Oil and Water

By the time we get back to her apartment it's late and we're both tired, the long day, the adrenalin, stress and exercise, and the booze all combining to wear us out. And when I plop down on the couch for a minute she turns on the TV and curls up next to me, head on my shoulder. And it's only minutes before we're both out like a light.

When I wake up with a bit of a stiff neck an hour later I shake her and whisper softly, "Come on baby, let's go to bed." I help her up and we stagger into the bedroom and strip down before climbing under the blankets and snuggling up. And in the moment before I'm asleep again it strikes me it's so damn natural I can't believe it!

Somewhere in the middle of the night I wake slowly, to the nicest feeling. I'm warm and comfortable and really don't want to wake up for a moment. And then she moves again. I tighten my arms around her a trifle. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

"Me too."

She wiggles against me just a bit, getting even closer. And in a few moments we both doze off again.

But this time it's more like a power nap, and in 20 minutes or so I'm awake again, and this time the cobwebs are gone quickly. And I lie there, not moving a muscle so as not to disturb her, and my mind goes into overdrive. How the hell did this happen, and what the hell are we doing?

Little doubts, hiding in the darkness, come out and play with me. What happens if the sex gets old, like it did with my other girlfriends? Well it's better with her than it's ever been. Suppose it turns out we have nothing in common except that we're good in bed? Will she have some kind of a problem with me like it seems she has with every other guy in her life?

Will little personal things start interfering with our jobs; if we have a bad day, will it carry over to everyone else at work? And if we start messing up how long before it's noticed? We both have great reputations, but it won't take long for that to go down the toilet if we screw something up. Relationships at work are carefully scrutinized, both vicariously and officially.

I know everything about her, but I really know nothing about her. I know she has a sister that calls a lot. But mom, dad? She's hardly mentioned them. And I know I've never shared anything much about me. She knows even less. There aren't any skeletons in my closet, just not much family, an older sister, mom in a retirement village in Florida, dad gone for quite a while now. But what about her? Does it even matter?

But my mind fights back. Hey! Seven years! I've known everything she's done, every vacation she's taken. And she knows the same about me. And relationships! I know I haven't talked too much about my problems, at the time they always hurt too much. But it didn't seem to matter to her. She just nursed me back to health, made me see there's always a tomorrow. And what maybe neither of us knew is, this is tomorrow!

Her relationships always turn out to be a mess. She tells me this and that, but the bottom line seems to be bad choices. Or maybe just wanting too much, trying too hard. And overlooking danger signs. Hell one guy she dated for a couple of weeks turned out to be married! And another one now has a live-in boyfriend! I bet she has nightmares about that one.

Well what about me? Again, no skeletons. But am I enough for her? Once the shine wears off am I exciting enough to keep her interested? Hey bozo! Seven fucking years! And she's interested now! And I know it's because of our daily sparring, little jabs here and there, always in fun and taken that way. But it's exciting, keeps us on our toes, always trying hard to counterpunch just enough to stay even.

Hey! This is important! I need to remember that I can't just take her for granted! You asshole! It's my job to keep her interested! Every day little surprises. Even if it's just a sudden kiss on the neck. Maybe a silly trinket that tells her I'm thinking about her. And sharing. If I hear something that's funny or interesting or I wonder about, tell her! We won't always agree, but hell. She's the smartest person I know. Listen! 'Cuz maybe she's right! It's happened plenty of times at work. She's saved my ass more than once. Or at least, embarrassment. And never be mean. Even if I get a little annoyed, don't take it out on her. She's not that way. If she says or does something I don't like it's not because she wants to hurt me. God, I need to remember that!

Fuck all the doubts. It could work. So the real question is, do I want it? After all, I'm in my thirties. Even though I've had several relationships, Do I really want something permanent? I just blamed her for her bad choices. But what about me, could it be the same? Never mind the excuses! Could it? Am I really a loner that just needs some closeness once in a while? Will I get tired of just about anyone, eventually? Even her? Because she was right. We have work to think of. And we sure as shit can't take a chance of screwing up our relationship and that too!

