by
It
was late May, three months since I’d met
Max. We had averaged seeing each other two or three nights
during
the
week and had pretty much spent all our weekends together since the
night we’d
met at the supermarket. To deny that it was a relationship
would
be the understatement
of the decade, but it was by far the most unusual relationship
I’d had since I
was 19-years-old. My phone rang at four-fifteen, and it was
Max; I
smiled
when I saw his cell number on the Caller ID screen.
“Cassandra,
I was detained an additional night and
am on my way in only now.” He stopped speaking for
a
moment, and I heard
a rustling sound, as if he were tucking the phone between his shoulder
and ear
while doing something else …probably looking at his
watch.
“My flight will be arriving in
“That’s
fine, Max, and take your time in the
traffic. I’d hate to see any dings on that Bentley
…or on you.” He
chuckled before answering.
“As
would I. Good, then I shall see you as
close to six as I can safely manage. Have you selected a
film?”
We’d actually seen several films over the past
months and
seemed in sync
on what we did or did not like in terms of
“I
have, but I’m not going to tell you which
one.” There was a pause before he answered.
“Please
tell that it is not a special screening of Gladiator.”
At that, I laughed aloud.
“No,
I promise …I would never do that to you.”
“May
the gods be thanked. Cara,
I must
go. The flight attendants are making their way through the
cabin
with
their request to turn off all electronic devices. I will see
you
at six.”
“I’ll
be here, Max. Drive carefully.”
We disconnected, and I headed for the shower, stopping to lay out what I
was
wearing that night on the bed – black jeans and a coral
long-sleeved, cowl-necked
cotton sweater – before heading to the bathroom.
Twenty
minutes later I
was drying my hair and trying to beat it into submission.
It’s long and
thick and has always had a mind of its own, irrespective of what I
might want
it to do. As I wrestled with it, I gave serious consideration
to
cutting
it back to the earlobe-length, layered style I had worn until three
years
ago. I’m much more likely to make a major change
such as
that when I’m
not involved with a man and have no need to consider his opinion or
preferences. At this point, I considered myself "involved"
with
Max.
I also knew that because we hadn’t made any sort of
formalized
commitment to
each other, that “involved” bit could change - in
either
direction - and if I
decided to cut my below-the-shoulder length hair, I’d be well
advised to do it
now before he got around to voicing any strong opinion about wanting it
to
remain long. I tabled the notion for the present but knew
that
if I did
cut my hair, I’d likely do it within the next few
days.
I’m one of those
individuals who, once giving serious consideration to a change of that
nature,
usually act on it quickly.
I was
ready by five-thirty and reading when I
heard the rumble of Max’s Bentley as he pulled into the
drive. I walked to the
door, opening it just as he raised his hand to press the
bell. He
looked
a bit surprised, and I smiled.
“I
heard you coming …while it isn’t in any way
obnoxious, that engine is anything but stealthy.”
He
smiled, nodding as I
stepped aside to allow him in the door.
“No,
I suppose it is not; I have grown accustomed
to it and am no longer consciously aware of it.” He
shrugged off his suit
coat, depositing it and his keys on the stand beside the door and took
me into
his arms, kissing me soundly. When I opened my eyes and
looked up
into
his, they were soft and his face tender.
“I have
missed you.”
“And
I have missed you.” We walked through to
the lounge, and I handed him the drink I’d poured for him on
my
detour through
the kitchen when I heard his car turn into the lane. He
smiled as
he took
it and sat heavily on the couch. There were fatigue lines
etched
around
his eyes and mouth, and he sighed after taking a deep swallow from his
glass;
his eyes were sad, full of pain.
“Rough
trip?” He shrugged slightly before
answering.
“No
more so than usual in such a situation. I
will never accustom myself to such a sad business.”
Max’s trip had been
that of accompanying the remains of a late client home to his wife and
family. The man had been abducted over the past weekend and
murdered
within hours of TEO’s having received the call from his
frantic
wife.
There had been no demand for ransom, only a voice-mail message left on
the
firm’s service late Sunday evening, telling them where to
find
his body.
As Max had been the partner who had worked with the family in setting
up their
protection plan, he retrieved the remains and took them home.
I
was
silent; there was nothing to say. He finally shook his head
before
speaking again.
“This
was a pointless death. If he had followed
instructions, he would not have been taken. Why is it that
men
cannot
understand the necessity of a constantly changing schedule to avoid
establishment of a known pattern of behaviour that contributes to their
abduction?” I shook my head; I could no more
understand
that behaviour
than could Max because it seemed so obvious. However, at the
moment
there were more important issues to address because the man sitting in
front of
me was clearly exhausted. I didn’t think he needed
to be
taking off for a
movie within the hour and suggested we stay in for the evening.
“Max,
let’s stay in tonight and have a quiet dinner
here. We can see the film later.” He
shook his head.
“No,
you spend too much of your time cooking and
caring for me as it is. At the very least I wish to take you
to
dinner.” I sighed as I stood and walked to the
little stand
where he had
dropped his coat and keys as he entered the house. Picking up
the
keys, I
turned to him and jingled them where he could see them.
“Do
I have to hijack your keys again to keep you
here?” He turned and smiled at me, quirking his
eyebrow in
that manner
I’ve come to love.
“I
do not think that will serve you well …I am no
longer a stranger to your bedroom.” That was true
enough,
though not in
the sense you might think. Max frequently spent the night
and,
irrespective of his concern for my so-called reputation as an unmarried
woman,
had begun doing so within a month of our meeting. I say it
was an
unusual
arrangement because all we had done was sleep in the same bed on
occasion. Even now, he slept in my guest room more often than
not.
Yes, there had been a few passionate interludes, but as yet, we had not
physically consummated our union.
I
felt as if I were in the throes of an adolescent
love affair, wanting consummation but "not yet," to use his
phrase. For the first time in my adult life, I was content to
wait until
I was totally sure of myself and of Max. This relationship
had
all the
hallmarks of something that could be permanent, and neither of us seemed
in a
mood to rush it; we were adults and both quite good at delay of
gratification. Max’s only comment regarding our
lack of a
complete sexual
union had been one night about three weeks earlier when we had come
precariously close to crossing that invisible barrier. He had
stopped
literally at the last moment, rolling onto his back and looking at the
ceiling.
“Damn
it, Max!” I was frustrated to the point
of screaming. He had turned onto his side and looked into my
eyes
before
speaking.
“Cara
…complete physical union is a
significant step in a relationship, one we should not undertake without
all due
consideration. I care too much for you to take that final
step
until you
are sure that a long-term commitment to our relationship is truly what
you
want.” I started to speak, and he stopped me by
placing a
finger gently on
my lips. “You are not a passing fancy for me, and I
am
quite sure of my
feelings for you. I am not good with words of love; they do
not
fall
easily from my lips, but do know that I love you more deeply than I can
say. I cannot imagine my life without you in it from this
point
forward,
but I sense that while you love me in return, you are less sure about
our
future than I. Until you reach that point - if you do
– I
will not take
that gift from you.” I rolled onto my back and
sighed.
