Back Door Woman: Sunday, A.M.
When Kiefer awoke, P.J. slept soundly in his arms. He headed to the bathroom, took care of business, then crawled back into the warm space he'd just vacated, back into her bed, their bed, wrapping his arms around her again. His mind wandered as he waited for her to awaken.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Safe. Feel safe holding her. Her holding me. Safe and warm and safe. And warm. Trust. Trust her. More than anyone else in the world. She knows shit. God, she knows shit. Shit she could use. Never has. Never will. I know that. Know that. I trust her.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds / admit impediments.
She's breathing so softly. My hope. Hope? Maybe my despair. My hope, my despair. My saving grace, my condemnation. Ah, condemn. My safety, my danger. My love, my hate. No. Not love hate. My buoy, my weight.
The star to every wandering bark.
Bark. A boat. A small boat. My boat. Bobbing aimlessly on the waves without the guiding star when she's not there. When she's gone. I don't know if I can do this again. Fine. She wants to be alone, humph, alone, while she's in L.A. Fine. Let her be alone. She wants him. Fine. It won't be forever. It won't. God, please tell me it won't. Be forever.
Deep breath. Smell her hair. Her skin. Her. Always smells so good. So good. Fresh. Remember the very first time I smelled her hair. A bar. Montana. Drunk. Not too, but drunk. No, I was drunk. She walked in. No, she floated in. We all looked at her. Stared at her. Kids. Sorta kids. Kids compared to her. Lookin' at a woman. Shit. I'll buy her a beer. They laughed. Laughed at me. I'll show 'em. I'll buy her a beer and fuck her, too. They laughed harder. Why are they laughing at me? I'm a cowboy. I'm a skier. I'm fuckin' Kiefer fuckin' Sutherland. She'll be glad to let me fuck her. Hmmm. Yeah, right. How stupid could one man be. One kid.
I walked right up to her. Right up to the bar where she sat. I tapped her right on the shoulder. She turned. My mouth wouldn't work when she looked at me. Straight in the eyes. No flinching. My brain was talking. My mouth wasn't. I heard them laughing. John, was it John, came over, too. You'll have to forgive my friend, ma'am, he said. Said to her. Forgive him. The cat's got his tongue, he said.
She didn't look at him. She looked at me when she answered him. Straight in the eyes.
Well, that's a shame, she said, doesn't he know there are better things to do with his tongue than let the cat get it?
Shit, John, or whoever it was, said. Shit, I guess. Was she talkin' about tongues? God.
My mouth moved. I still wasn't talking. How stupid, how stupid. Had I ever felt more stupid? Yeah. The first time we made love. No. Had sex. No, love. Sex? Whatever. We did it. No, not really. Stupid. Ahhh. At the bar, she turned back around. My head was spinnin.' Dizzy. I fell forward. Right on her. Right on her back. My face fell into her hair. It smelled so good. Fruity. Sweet. Deep, deep breath. Just like it does now. Sweet. I just stayed there on her. John, or whoever it was, pulled me off, away. No, no, don't move me. She smells so good. No. Nobody was moving me away now, though. If anybody was moving, it was J. Was she dreamin' of him? Pablo Schmablo?
Damn that internet shit Sarah gets into. I'd never have known. Well, maybe. Her current events assignment. Focus on service. Top report will be published in L.A. Youth Magazine. Dad, what'll I do for my report? What do you wanna do, Sarah? Something where people help other people. It's about service. Current service. All I could think of was J and her trips to Mexico and South America. No, she'd piss and moan about that . . . . Central and South America. What was the name of that group? Taos something. Yeah. Sarah, look up TAOS-CASA. Texans and Others Serve Central and South America. Went back to what I was doing and suddenly Sarah screamed bloody murder. Thought she'd been shot. God, what's the matter, what's the matter. Daddy, it's J, she screamed. J who I asked. Oh, Daddy, she gave me that look that teenage girls give. You know J who, Daddy. Long time ago. You used to live with her. Sarah didn't know. Know I still saw J. I didn't realize Sarah remembered her. It had been a very long time since J and I had lived together. Had J left her mark on my Sarah, too?