"Billy?" Ease up a little bit, okay?"

Oh my god! I've got her in a vise grip! As I've been lying here, thinking, I've been squeezing her tighter and tighter! And suddenly I know what matters. The only thing! Sandy! The rest will just have to sort itself out. And as I relax my arms I lean down and kiss her forehead.

"Mmmmmmm, that's much better!" And that's the last thing she gets to say before my lips lock over hers.

We lie still, only moving our heads a bit as we kiss for long minutes. And the only sounds are tiny little moans and sighs telling each other how good we feel. But when the inevitable happens she moves a hand down and wraps her fingers around my hardness and holds me, like, that's just what you do.

It takes a groan to do it, but I slide a hand between us and she pulls back just enough so that it can close around one of the girls. And the sigh of pleasure tells me it was just the right thing to do. I just hold her gently, but I make sure my fingertips have the tiny little bud captured between them. And for some reason it seems to be swelling, getting harder.

We are still burrowed deep beneath the covers, so dark that all I can see is the dimmest of reflection off a cheekbone, light from who knows where. Not worth keeping eyes open. But the Darkness can be a scary place, the realm of doubts and fears. Confidence and hope, so bright in the daylight, can crumble and vanish into a million what-ifs.

But now it's a world of heightened senses, touch and feel, sound, taste, and even smell. Perhaps an indistinct stale odor; we were much too tired to hit the shower before bed. But that's not important now, a problem that will be taken care of when needed, in due time. Mostly though, it's her scent, a faint, sweet natural fragrance that just seems to emanate from her, combined with the more powerful, enticing tang of her sex.

When my hand closes ever so slightly, squeezing her, I feel her respond in kind. And when my tongue slides gently between her lips, searching for hers, for some reason both of us stretch and shudder, our bodies pulling back, then molding to each other. And our hands somehow take up a rhythm together, a slow, steady pulsing, feeling wonderful all out of proportion to the degree of movement.

But little by little her grip becomes a long slow stroking, and my hand kneads gently, fingertips pinching and pulling just enough. And after more long minutes of kisses and moans and touches I feel her shaking, and her lips break away from mine. "Billy! My god!"

"I know."

We both know what's needed, yet somehow there's a great reluctance to move. But finally she lifts a leg and slides it over my thigh until it's above my hip. And my body follows the tug of her hand until we're in place, just right. And with no discernible signal our hips roll in unison, and I slide easily into the warm wet tunnel, just enough. And I smile at the tiny little whimper that comes from between clenched lips and whispers, "More."

As I begin to thrust, ever so slowly, we both shift slightly, until, when I am buried deep inside, it's perfect. And I love the shaky little gasps that each long slow stroke elicits, but I know I'm making them too. My hands are on her back now, just above her hips, and she's got hers on the back of my neck, fingers tickling my hair. And although I can't see a thing, I know the grin on her face must be just as big and wonderful as the one I'm wearing.

Because this is not fucking. It's not just sex. It's lovemaking. And what we're doing is not nearly so important as why. Of course it's too soon to say we're "in love". Only time will tell. But it's a sign, a hint, perhaps a warning, that it could happen. This is new ground for me, likely for her. And even as the thought makes my hips thrust harder, my gasps more distinct, her tightness clenching around me more exquisite, there is a sense that my life has somehow changed.

But that that feeling is slowly but surely replaced by passion and lust, and when I begin thrusting harder, more urgently, she responds, a little grunt accompanying every buck of her hips. And from the darkness, "My turn!"

Her hand presses back on my shoulder and at the same time she pushes herself forward and up, until suddenly I'm on my back and she's mounted atop me, the covers now sliding off her back. And in the dim light from the window I can see the grin as she leans forward and puts her hands on my chest. Her ass starts to lift and fall, first the same rhythm that we just enjoyed, but quickly harder, more urgent. And her round bottom begins to slap loudly against my hips as she impales herself, over and over, taking every millimeter she can get. Even the bed picks up her beat, squeaking its way up and down with every thrust.