“Max,
I’m not a virgin. I’ve been married and
divorced. I’ve had lovers, and you know
that. There
is no “pearl
beyond price” that you can take from me.”
He leaned
up and braced his
head on his hand, looking down at me.
“That
is your opinion, Cara.
I do not
agree. In my time, an honourable
man did not lie with a
woman for
whom he cared deeply and respected,
unless he was completely
committed
to her and her to him. You know my feelings on this
subject.” Yes,
I did, and it was driving both of us not so slowly around the
twist.
While he had been away this last week, I’d done a great deal
of
soul-searching
about what I felt for Max. I had put myself in the position
of
the woman
whose husband had been murdered and realized that losing Max would
destroy
me. In three short months, I had become more emotionally and
psychologically dependent on him than I thought possible and had
finally
acknowledged that reality to myself. God help me. I
was in
love
with him. I forced my mind back to the present as I stood
there
with his
keys in my hand, then dropped them down the front of my sweater.
“If
you want them, come and get them.” He
stood, a frown furrowing his brow.
“Cassandra,
….”
“Max,
either put up or shut up. Your
choice. I’m staying here tonight. I think
it would be
really nice
if you opted to stay with me because we need to talk. Of
course,
if you
really want to go out to dinner, go ahead and enjoy
yourself.” I walked
to the kitchen and pulled a couple of steaks out of the freezer,
tossing them
into the sink to run cool water over them for quick thawing.
I
also
pulled the keys from the neck of my sweater and returned them to the
tea cart beside the door - their usual resting place - where
Max could find them. A moment later he sat his glass on the
counter
beside me, and I felt his arms snake around my waist as he leaned into
me, his
head resting against mine.
“I
concede. I am too weary to argue with you
and hope whatever you wish to discuss will not require the attention I
must
accord Nash when he wishes to speak with me. I fear I cannot
follow a
discussion on some abstract mathematical theory this
night.” I smiled to
myself and turned in his arms.
“What
I have in mind won’t require that level of
concentration, but I do think it will interest
you.” His
head tilted to
one side as he looked at me.
“Will
you tell me now, or must I wait?”
“Let’s
get another drink, and then we’ll sit and
talk.” He sighed as I refreshed our drinks and
followed me
back into the
lounge, sitting on the couch and pulling me down beside him.
“What
do you wish to discuss?” I took a deep
breath.
“Do
you recall that conversation we had a few weeks
back …the pearl-beyond-price one?” He
had been
lounging against the back
of the couch with his arm draped casually around my shoulders, fingers
playing
with my hair, but at that he jerked himself into an upright sitting
position
and turned to face me so quickly that he almost gave me whiplash as his
arm
came off my shoulders.
“I
do.” Well. I certainly had his
undivided attention now, didn’t I?
“While
you’ve been gone, I’ve done a lot of
thinking …about you, about myself …most of all,
about
us.” Those blue
eyes bored into mine.
“And
have you come to any conclusions?”
“Yes,
Max, I have.”
“And
what are they?” I took a deep breath,
looked down at my hands, then back up and into his eyes.
“I’m
in love with you, Max. I think that
happened within weeks of meeting you, but the notion of it scared the Hell out
of me. It still does and that’s a good thing
because
loving someone the
way I love you is
a long-term commitment. So yes,
I’m frightened,
but I can’t ignore what I feel for you any
longer.” I
took another breath
and soldiered on. “What you said that night
…about
not being able to
imagine your life without me in it …I feel the same way
about
you. If you
were to walk away from me and not look back, I truly don’t
know
what I would
do because for the first time in my life, I would be
lost.”
My
last few words were whispered because that was
all the volume I could manage around the tears that were suddenly
choking my
throat. I could feel them streaking down my face; they made
me
feel even
more vulnerable than I had moments earlier. I
couldn’t look
at him,
afraid that I would see an "I’ve-got-her-where-I-want-her"
look
on
his face, knowing at the same time that such a feeling wasn’t
possible for this
man. He was the most honest and forthright man I’d
ever
known. My
mind flitted back to his film and the way he had said
“Strength
and Honour”
before going into battle. That’s what Max was
about,
strength, honor,
personal integrity, and now, a deep and abiding love. He had
declared
himself that night weeks earlier; I had been the holdout.
“Cassandra,
cara
….” His arms went
around me and pulled me close as he nestled my head into his
shoulder. “I
have waited to hear you say the words, though I have seen them in your
eyes and
your behaviour for some time.” He raised my head so
that he
could see my
face and looked into my eyes; I noted that his were moist.
“Cara,
I am but a man and fraught with my own insecurities. I had to
hear you
say the words …I pushed you to say them. I beg
your
forgiveness for that, as I know
it was so very difficult for you to declare yourself to a man with a
past such
as mine. But know this if nothing else, Cassandra.
I love
you. That will not change, and your heart is safe with
me.” I
closed my eyes as his head dipped toward mine, and our lips met.
*
Max
had arrived a few minutes after six, and it
wasn’t until after eleven that I realized I’d not
followed
through on my
statement of feeding him this night. We’d been
talking
non-stop once I
had gotten past the hurdle of telling him that I was in love with
him. He
had told me the same in his unaffected way more times that I can recall,
and
now, it seemed that a quiet, peaceful calm had settled on us.
Even in
that short span of time, I could see the changes that mutual
acknowledgment
effected in both of us. As I rose from the couch to go do
something for
dinner (it was far too late for anything as heavy as steak, and they
would go
back into the ‘fridge), his fingers let go of mine
reluctantly,
the tips
trailing down my own until I moved away.
Max
stood and followed me into the kitchen, his
eyes never leaving me as I moved about making
breakfast-for-dinner. He
leaned against the counter, watching me after I had moved him out of my
way for
the third time. I had told him to stay put, but each time I
came
within
arm’s reach, his hand touched some part of me …my
arm,
fingers stroking down my
cheek, his hand resting lightly on my hip as I stopped in front of him
to ask a
question. I was doing the same, reaching out to pat him as I
worked,
unable to touch him enough, to somehow reassure myself that this
wasn’t a dream
from which I would awaken, alone again in my bed.
Halfway
through the bacon and eggs, I put down my
fork, unable to eat another bite. This was the “now
or
never”
night. I stood and carried my plate to the kitchen and raked
the
remains
down the disposal. Moments later, Max was beside me, raking
the
scraps
from his plate into the sink after my own. I finished rinsing
the
plates
and cutlery, placed them in the dishwasher, and turned to look at
Max.
His eyes were soft and glowing; the most gentle smile I’d
ever
seen in my life
was on his face. He took my face in his large hands and
kissed me
softly. His voice was barely a breath on my face.
