lie either. I was stepping into my panties before his words reached my ears and buttoning my shorts before he took another breath.
“Tell me about what it felt like when I left you on the lounge?”
I requested in a clinical voice – research and to redirect his focus. I needed to gather as many details as possible about that event and mentally record everything. I listened but heard nothing, nothing for too long.
“Michael, please talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
I waited. I knew he was there because I felt our connection, it was strong, domineering. He would talk.
I concentrated on being thorough and fast. The mirror showed me evidence of changes I was unaware of. My face and neck had a tan glow; the sun’s effect on me was a compliment. I smiled at myself in the mirror; dusted my face, applied lip gloss, a sprits of “Amazing Grace,” grabbed my hairbrush and whispered through the door.
“I’m coming.”
He pulled, I pushed. The door opened. I stepped out of the bathroom and Michael stepped into me. We embraced a secure hug. It was so good; we both felt the intense rush. We were grateful to be back together.
“God woman, you smell so good.” He trembled.
“Be here for me, I won’t be long.”
I reminded him that I was in it, too? The condition, what ever it was, it was a shared affliction. Didn’t he feel my depletion and renewal like I did his? Yeah, we would talk, he would talk.
I thought of a possible way for me to cope with the loss of the connection, temporarily.
“Wait, come here a sec.”
I pulled him by the arm from the small dressing room out to his balcony to get my book.
“I want to see something – a distraction, maybe.”
On our way back to the bathroom, Michael called room service, and ordered breakfast for two, collected a chair for me to sit on while I waited. See how he can take the lead.
“You know, it doesn’t really matter to me at all. I’m not shy; modesty isn’t big on my list. I don’t care if you see me; I prefer that you see me over the door and proximity thing.”
Jump back Jack, did that sound like desperation?
“Michael, we need to add this to our research. Focus on what you are doing and only disconnect from the door while you are in the shower. Hurry”
While Michael was in the bathroom I kept constant contact with the door. When he stepped into the shower, I felt the current change, become distant. I figured he had disconnected but there was still way back there the faint shadow of the connect that I could draw from. I registered the tiny discovery and took a mental snapshot of the idea to ponder over at another time.
Trying to get involved in Michael Creighton’s intrigue didn’t work for me. I put the book down and picked up my hair brush. As I dried my hair with my brush and my fingers, I thought about the reconnect, its immediate effect on both of us as opposed to the disconnect and the slow rise to chaos. Think of the devil…the weakness started somewhere deep and as soon as I recognized what was happening, I stood and pressed my whole body to the door, tears stung my eyes. I forced myself to listen and match his breathing.
“I’m coming.”
I heard his voice from inside. He pushed and I pulled. The door opened. I could tell that he had to interrupt his routine but he was wearing shorts. That’s all I could see before his arms surrounded me. My own arms automatically encircled his waist. We held our bodies close and coordinated our breathing and sighed with relief as the reconnection made things right again.
Infused with gratitude and appreciation we prolonged the embrace and ignited a fuse of desire, passion, pure physical need and the uncontrollable urge to get closer – the reconnect got more and more intense after that point rendering us completely incapable of ignoring the urges.
We were saved by the knock on the stateroom door “Room Service.” We jumped away from each other but held hidden hands to keep our connection. We were letting ourselves get carried away and not from need but just because it felt so good - desire. I was already chastising myself for letting the reconnect go so far.
That’s the second time that we would have completed the connection, the deepest connection, if not interrupted and forced to separate.
My head started to clear. So, if we just allow the reconnect to happen and then a quick change to the pinkie before the reconnect goes too far. The trick will be to know when the reconnect has gone too far before it had gone too far.
I went to the door with Michael right behind me to let the wait staff in. He was in a daze and just stumbled along in my tow. He wasn’t coming out of it very well – he was being lead by his desire. Lordy, I hated to interrupt that. Obviously, it would be up to me to put a stop to letting ourselves get that carried away again. I didn’t want to be that person; I’d like to throw stones at that person. I wanted to be the person who allows it all, who explores passion and brakes down boundaries. It’s my luck, to have the chore of putting the kibosh on something miraculous and sweet. It’s my luck to go against human nature, to put out the fire before any of its glory is seen or felt. Good grief I’m a fuckin’ killjoy.
While breakfast was set up on the balcony, Michael and I stood at the rail, coordinating our breathing and holding hands; we were lost in the expanse of the ocean. I barely noticed it when Michael tipped the waiter and led me to the table. We sat down to a hearty meal. Eating with one hand was difficult and slow but we helped each other and we weren’t in a hurry. We were grateful for each other and found it challenging but very satisfying to operate as one person. We listened to Percy Faith and laughed at our clumsiness’. We didn’t speak much while we ate. We mostly concentrated on using each other’s hand; it took more focus than you would think.
For many long minutes after we were finished with the repast we were absorbed into the air around us, the clean fresh scent, the balanced pressure and heat from the sun kissing our skin both nurturing and warning. We sat in the sun with our faces to the sky, eyes closed; pinkies hooked, and breathed in unison. Our contentment was so complete that every dozen or so breaths were sighs, sighs of complete satisfaction, those too were synchronized.
“Michael,” I interrupted the silence.
“Hum?”
“Would now be a good time to examine our research? There are questions that could give us direction and help focus our experiments.” I let it just sit in the air while I waited for him to answer.
Time didn’t matter and silence was ok. I could feel the word in the air, in all that silence, the word sat in the air slowly taking purchase in his consciousness…
“Experiments?”
His voice was a combination of intrigue and fear.
“Yes, some basic stuff to start and then some tailored experiments as our information grows.”
“What do you mean?” He said, starting to move.
I kept a tight hold on his hand to keep him from rising. It didn’t take much; he settled right back into a lounge position.