Oh, look at him. He's soooo-ohhhh hot. Who's hot, Sarah? The guy J's with. In the picture on the website. A hottie. Look, Daddy, he's a real hottie. Hottie's ass. Who was this pompous hottie? Antonio Banderas looking. Hair. Long. Lots of long, dark hair. Lots of teeth. White, white teeth. Shiny, shiny riding boots. Polo pony. He held the reins of a polo pony. Who is that, Sarah? The caption says Dr. P.J. Stewart and Dr. Pablo Saavedra outside of Mexico City, Mexico, at Saavedra's ranch. What do you mean hot? He's pompous looking. Oh, he's not, Daddy, not pompous. My own daughter. A hottie, Daddy. Traitor. Was she dreamin' of him? Pablo Schmablo. Not Sarah. J.
Stupid. Why hadn't she thrown me out that first time we made love. Just thrown me out. Oh, I had to work for it. No fallin' in bed with this one. No, she had to fuckin' know me first. Know me. Trust me. Trust me? For what? Fuckin' what? Then I'd found out. God, I thought I was gonna die. I have to trust that you can be careful, control yourself, the first time. Just the first time. Why? Why would I want to control myself? Because. When it's been a long time for me, when it's been awhile, well, it hurts. I have to trust you to be careful. Hurts why. Because, because I'm small. Hell, I know you're small. I've been chasing you around for six damned months. You're small from running away from me. No, no, no, laugh, laugh, laugh. Here. I'm small here. She points between her legs. Was she fuckin' kidding? Are you fucking KIDDING me?
No. I'm not. That's why I have to trust you. And she did. Trust me, finally. And it didn't make any difference anyway the first time. I thought she was kidding. She wasn't. I entered. She flinched. Once twice three times a lady. No. No. Not this tight. No. I'm gettin' off. I haven't moved yet. Her face in pain. NO. I don't want her face in pain. Never. I'm done. Two seconds. One. So embarrassed. Embarrassed. No, no, baby, she said. No, sugar. It's all right. It's just bi-olllll-uh-gee, she croons. Just bi-ollll-uh-gee she expands the syllables in that Southern drawl. Why was she so nice. So nice.
She stirred beside me now. Made that little noise. A cross between an um and an ah. The one that always made me want to squeeze her. Hold her tight. Hold her. To me. God, could she be more . . . more . . . . Was she, did she, make that noise for him? Was he nailin' her? No, that's not important. The question was is she nailin' him? Yeah, that's the question. Pablo fucking Schmablo can't prounounce your last name. Pediatrician. Famous. Private oil and gas family. Suppliers to Pemex. Freakin' suppliers to Pemex, for Chrissakes. He'd be a fuckin' billionaire one day. Oh, and I'd found out more. Was driven to. Hello, Dr. Saavedra I'd practiced saying the name. Jason Smalley here. L.A. Youth Magazine. Lookin' to do a feature on TAOS-CASA and know you've been a part of it for awhile even though you live in Mexico City. What of the people you work with? I've heard others speak of Dr. Stewart. Oh? You know her? Know her, he said. I've been asking her to marry me for years. Oh? And? I think she's finally softening he laughed. You think I should interview her, too? Not unless you want to fall in love. He laughed again. Laughed. Fuckin' Schmablo.
She stirred again. Began the stretch. The morning stretch she always did, arching in a backwards 'c,' pushing her pelvis forward. The stretch always turned her body over and facing me if she weren't already.
"Owwwww," she moaned as she turned. A higher pitch now.
"Owwwwwwwwwwwww." Not a good sound. She was in pain.
I leaned up on my arm. Leaned down to see her face.
"What is it? What is it, J? What's wrong?"
She shifted her weight again.
"Owwwwcha." The sound drug out.
She looked up at me. Big eyes. Wide-eyed. Big, green eyes. Looking at me so innocently. Blinking, blinking, no other expression on her face. Then they narrowed. The eyes. Looked at me still. Suddenly wicked. Mischievous. A smile now, a smile to match the wicked eyes. She held up her hand, crooked the index finger, and motioned me down to her lips. I turned my ear to her mouth. She began to whisper.
"I'm sore, you big, bad boy." She licked my ear and continued. "You banged me good last night. Good and proper." She pulled away, smiling still.
Ohhhhhhhhh. Good and proper. I don't know how proper it was, but it was definitely good. I rested on the pillow again, my arms tightening around her. My left hand found her breast. Her nipple. I loved these breasts. These nipples. My fingers twirled the right one, pulled and teased. She squirmed and giggled.
"Stop it, you tittie baby," she said.