“Cara,
will you do me the honour of
coming to
bed with me?” Oh, yes, I would, but for the first
time in
almost 20
years, I felt like a blushing and uncertain virgin. Max had
that
intense
an effect on me. He had the ability to make me feel that I
was
about to
experience that ultimate act of giving between a man and woman for the
first
time and, suddenly, I was shaking. My voice was
gone. It
was all I
could do to smile and nod at him, and I felt the flush move up my body,
over my
neck and onto my face as I ducked my head. He raised my head
and
looked
at me. “You have nothing to fear, Cara.
I will never hurt
you.” I’ve had men say that to me before,
but I knew
beyond any doubt that
Max meant it with every fibre of his being. My love and my
heart were
safe with him; he would never hurt me in any way, and I knew that as
surely as
I knew I would take my next breath.
Max
took my hand and led me down the hallway to the
bedroom and turned on the lamp, never letting go of my hand.
He
turned to
look at me as he sat on the side of the bed.
“You
are afraid.” I shook my head.
“No,
not afraid …not uncertain, just …I’m
not sure
what …overwhelmed perhaps. I only know that I love
you,
Max.”
“And
I love you.” He stood and turned back
the bed linens before beginning to unbutton his shirt. Silly
as
it
sounds, I was vaguely embarrassed. We had never seen each
other
totally
nude. When he slept over and did so in my bed, he always
slept in
his
jockeys while I’d always worn one of my oversized
T-shirts.
Even when
we’d gotten hot and heavy and tossed away those barriers, the
lights had always
been off. Like any other woman, I was suddenly assailed with
doubts about
my body. Would he like my breasts? Was my butt too
large? I
have very long legs …would they remind him of a colt?
My
ex had made that
comment on more than one occasion. At times I think Max can
read
my mind
because his next words were an answer to those questions.
“Have
no concern of your body or whether it will
please me, Cassandra, because I assure you, it will. It is I
who
should
warn you …I am a soldier and have many scars, none of them
pretty.” I
shook my head.
“They
won’t bother me.” My fingers had
memorized each of them over these past months, and I’d seen
far
worse in the
process of investigations I'd participated in while at
“If
you wish, I will turn off the lamp while you
disrobe.” That galvanized me into action.
I began
removing my
clothes, watching him all the while. He removed his shoes and
socks, and
after folding his slacks and placing them on the chair beside the bay
window,
he turned back to me. I’d just gotten my wish of
that first
morning …the
prurient one about purely loving to see “that”
angry, and
now I was looking at
it angry, so to speak. Well, what I could see with
his
briefs still
on anyway, and I gulped. My eyes flicked down to his feet,
then
to his
hands, and back to the bulge straining against the front of his
briefs.
The man was huge, and it suddenly struck me that he wouldn’t
be
circumcised unless
he’d had it done since arriving in this life; I
couldn’t
imagine a grown man
voluntarily putting himself through that agony. As
I’d
never had sex with
an uncircumcised man, that alone was going to make this a unique
experience.
Maximus
turned away from me and slid his briefs
down his hips, letting them fall to the floor before sitting on the
bed.
He raised the sheet and slipped beneath it with his back to me, turning
around
only when he had pulled the sheet up to his waist, as he lay propped
against
the headboard with his eyes closed. I knew his behavior was
an
effort to
keep me from being embarrassed, and I loved him for it. I
finished undressing
and slid into the bed beside him, thinking this was what a virgin bride
must
feel like.
I
hadn’t been a virgin when I married. I’d
lost my virginity in the backseat of a car like so many of my
generation, and
as I had been drunk that night, I honestly couldn’t recall
whether I’d been
afraid or not. All I can clearly recall about that night was
overwhelming
curiosity. I pulled the sheet up to my breasts, wishing it
were
one of
those “L-shaped” ones that you see in commercials
and films
that have a man and
woman in bed together – you know the ones in which the sheet
covers the woman’s
breasts, then drops so neatly to cover the man only below the waist -
and
laughed inwardly at my silliness. I leaned against the
headboard
and took
a deep breath as I looked at Maximus. He opened his eyes,
reaching for my
hand as he did. Suddenly feeling even more shy than a few
minutes
earlier, a question popped into my mind.
“Maximus?
Why do you call me Cassandra?
I’m not jealous of her, but I am
curious.” He brought
my hand to his lips
and kissed it before putting his arm around me and pulling me over to
his side.
“Cassandra
was a woman I knew long ago, during the
time I fought in the arena. She brought me fresh food and
clean
clothing,
oil to cleanse myself, compassion …and love when I thought I
could love no
more.”
“So
there was someone in those last months?”
“Yes.
I call you Cassandra because you are so
much like her, even to your appearance. But if it offends
you, I
will not
do so again. I should have realised that women are sensitive
about such
things.” I smiled before I spoke.
“I
have no problem with your calling me
Cassandra. I consider your doing so a tribute to her and to
me. I
can’t find anything offensive in that.”
He looked at
me for a long moment
and shook his head slightly before speaking again.
“As
much as you are like Cassandra, you are
different in many ways as well. You are a woman of this time,
yet
you
have traces of my time within you …in the ways you think,
the
ways in which you
care for me, the things that are important to you. You look
at me
as no
one has since I left that other time, as if I was the most important
thing in
your life. You cannot know what that means to a man like me,
to
feel that
he has the absolute faith, trust, and love of his
woman.” He
sighed before
continuing.
“I
have met many women in the last five years, Cara,
some of them good women, some of them not so
pristine.” He
smiled
ruefully. “I am a man, and while I admit to taking
my
comfort where I
found it, I often felt soiled by the experience. I am a man
of my
own
time – my values and judgments are ancient - and that is not
likely to
change. While I consider it permissible for a man to
occasionally
take
his pleasure with women not his wife – though I promise you,
I
will not do so
now that we are committed to each other, nor will I do so if we should
marry -
a committed relationship with a woman I love and respect, and the
concept of
family, is of the utmost importance to me. I value that
commitment more
than you can know.” He looked at me with the most
seriousness I had seen
from him thus far. “I knew that I would never find
what I
sought with
those other women, but I also knew the moment I met you that I could
find it
with you …if you would allow me into your life.
You are a
good and
honourable woman, Cara,
one who knows what it means to be
a
woman, and who nourishes that part of herself. You are an
anomaly, and
that is what drew me to you. The ways in which you are
different
from
other women of this time, and our love will keep me at your
side.”
I
knew that if I could not accept Maximus as the
man he was, we had no future because he would not change. Oh,
he
would
adjust as required to accommodate me in lifestyle issues, but he could
no more
change the man he had been and still was than he could have taken
Commodus’
hand that night, simply because we cannot change the men or women that
we
are. Our core personality characteristics are
immutable. I
understood that, and I accepted it; I did not want him to change who
and what
he was, because those characteristics comprised the man I had grown to
love. That was Maximus. I suddenly realized that I
no
longer
thought of him as "Max," but as "Maximus." When had
that happened? While I would continue to call him Max in
public,
knowing
him as I did now and feeling as I did for him, I could not imagine ever
calling
him Max again when we were alone. I raised my hand to his jaw
and
followed it with my lips, hearing the slow intake of his breath as I
did.