Even though I can barely see them I know they're there, and when my palms find her breasts my fingers stick to them like magnets, cradling them as they sway and bounce. And her response of, "Oh damn!" signals a renewed attack as she begins pounding down on me, whimpering and gasping with the effort.

There's a low growl coming from my throat as I pull my knees up behind her, and when she rams herself back on me I thrust forward, pounding against her ass and driving myself even deeper. And quickly I take over, rolling my hips with hard, staccato thrusts which end with a satisfying loud slap. Her hands move to my shoulders and she just holds herself steady, a willing recipient of all I can give her.

Her breasts are stroking against me now as they sway, the incredibly hard, rough nipples tickling the hairs and grinding little trails of fire back and forth across my chest. But even better are the little grunts and cries and moans that play counterpoint to my labored breathing. And I can see the shine in her eyes in the growing light of the dawning day.

I'm getting tired, even my trips to the gym not having prepared me for this kind of continuous effort. But whatever it takes, I'm not stopping now. And with a snarl of determination I step up another notch, my thighs banging against her ass as I pound away. Her breath is coming in long, deep gasps, but she's braced and ready, her body only shuddering slightly with the impacts.

Until suddenly she yells, "Oh god, fuck me Billy!" and begins rocking hard to meet me, her knees sliding to the sides, opening herself up even wider to me. The noises are now wet and juicy, my cock and balls coated with her cream. And when I feel the tingle I suddenly reach up and grab her, pulling her down to my chest and pistoning into her until I impale her with one final thrust. And her scream and my growl are perfectly timed as we buck together, over and over, bodies pummeling each other.

In a minute or two it's done, except for the long contractions, deep inside her, and her breath is coming in shivery gasps. When I remember to let go she pushes up and stares down at me with a look I can't define. Fear, wonder, anxiety? All together. And she quavers, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," before she collapses and buries her face in my neck.

After we lie still for long minutes, recovering, the strange desperate mood that seemed have overtaken both of us is suddenly gone, and in its place, optimism, ambition, the joy of being. The energy is palpable and almost boundless! With the rise of the sun is a new desire, to greet it, run with it!

We quickly take a shower and then make plans. The first, of course, is to head for my apartment, get me my hiking gear and a fresh change or two for later. While I make us some fresh coffee she gets together a snack for us both and puts it in her new pack, along with some camera stuff. We're in such a hurry and we don't know why! We just have the need to move, to do, to be together. And as soon as I tell her how great she looks in her new shorts and the sexy t-shirt we head out.

We take a little longer than expected at my apartment, because I forgot she's never seen it, and she has to poke and explore just a little. But I use the time, changing to my hiking shorts and boots and making sure the usual supplies for the trail are in my pack. And I fill water bottles for us both. And since we still plan to head back to her apartment afterwards, I stuff a little duffle with some clothes, including a change for the office. They'll have to live with the wrinkles.

I've always known where I'd take her, a trail I've always loved, only five or six miles long with a gradual climb up to a ridge above a river valley where you can see forever. And then it loops around and follows the rushing river downstream for a while before leading us back to our car.

The hour's drive is pretty quiet. She's a little nervous about being able to just do the hike; I'm hoping she'll love it and want more. When we arrive she's anxious to just go, but I make sure her pack is adjusted to the right spot on her back. Then she takes it off again and pulls a little waist belt thingy out of the pack, takes a small camera from it and then tells me to put it on. By the time I have it adjusted she's finished fiddling with the dials and she slides it into the pouch for me, making sure it's fastened. And she tells me, if there's anything I'd like to try taking a picture of, let's just stop and do it!

We head up a little slope through some trees, then out across a meadow. It's pretty, with flowers all around just like always. But we haven't gone a hundred yards when she stops me. "Billy, don't you see? This place is wonderful! Look at the flowers!" And in an instant her pack is off and her camera is out and she ignores the dirt on her knees as she kneels down in front of a clump of beautiful blue somethings, moving several times until she has the light and the composition just right.

