Captain of Her Heart

For the next five hours, we worked steadily removing everything we could carry. She called and rented a large storage unit and came back with a moving truck after the first load. I was overwhelmed by her initiative but asked no questions. The expensive furniture went first, cabinets and trunks. Then we carefully stacked Mom's china, wrapped it in clothes and blankets and put them on board. I broke down the beds and she carried the pieces out; mattresses were tossed from windows and I was proud to say that at five forty-five, we had done a professional job of looting the house, including all of the sentimental items.

Alisa wheeled the truck away with me following in her Suburban just as I saw my brother's car rounding the far corner, his purple neon running lights giving him away. I kept my speed steady, pretending not to be shaking as hard as I was and only started breathing normally when we pulled into the storage space. It took another four hours of steady work to empty the truck and we took it straight back to the yard afterwards. A final trip to pick up my car at the storage place and we decided to head back to Alisa's apartment.

We hadn't spoken much the entire time we'd worked, just efficiently handled the work as a team. Now, exhausted and spent, we worked to find the strength to speak.

"Thank you."

I was so close to crying that those were the only words I could speak. She seemed to understand and gave me a hug, holding me until the ache in my throat had eased, then took my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. We walked together to lock the front door and extinguish the lights. A short walk, a turn and she left me standing as she switched on a small lamp in the corner of her bedroom. I felt as if I was floating as she collected me and sat me on the edge of the bed.

I didn't see the virago Alisa now. I saw a vulnerable woman who was offering me a look inside her shell. My throat began to ache again as she knelt, untying and removing my scuffed Timberlands. She sat beside me and pulled off her Vans, setting them beside my shoes as if they belonged together. The act was not lost on me and I swallowed a sob as she crawled past me, settling onto one side of the bed. I turned back to look at her and she opened her arms, the look in her eyes accepting and non-judgmental.

I crawled into her arms like a child scared of thunder and trembled with the force of the storm that was raging inside me. She reached behind us and clicked off the lamp and in the darkness, I finally let go, holding onto her tightly as I sobbed my heart out.

*****

Sleep was hard and deep for me after the sleepless night and Alisa's proximity made me feel safe and loved. It might have been the absence of her warm body next to mine or the hiss of the shower that awoke me. Either way, I yawned, stretched and arose, heading for the bathroom. I entered with the idea of taking a pee but the sight that greeted me washed all thoughts away.

Alisa was in the shower and not even the obscure glass could hide her luscious figure. Before I knew it, I had walked up to the door, nearly pressing my nose against the glass as I admired her form. Without warning, the glass slid aside and her sea-green eyes connected with mine. We stood locked for a long moment before she held out a bottle of strawberry-scented shower gel and a bath scrubby, then turned her back on me, heading toward the back of the shower.

I took her actions as an invitation and stepped into the shower, not caring that my shirt, shorts and socks were getting wet. I squeezed a glob of soap onto the scrubby, ran it under the water jets to get it sudsy, then moved behind her, rubbing the gauzy material across her back. Alisa hummed low in her throat, raising her hands to sustain her weight against the wall as our eyes met over her shoulder, her ass rubbing the front of my jean shorts.

I gulped as heat suffused my face. She was offering her body to me but I knew that it wasn't a simple offering. The expression in her eyes told me that we were past the 'quick fuck' stage and she was taking the submissive role, probably for the first time in her life, in the hopes that I would take the risk she hinted at in her letter. Was I finally ready to give myself to someone, to believe that love existed in this cynical world?

Was I ready to accept her challenge?