He laid me back on the bed, and his hands held my face as his eyes
burned into
mine.
“I
tell you again, Cara,
I will never hurt
you. You will have no cause to doubt my love. You
are what
I have
searched for across time and space and thought never to find
again. Cara,
if you
take my love in this night, you must understand that I will
never let you go. I will keep you by my side throughout
eternity.”
My answer was to kiss him as my hand moved down his body to stroke him,
closing
my eyes as he kissed me.
*
He
had moved me from my position where I had been
sitting against him, laying me back on the bed and leaning on his arm
as he looked
down at me. One hand touched my face, fingers tracing down my
cheek to my
neck. He leaned down to kiss me, his hand resting lightly on
my
throat
before moving to my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked
into
his.
They were no longer the bluish-green I was accustomed to seeing but
seemed to
be changing to a darker, almost emerald shade. His hands
moved
the sheet
away from my body, down to my waist, and he looked at me, his eyes
resting on my
breasts before returning to my face.
“You
are beautiful, as I knew you would be.”
I cupped his face in my hands, pulling him down to meet me and kissed
him. His lips moved from mine to my neck, to that little
hollow
at my
collarbone, and kissed me there before moving on. I felt
their
heat as
they trailed hot, moist kisses down to my breasts, first the left one,
taking
my nipple in his mouth and sucking gently until I moaned, then moving
to the other.
While his lips were on my breast, his hand moved the sheet away and
ventured
further down my body, stroking my abdomen, his fingers touching my
curls in his
exploration. I tried to touch him in return, but the lower
part of
his
body was just out of my reach, and I grumped a little. He
laughed
softly
at my inability to reach him, taking my hand, and moving it back to his
chest. “There is no hurry …let me love
you a
while.” I was rapidly
realizing that he was more experienced a lover than I had imagined and
relaxed,
willing at last to let him lead me where he would.
“Do
you wish me to extinguish the lamp?” I
shook my head; I wanted to be able to see him as he saw me.
“Good
….” His mouth returned to my body, his
kisses moving
inexorably lower,
kissing my hip bones before resting his head on my belly, his face just
above
my hairline. His hand stroked my pubis softly before moving
further. I felt his fingers move into my hair, then lower,
strong
but
gentle as they parted my folds. His touch was so light,
amazing
for hands
so strong, fingers moving through my sudden moisture, gathering it, and
then I
felt his thumb on my bud, massaging in a slow, lazy, circular
motion. I could feel the warmth gathering in my belly and
beginning to
radiate out through my body. My hips rose toward him, and his
head
returned to mine to kiss me again, never stopping his motion
below. As
his tongue sought mine, I felt one finger enter me gently, slowly,
mimicking
the motion I would feel later when he entered me fully.
He
continued stroking softly, in and out in a
steady rhythm matching the rhythm of his thumb, his long finger
advancing until
I felt him stroke that most sensitive spot deep within me. I
caught my
breath as he massaged it, feeling my excitement build as he stroked
more
firmly, more rapidly until I felt the release shoot through me like a
hot wave
that left me clenched down tightly on his hand as I gasped for
air.
Maximus was still for long moments and then slowly withdrew his
hand. I
watched as he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them as his now
glittering eyes watched me. I had always known he was a
highly
sexual
man; I had never anticipated his eroticism and sensuality would equal
his
sexuality.
His
body was lying against mine and I could feel
his erection against my thigh, so hard that when he leaned in to
kiss me,
it was painful against my leg. Surely now …but
no.
His lips
returned to my body, and he moved down and parted my legs more,
positioning
himself between them, and moving further down still. He
leaned in
to me
and kissed my mons, his hands stroking down the outside of my legs
before
moving inward to caress my inner thighs. His face turned
upward
to
mine before he spoke.
“I
would see you, Cara,
and taste your
sweetness.” I couldn’t answer
him. I was too
far gone in my own
need for him, and yet I wanted to watch him, to see the look on his
face, to try
to read his thoughts and emotions. He lay between my legs,
his
head only
inches from my sex, looking up at me as his hands moved over my
body. His
fingers stroked my outer lips, and his mouth bent there to softly kiss
me.
“You are so full and red, quivering with desire; your body
asks
for my
touch.” His fingers stroked and probed more deeply,
opening
me fully to
his gaze. He smiled before looking up at me again.
“Your moisture
trickles from you ….” His mouth moved
down again, and
I felt his tongue
lick me softly, stopping to suck gently before licking me
again.
I
whimpered and shifted, trying to move closer to his searching
tongue. I
heard his voice as if from a distance.
“This
feels good? It brings you
pleasure?” I’d never had a man ask if I
liked what he
was doing, and I
gasped in answer.
“Yes
…oh, God, Maximus, don’t
stop!” I could
feel his chuckle as his mouth moved again to my clitoris, settling
there, and
beginning to suck softly. His lips and tongue were practiced;
I’d never
known a man so skilled, certainly never known one so intent on giving
me
pleasure as he was this night. I felt my orgasm building, and
suddenly I
was there. My legs clamped around his head as I spasmed
beneath
him, body
writhing and pulsing as I soared into my coming, the shocks of it
moving
through me like lightening bolts in the summer sky. When at
last
I lay
calm and still, he rested his head just above my pubis and sighed, then
turned
to look into my face.
“I
have never known a woman more responsive …do you
know what that does to a man?” I shook my head
because I
didn’t; there
was no way I could. He moved slowly back up my body and lay
beside me.
“Let me show you.” He took my hand and
brought it
down to his penis,
finally allowing me to grasp him fully. My fingers barely met
around his
girth, and I moved up and leaned on my side to look at him. He
was
large,
larger I think than any man I’d ever known. The
head was
partly covered
by his foreskin, and his hand wrapped around mine, moving it slowly up
and
down. I watched as the motion pulled his foreskin back, fully
exposing
the dark, purplish head weeping with fluid. I looked into his
eyes before
I spoke.
“Let
me ….” He lay back and spread his legs
as I moved over him. My hair brushed over his belly as I took
him
in my
mouth, hearing the sharp hiss of his pleasure, followed by a groan that
resonated through his body. His hands moved into my hair,
guiding
me
gently, never forcing me, as I suckled him. He grew even
harder
and
larger, and finally he pulled my head away.
“I
do not want to find my fulfillment in your mouth
…I want to bury myself in your heat.” I
rolled onto
my back again as he
moved over me and between my legs. He swept his penis through
my
wetness
before moving to my opening, pulling my legs high onto his hips as he
began to
enter me. He seemed to remember that I had told him
I’d not
had sex in
almost a year and moved into me slowly, giving me time to adjust to
his
size. When I thought I had taken him all, he suddenly moved
again,
and I
felt his tip kiss my cervix as he fully seated himself. I had
never
experienced such fullness. He paused for a moment and then
began
to move,
slowly at first, allowing me to find his rhythm. My
arms
pulled him
closer, needing to feel his body next to mine as well as so deeply
inside of
me. I realized that he was attempting to pace himself, to
insure
that I
reached my climax before he did, as if determined to withhold his own
satisfaction in order to take me with him so that we might experience
that
final moment together. I whimpered in my need of him, and my
breath was
ragged when I spoke.