And then I hear the shutter firing, time after time as she dodges a little, left and right, up and down, changing the angle, the light, the distance. In a few moments I'm sure she's taken at least 30 pictures! She stares at the back of the camera for a moment, humming little sounds of appreciation, and then she stands and shoves the back of the camera in front of my face. And she says, "Push this," pointing to a little button on one side.

And there they are, all the pictures! And oh my god, some are beautiful! Some look like an arranged bouquet, even though it was Mother Nature's hand. And some are so close I can see the texture in the individual petals, something I'd never noticed before. But near the end, I gasp. Three pictures in a row there's a honey bee, gathering pollen, each time in a little different position. And in the last one his wings are frozen in flight and I can even see the tiny veins in them!

I look up at her with my mouth open, amazed. "Oh baby, these are so beautiful! To me they were just little spots of color along the trail and you made them into works of art! And that bee! It's ..."

She has a smile a mile wide. "It's going up on the wall in my office! The last one. A picture like that is mostly luck, But if everything's set just right and you keep at it, things like that happen! But the first thing is, you have to recognize good opportunities. To you it was just a beautiful color-filled meadow, but to me it was a whole world of individual beautiful subjects. I could spend all day right here! Getting pictures like that takes lots of practice and you have to know your camera. The little one I gave you won't do that but you can still get some great shots. Here, let me show you!"

I hand her the camera out of my pouch and she scans the area for a minute. And she spots an area where there are some pink and yellow flowers mixed in with the blue ones. She crouches down and shoots different areas, capturing different flowers and different angles, then stands and shoots straight down into the little cups and pinwheels. And she hands me the camera again. "This button."

And I look again. And I can hardly believe it! The flowers aren't as close, now little groupings instead of individuals, and patterns instead of textures. But still beautiful. I take a deep breath and look at her like someone I never saw before. "You are amazing!"

She giggles. "Yes, but you can be too!" She takes the camera for a moment and shoots one picture of the palm of her hand, then gives it back. "That's so you'll know where you started. Now; you saw what I did, just do the same and look for the same kinds of things I took the pictures of. There's no right and wrong, just what pleases you! The camera will take care of all the settings, you just have to find the great pictures!"

Now my hands are shaking a little as I take back the camera, and I look around blankly for a few moments. But then I spot a nice little grouping with all the different colors and carefully move near it, about the same distance she started at. But she tells me to move around a little, so the light is better and my shadow isn't on the flowers. And when I raise the camera and start to aim she tells me to anchor my elbows against my chest to hold the camera more steady, then push the button lightly so I don't shake it. And in a moment I'm blazing away, shooting everything that catches my eye.

After a couple of minutes she tells me to stand and move closer, then point almost straight down like she did. And now I'm beginning to see little puddles of color. And I move up and down, getting closer then backing off, until I find the look I like best. And I get so into it I almost forget to stop! But she finally says, "Baby, let's see what you've got!"

I hand her the camera again and we put our heads together, looking at the little screen. The first few pictures aren't much, too shaky and too far away. But little by little they get better! And I'm amazed again when I realize I was beginning to see the same things she did! And by the time we come to the last picture I've seen a few that I might put on MY wall!

She gives me a great big grin, obviously pleased with my enthusiasm, and says, "C'mon baby, your turn to show me how to hike. With a start like this I know we'll find lots of great things to take pics of, but," she giggles, "we need to get back before dark. Unless you brought the tent!"

Off we go, up the long hill, and I find she's in great shape when I realize she's not puffing any more than I am. And when we get to a steep slope I warn her to stay off the wet muddy spots and stick to the gravel or well anchored rocks. And I warn her whenever there's a low-hanging branch, carefully holding some of them until she can get by. But our progress is slowed because she keeps finding more wonderful subjects to shoot! And it's noon before we reach the ridge.

When we come out of the trees onto the rocky top she turns around, looking at the beautiful view, drinking in the far hills and the river below. But she doesn't touch her camera. And I finally say, "I've been here quite a few times before and today is as pretty and clear as I've ever seen it! I'll bet this will give us some great pictures!" and I quickly reach for the camera.