“Maximus,
don’t hold back. You don't need to
wait …please, don’t wait!” He
took me at my
word and gave in to his own
need, his strokes becoming deeper, harder, faster, striving now for his
own
release. I came again just as I felt his body tighten and
begin
to
tremble, and I heard the catch in his breathing, felt his shudder of
release,
and his cry as his head sank to my breast and he relaxed on top of
me. He
shivered then, his climax complete, and for the first time, I felt his
full
weight as I wrapped my arms even more tightly around him, pulling him
as close
as I could, feeling the tears in my eyes …and his tears on
my
breast. He
lay there only moments before rolling onto his back and pulling me with
him and
into his side, my head resting on his shoulder, his arms holding me
close.
*
I’m
not entirely sure what I expected the first
time we made love, but what I got wasn’t it, whatever
“it” may have been.
The expectations I did have were so far off base as to not even be in
the
ballpark. I had expected him to be dominant because, after
all, he
was a
general and used to being in the saddle. I know, poor choice
of
words on
my part, but it is what it is. I had expected him not to be
much
concerned with my pleasure but to be totally in pursuit of his
own. What
I had not expected was for him to be so gentle and tender. I
had
not
expected him to be so intent on my fulfillment to the point of
withholding his
own until he knew I had achieved mine. I had not expected him
to
weep,
even though I had. It had never occurred to me that a man
could
care as
much as Maximus did. As I lay in his arms afterward and
reflected
on his
concern for me after having known me only a few short months, I could
not
imagine the regard he must have shown his wife and Cassandra, both of
whom I
knew he had loved and respected greatly. The tenderness that
swept
through me brought fresh tears to my eyes; before I could wipe them
away, he
felt the moisture on his shoulder where my head rested. He
raised
his
head and looked at me.
“Cara,
have I caused you pain?” He
pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard, bringing me with
him.
I smiled before answering. When I had looked at him during
our
foreplay
and again before he entered me, I’d been a bit worried
because
muscles that are
not used on a frequent basis do tighten up, and the man was - quite
simply - huge. Fortunately, because of his
patience, I’d had no pain at all. What
I’d had was
the most incredible
sexual experience of my life. I almost drifted away on my
little
renewed tide of
euphoria, but the look of concern on his face brought me back to
reality; he
deserved a reply. I leaned up a bit and kissed him.
“No,
Maximus, you didn’t hurt me. I’m just
surprised at how considerate you are, how patient and controlled, and
that was
unexpected …your tenderness is making me a little weepy
because
I didn’t
anticipate it.” He hugged me closer, if that was
possible.
“I
promised that I would not hurt you, and I never
will, nor will I ever take you against your
wishes.” He
looked at me
again, and I could see the tears forming in his eyes.
“Aside from a
child, the greatest gift a woman can give the man she loves is her
body, freely
offered, without reserve. That is a gift to be treasured in
the
receiving
as she is to be honoured for the giving.” He kissed
me and
snuggled me
back into his chest, and I lay there in absolute contentment
…for about five
seconds, and then part of what he’d said hit me between the
eyes
like a
sledgehammer. He’d said “a
child.” A
child …oh dear God. I’d
not been on any form of birth control since I’d broken off
the
affair with
Scott, and we’d not used a condom.
My
heart began to pound like a trip hammer. I
looked over at the calendar on my bedroom wall. Today was the
28th;
my last period had started on the 13th.
Holy Mother of
Christ,
I was right in the middle of my fertile period. I could feel
the
tightening
in my chest as I pulled away from him, not even bothering to move
slowly.
I was out of the bed so fast that I got one foot caught in the sheets
and
tripped. From the corner of my eye, I saw the surprise on
Maximus’ face
as I bolted from the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind
me and
locking it. I stood looking at myself in the mirror on the
wall
above the
twin lavatories, one hand pressed to my belly and my entire body
shaking like a
leaf. I heard his soft knock on the door followed by his
voice.
“Cara,
what is it? Are you ill?”
I tried to answer him, but nothing came out of my mouth. He
called
to me
again, his voice becoming more urgent.
“Cassandra!
What is
it?” I still couldn’t make a sound, even
when he
rattled the doorknob.
“Open this door …what is
wrong?” I
couldn’t very well leave him standing
out there wondering what the hell was wrong with me because I already
knew him
well enough to realize that if I didn’t say something or open
the
door within
the next couple of seconds, he would probably break it down.
I
looked at
my face in the mirror; it was as white as a sheet as I turned
and
walked
across the room and unlocked the door, opening it for him.
“Are
you …,” and he stopped in mid-sentence when he
got a good look at me. “Cara,
what is it? What
troubles you
so?” I pulled my bathrobe off the hook on the door
and
shrugged into it,
belting it tightly around my waist before I looked back at Maximus,
somehow
finding my voice along the way.
“I
need a drink …and so will you in another
minute.” I walked toward the kitchen and the scotch
bottle
as he grabbed
his own robe and followed me. By the time I had pulled
glasses
from the
cabinet, Maximus was standing beside me, and when I tried to put ice
into them,
my hands were shaking so hard that I scattered ice cubes all over the
floor. He finished the job and put the glasses on the
counter,
reached
for the bottle of scotch and splashed it into both glasses, handed me
one,
picked up the other and guided me into the lounge and onto the
couch. He
squatted in front of me and took my hands in his as he looked up at me.
“I
ask again, what is it? What distresses you
so?” How was I going to tell him that I had been so
stupid
as to not even
think about birth control? How could I tell him that I could
very
well be
pregnant? I was a grown woman, a responsible woman with a
career
and
obligations. How could I have been so careless? I
knew
Maximus was
fertile because he and his late wife had a son. Hell, given
the
obvious
virility of the man coupled with his charm, I felt sure that
he’d
had no
difficulty in convincing the women of the conquered to warm his bed and
had
probably left dark-haired babies with blue-green eyes all over the
Germanian
front. I heard his voice and forced my attention back to him.
“Cassandra
…Reagan
…look at me! What is wrong? What is the
matter?” I took a
shuddering breath, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them.
“Maximus,
I’m not on any form of birth control and
haven’t been for a long time because I haven’t
needed
it. We didn’t use a
condom. I didn’t even think
about contraception
until five minutes
ago. I counted back, and I’m smack in the middle of
my
fertile
period. I could be pregnant right now.” I
wouldn’t have blamed him
if he’d walked back to the bedroom, dressed, and left without
another
word. His reaction was the last thing I would ever have
anticipated. He smiled at me.
“And
if you are, what is the harm in that? We
are in love and committed to each other. People in love make
babies and
marry, though not necessarily in that order. I do not
perceive
your
pregnancy – if you should fall pregnant – to be a
problem. Perhaps we
were careless, but the result – if indeed you have conceived
-
would be a
blessing. I can think of nothing that would make me happier
than
to have
you as my wife and to raise our child together.”
Married? Us?
Whoa there, General! I had one failed marriage behind me, and
while I was
in love with Maximus, I wasn’t exactly lining up at the
starting
gate to do that
again. My idea was that as time passed, he might move in with
me
and see
if we could stand living with each other on a full-time
basis.
Any
possibility of marriage was in the distant future.
That
was the first time I realized just how
traditional – and how much of a romantic – Maximus
and men
of his time truly
were. It was definitely the first time I realized that he
might
actually
entertain the notion of marriage. There had to be a tactful
way
to say
this, a way to tell him that even if I was pregnant there
wasn’t
a chance in
hell that I was marrying him any time in the foreseeable
future.
Maybe
someday I would consider it if he didn’t get tired of waiting
and
take off
first, but not right now. Irrespective of a possible
pregnancy
and Maximus’
morés, there was no trip to the Chapel of Love in our
foreseeable future. My voice trembled when I spoke.
“Look,
I’m probably just spooked …and I’m
probably
not pregnant. We won’t know for at least a couple
of weeks
if it’s a
realistic possibility, and we couldn’t be absolutely sure for
a
couple of weeks
after that. And even if I am, we don’t have to rush
into
anything.”
The frown that replaced his smile should have been sufficient to let me
know
that I’d just stepped in it, and he wasn’t enjoying
the
smell one bit;
unfortunately, that look didn’t register. He stood
and
looked down at me.
“If
you have fallen pregnant, we will be
married.” Not so fast there, Max. I sure
as hell
wasn’t marrying
any man, not even this one with his proclamations of love who asked me
to marry
him – no, told
me - immediately after learning that I
might be pregnant,
even though the child would be indisputably his.
“Uh,
Maximus? We won’t. Not anytime
soon anyway.”
“What
do you mean?” His jaw had tightened as
he spoke. This was not going well, and the analogy of a train
wreck
flashed through my mind.
“I
mean that while I love you, I’m just not ready
for marriage again, pregnant or not pregnant. Maybe a bit
further
down
the road, after we know each other better. Maybe in a year or
so,
maybe
after we’ve lived together for a while …Maximus,
we
don’t even know if we can
stand living in the same house with each other on a daily basis, and
until we
know that, we can’t think about getting
married!” I
was quickly losing my
cool; he was quickly losing his temper.
“Are
you saying that even should you be carrying my
child you would not wish to marry me?” Oh,
crap. This
was going to Hell in a fucking hand basket. I buried my face in my
hands. So
much for Maximus’ thinking that I had traits from his time.
“Maximus,
you’re putting words in my mouth. I
did not say that I would never consider marrying you. I said
that
if we
should be pregnant, it doesn’t mean that we have to get
married
right now.“
His frown got worse, if that was possible. His jaw was set
and I
was now
looking at an emotionless, immovable mask much like the one on his face
when
Commodus offered his hand.
“I
see.” His voice had gone so cold and
distant that I could scarcely believe he was the same man who had loved
me so
gently and held me so tenderly in his arms ten minutes
earlier.
He turned
his back to me and walked back to the bedroom, emerging fully dressed
less than
three minutes later; I stood to meet him. He walked to the
door
and
picked up his coat and keys from the table, then turned back to
me. His face was as
set as if it had been carved in granite.
“I
think it best I return to my loft. In the
event that you have fallen pregnant, I would appreciate the courtesy of
a call
advising me of that fact before you decide to terminate the
pregnancy. It
would be my wish to support you until the birth of the child, at which
time I
will take the babe and raise it myself.” He opened
the door
quietly and
walked out, closing it softly. I stood transfixed, tears
running
down my
face as I heard the Bentley’s engine turn over and then fade
away
down the
lane. I walked back to my empty bedroom, took off my robe,
pulled
on a
nightshirt and got into bed, pulling his pillow into my body and
hugging
it. I cried myself to sleep.
*
A
week passed; he didn’t call. I thought of
calling him but didn’t. What could I possibly have
said
that would make
him understand my feelings? In Maximus’ mind, love,
marriage, and
children were a package deal. By telling him that I
didn’t
want to get
married at this point in time, irrespective of a possible pregnancy, I
had
thrown his declaration of love back in his face. He had
clearly
interpreted my behavior as a rejection of his love and commitment and
walked
away.
Three
days after Maximus walked out,
“What’s
going on?”
“Max
is gone.”
“What
happened?” Of course I burst into
tears. Practical woman that she is, she got me a box of
tissues
and kept
passing them until I stopped blubbering. I hate those
terrible
hiccoughs
and the headache that follow a crying jag. She repeated her
question, and
I told her the whole, sorry tale. I was astonished she could
understand
me through the hiccoughs.
“Well,
that’s just peachy.”
“You
look like hammered shit. Have you eaten
since he left?” I looked at her.
“Eaten?
You mean food?”
“Well,
yeah, that’s the general idea, unless you
prefer grazing in my back paddock. Have
you?” I
hadn’t even thought
about food, and I might as well tell her because there was no way she
wasn’t
going to get an answer out of me.
“No.”
She went to the kitchen and a few
minutes later came back with two slices of toast on a plate.
“Eat.”
“I
can’t.”
“You
will, even if I have to hold your nose and
shove it down your throat.” This woman does not
take no for
an
answer. I ate. Of course, it came back up within
five
minutes, and
she just shook her head at me as I sat on the floor beside the toilet.
“I
didn't think morning sickness started so
quickly, but what do I know about it? Mares don't get morning
sickness. When will you know for sure?”
“Another
ten days or so. By then an
over-the-counter pregnancy test should pick it up if I am.”
“Do
you have one?”
“No.”
She dragged me to my feet.
“Get
dressed.” I was still in my
nightshirt. “We’re going to
Wal-Mart.”
“What
for?” She rolled her eyes at me.
“To
buy an EPT.” Oh. We made the trip
and were home within 45 minutes. Much as I love her, I was
really
hoping
that she would go home now and just leave me to wallow in my
misery. Fat
chance. She moved in until the twelfth day, and the test was
negative. Before she left, she made me promise to call
Maximus
and tell
him I wasn’t pregnant.
“Call
me if you want to talk after you talk to
Max. If you want to wallow after talking to him, I will give
you
two days
of mercy before I kick you in the ass.” There are
good
reasons that she’s
my best friend.
*
I
called Maximus’ office on the 16th
day
– the 13th
of June - after having repeated the test
just to be sure.
I hadn’t heard a word from him since the night he
walked
out of my house
and my life. Unfortunately, I didn’t check the time
of day
and managed
to call while their office staff was out for lunch. At least
Maximus
didn’t answer so I didn’t burst into tears, though
when I
heard the voice of
the man who did answer and realized how much it sounded like Maximus
with an
Australian accent, I almost started crying again. I was still
doing a lot
of that crying thing, and I’d eaten so little that
I’d
dropped almost 15
pounds.
“Terry
Thorne.” Okay, deep breaths
required.
“Is
Max Espan available?”
“Not
at the moment, though I expect him back at any
time. May I say who called and take a
message?” His
tone was warm
and compassionate, signaling willingness to help; it was the carefully
modulated voice of a well-trained and highly skilled negotiator.
“This
is Reagan Kavanagh. I’m a friend of
Max’s.” There was a pregnant pause before
he
answered. That pretty
much told me that he knew who I was if nothing else, and I so hoped all
he knew
was my name. His voice was anything but warm when he spoke
this
time, and
it now seemed very likely that he knew the “nothing
else”
as well.
“I
know who you are, Ms. Kavanagh. Is there a
message?” The voice was still professional and
polite but
now as cold as
ice.
“Please
tell him that I called. There’s no
need for him to return the call.”
“I’ll
be sure to tell him exactly that.
Anything else?” Nothing I was interested in
relaying
through Mr.
Ice-Water-in-His-Veins, Terry Thorne.
“No,
that’s all. Thank you.” I
disconnected before he could say another word and sat there shaking for
the
next ten minutes. Once I got my autonomic responses under
control
and
acknowledged that I had most likely seen the last of Maximus, I decided
that I
needed to get on with my life, and changes were in order. The
first call I
made was to my hairdresser.
An
hour-and-a-half later I walked out of her shop
with my hair literally 18 inches shorter and back in the windblown,
blow-dry
style I had worn until three years ago. It felt good, it
looked
good, and
when I had glanced at the floor when Lisa finished, there must have
been enough
hair there to make a wig for someone. Lisa commented on that,
and
I
looked at her.
“Are
you familiar with Locks of Love?”
Her smile told me all I needed to know even before she
nodded.
“Call
them; if they can’t pick it up today, get directions to their
offices, and I’ll
take it over right now.” Ten minutes later I had a
Ziploc
bag full of my
hair on the car seat beside me; half an hour after that I dropped it
off at Locks
of Love. For the first
time in almost three weeks, I actually
felt
good about something.
*
I had
promised
“Hello.”
“Hi.
It’s me.”
“You
talk to Max?”
“In
a manner of speaking.”
“What
did he say? Should I be buying stock in
Trojan?”
“I
didn't get a chance to talk to him. I had
to leave a message with a real person, his prick of a partner, Terry
Thorne. I wouldn’t waste my money on Trojan
yet.”
“What
kind of business is TEO? They don't
have voice mail? Or is this Thorne person such an idiot that
he
didn't
know how to put you through to Max’s mailbox? You
did ask
him to have Max
call, didn't you?”
“I
left a pretty clear message. As cold as
his voice was once I’d told him my name, I was doing good to
get
as much said
as I did.”
“Peachy.
If I ever meet either of them,
remind to give them both a good, hard kick in the nuts.”
*
I was
in bed when the doorbell rang, and the dogs
began raising holy Hell but it wasn’t their
“DANGER”
bark; it was the excited,
where-have-you-been one. I looked at the clock as I rolled
over
to turn
on the bedside lamp. It was almost midnight. Who in Hell
was at my
door at this time of the night and for what reason? Even with
the
pups'
excited-and-happy bark, it’s never a good thing when your
doorbell or phone
rings in the middle of the night. I pulled my Smith &
Wesson
.38 snub
from the beside table drawer and shrugged into my robe to head towards
the
door. Old habits die hard; I flipped on the porch light and
stood
to one
side as I peeked through the side-angled peephole. It was
Maximus,
looking more than a bit the worse for wear. He was coatless,
his
tie was
loose and his collar unbuttoned, shirtsleeves rolled up; his clothes
were
wrinkled. In fact, he looked like he’d consumed the
better
part of a
bottle of scotch. I hadn’t expected to ever hear
from him
again, much
less find him on my doorstep at midnight. I shoved the
revolver
into the
pocket of my robe and broke a nail unbolting the door. It
took
me a
minute to get the door open as I had to stop, shake my hand because of
the
pain, and curse like a longshoreman on a three-day spree.
Maximus
had been
looking at his feet when I opened the door, and he looked up at
me. Yep,
if he wasn’t drunk, he was damned close.
His eyes
were red-rimmed,
and the odor of scotch was strong.
“Maximus!”
“Terry
gave me your message. We must
talk. Will you permit me to come in?” I
stepped aside,
and he
followed me into the house, waiting while I closed and locked the
door.
We stood there looked at each other for a moment.
“May
I get you anything?”
“I
believe coffee would be a good idea, if it isn’t
too inconvenient.” I felt icy fingers close around
my
heart. How
did we get from saying I love you to this frigid politeness?
Oh,
yeah
…I’d refused to marry him if I was
pregnant. I
forced myself to nod, and
we went to the kitchen. I always have at least two cups of
coffee
in the
pot to microwave in the mornings while the fresh pot is dripping, and I
pulled
cups from the cabinet, poured his and added sugar, put creamer in my
own and
stuck both in the microwave before turning to face him. He
was
leaning
against the counter watching me.
“Cara
….”
“Maximus,
I ….” Before I knew what was
happening, I was in his arms, pulled hard against his body, his large
hands
moving up and down my back.
“I’m
so sorry, Maximus, I ….”
“It
is I who is sorry. I should never have
….”
“It’s
all right.” We were tripping over each
other’s words in our efforts to apologize.
“Can
you find it in your heart to forgive my harsh
words and unconscionable behaviour?”
“Yes,
anything you want. Can you forgive my
thoughtlessness?”
“I
would forgive you anything, mio
più cara
….” I’m sure you can fill
in the blanks for the rest of that
scenario. Although he’d had too much to drink to
make love
and I was too
emotionally wrung out, we were in bed in less than five minutes, and I
was in
his arms. For the first time in two weeks, I didn’t
cry
myself to sleep
and didn’t spend the night looking at the clock as the hours
crept past.
*
We
didn’t surface until after ten the next morning,
and when I looked at the clock, I almost bolted from the bed.
Maximus is
adamant about never being late for anything, and that applied doubly to
his
work. I was the lucky one, as I don’t teach on
Tuesdays.
I shook
him awake. He smiled when he opened his eyes, then frowned at
the
look on
my face.
“Maximus,
it’s after ten. I’ll call your
office and tell them we overslept while you shower and dress.
You
have a
clean shirt in the closet, and I’ll steam out your slacks
while
you’re in the
shower.” I had turned to pick up my robe from the
foot of
the bed when he
caught my hand and pulled me back into the bed and snuggled in
again.
“Maximus! Wake up! You’re more
than an hour
late for work!”
“No.
I told Thorne before leaving the office
last evening that I would not be in today. They can survive
one
day
without me.” He’d done that?
I’ll bet Mr.
Ice Water just loved that
one. Maximus pulled me closer, kissing me softly, and I was
about
to
return it when I felt a not unfamiliar twinge in my belly. Of
course I
knew what that was, and though I was appropriately grateful for the
affirmation
of the EPT’s accuracy, the timing was truly crappy.
I
wriggled out of
Maximus’ arms.
“I’ll
be right back.” In the bathroom, I got
final confirmation that I wasn’t pregnant and breathed a
prayer
of relief,
while at the same time feeling a sense of loss. Cognitive
dissonance,
meet the woman of the 21st
century. By the time I made
it back
to the bedroom, Maximus was lying on his side, watching and waiting for
me. Although he looked concerned, his intentions were rather
obvious if
you get my drift, and I sat on the side of the bed and looked at
him.
“Maximus,
unless you’re in the mood for a bit of a
mess, this is going to have to wait …I just got absolute
confirmation that I’m
not pregnant.” That hadn’t necessarily
stopped me in
years past, but I
had no idea what Maximus’ feelings might be regarding sex
while I
was
bleeding. For all I knew, there might have been some Roman
taboo
about
sex with a menstruating woman. This morning there was also
the
fact that
even if he didn’t mind, I did. For the first time
in over a
year, I was
getting cramps; I tend get them when I’ve been under a lot of
stress. His
easy acceptance surprised me a bit.
“Then
we shall wait; it will not cause me undue
discomfort. Henceforth, we will take precautions. I
was
unsure as
to what my reception would be last night and left the means in the
car.”
I grinned at him, and he grinned back before speaking again.
“How do you
feel? Have you any pain?” I
blinked. How would
he know about
that? He sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his
jockeys,
then stood
and turned to me. “Do not look surprised that I
know of
these things; I
was married, if you recall. Ileana suffered greatly during
her
courses,
thus the possibility that you might do the same on occasion is not
foreign to
me. Now, I ask again …have you any
pain?” I
shrugged.
“A
bit, nothing to write home about.”
“Then
stay here and rest. I will get you a
glass of juice and some aspirin while we wait for the coffee to
perk.” It
wasn’t possible for Maximus to be empathic, but he was sure
as
hell being
sympathetic; I was amazed. This was another of those
I-don’t-know-what-I-expected-but-this-wasn’t-it
moments. I seem to have a
fair number of those where this man is concerned. He came
around
to my
side of the bed and kissed me on the forehead, brushing my now short
hair off
my forehead before walking toward the kitchen. As he got to
the
bedroom
door, he turned back to me for a moment.
“I
was too relieved at the fact that you would let
me into the house last night to comment, but this morning I wish to say
that I
like your hair this way. It becomes you.”
I grinned
at him.
He liked my short hair. Now that, if nothing else, made him a
keeper.
*
We
spent the day doing a great deal of nothing, and
by that, I mean nothing of earth shattering import to anyone other than
ourselves.
We went for a walk, to the supermarket (I hadn’t been since
the
night he’d
walked out, and the cupboard was literally bare), then came home and
piled into
the bed for a nap. I went to sleep with my head on his
shoulder.
When I awoke a bit over an hour later, he wasn’t in bed with
me
so I went
looking for him. I found him stretched out on the floor of
the
lounge
surrounded by the dogs. He had one arm behind his head and
had
apparently fallen asleep with Bear’s head on his
chest.
Bear looked up as
I walked in, giving me an accusatory look that said
“Don’t
you dare
wake my
pillow!” I padded silently into the kitchen
intending to
start dinner as
it was after six. The dogs followed me, their toenails
clicking
on the
hardwood flooring. Maximus was awake in a heartbeat and
followed
me,
taking the package of steaks I was about to open from my hands and
placed the
knife I had placed on the counter back into the butcher
block. At
this
rate, those steaks will be freezer burned before they ever get eaten.
“You
are not cooking tonight. Get
dressed. We will eat out.” He smiled as I
frowned
slightly and
shook his head. “There will be no discussion on it
this
night, Cara.”
He made drinks for us, and we watched the remainder of the evening news,
then
left for a tiny little family-owned restaurant in the small town
nearby.
The place isn’t fancy, but the food is simple, filling and
very
well prepared
in a family-style manner. They have daily specials, and
tonight’s offering
was pot roast. We both ordered that and sipped our tea while
we
waited on
our meal which, as always, was wonderful. The roast was fork
tender and
with sides of real mashed potatoes – not that pasty excuse
that
comes in a box
and to which you add water – fresh green beans, and choice of
desserts. I
passed on the dessert but laughed when Maximus tried banana pudding for
the
first time. It was a hit; he had a second helping and bought
more
to take
home. Seeing this Stoic unbend enough to allow himself more
than
he
needed to survive was a complete anomaly. We watched TV for a
couple of
hours after returning home and went to bed. I slept like the
dead
and
didn’t wake until Maximus kissed me as he left for work the
next
morning.
When he returned that night, he had clothes with him for the rest of
the week.
*
I woke
Saturday morning with a mission.
Maximus and I were going to talk - really talk - not about the reality
that we
were in love but about his former life. As we sat on the
deck
drinking
coffee, I posited that the reason for our argument was ignorance
…mine of his
time and societal morés, his of mine. Not too
surprisingly, he
agreed. I actually do know quite a bit about the history of
the
We
showered, dressed, packed a picnic lunch,
hustled the dogs into my Jeep, and hit the road. Maximus was
driving and
asked where we were going as we pulled out of my drive. I
didn’t have a
clue, other than to tell him to drive until he saw an exit off the
interstate
that looked promising, and then to follow the first little country
road he
found appealing. He just shook his head and smiled at me and
off
we went,
heading south and east. Two hours later we were in deep
We
were both wearing our sidearms as when you go
wandering about in the forest you don’t know what you might
encounter.
I’d had a close call with a
“Since
awakening in this time I have had numerous
occasions on which my second century values and morés have
come
into direct
conflict with those of this time. Our misunderstanding is the
most recent
– and the most disturbing – as it very nearly cost
me the
one thing I had
searched for since coming into this time.” Pardon
me?
What the hell
was he talking about? He caught the look and smiled before
continuing. “I know that statement makes no sense
at this
time, Cara,
but it
will.
Please ...give me time.” I nodded slowly, silently
encouraging him to continue.
“You
asked why I call you Cassandra. There is
no simple explanation, though I believe that your openness to phenomena
such as
time travel and parallel universes …and reincarnation
…will make this somewhat
easier for you to hear. I only hope that you
believe.” I was
becoming more curious with each sentence he spoke but knew that if I
gave him
time, somehow whatever he was trying to tell me would fall
into
place.
Maximus sat up, crossed his legs Indian-fashion and pulled me into a
similar
position, holding my hands as he spoke. “I ask that
you
open your mind as
you have in the past and listen to all that I tell you before you
speak
again. You will have questions; you will
disbelieve. I ask
only
that you not discount what I tell you until you have proof that what I
say is
true and, in time, that proof will make itself known to
you.” I nodded
slowly, prepared for what I’m not sure, but promised myself
that
I would do as
he asked. His eyes were locked on mine when he began his
revelation.
