Intermission (10 page)

“Chloe! This is insane! Just keep walking.” she screams.

We start pushing our way through the crowd, aiming for the clearing by the boat slip. A massive number of people of every gender and orientation are bumping into us, touching us and even shouting crude obscenities – most of which sound physically impossible. A drag queen dressed as Tina Turner gets right in my face, licks my cheek and honks my tits.

“Oh honey, you’re gorgeous! Let’s party,” she yells. I’m not sure what
party
means to Tina Turner, but I can assume it doesn’t include a couple of beers and a game of cards.

Natalie yanks me so forcefully that I bump into a naked guy wearing only an Abe Lincoln top hat and a black thong. He waves a baggie full of white pills in my direction and asks, “Do you wanna hit? It’s the 1776 special!”

I’ve lost all rational focus. I hear Natalie’s voice, but I have no idea what she’s saying. The smells, the touching, the strobe lights – I think I might pass out. But not only did my mother nag me about wearing clean underwear at all times (like seriously, what girl puts on dirty?), she also warned me to not be caught dead in the following places: a rave, a crack house, an underground sex club or a virgin sacrifice. And until tonight, I thought she was crazy.

We reach the only empty space on the dock and hold onto each other. My breathing is loud and shallow, but I manage to get out a chuckle, and then a cackle. Natalie cocks her eyebrows and shakes her head, but then she starts laughing at the bizarreness of our situation.

“Too much?” she asks between snorts.

“No, of course not! Remember Jamie’s party in ninth grade when we smoked strawberry cigarettes and played spin the bottle? Same exact thing,” I say.

Natalie stops abruptly and shakes my arm. She’s staring ahead at a large sailboat with a Portuguese flag and . . .
him
.

Tall.

Handsome.

And quietly ignoring the peccadillo mayhem.

His white shirt is unbuttoned to his waist, exposing his brown, smooth skin and a lion tattoo. He’s leaning carelessly against the railing of a boat ramp, glaring at us. He seems angry or annoyed . . . but then he smiles and sexily bows his head.

“Happy birthday,” Natalie whispers.

He looks us both over, taking an eternity to trail his dark eyes all over our bodies. He finally nods in approval and leans his head in the direction of the sailboat. He turns and makes his way onto the deck, pausing to glance back at us with a sexy smirk. I never thought I would be so turned on by a man’s acceptance, but being wanted by a demi-god/stranger is thrilling.

“Nat, what does that mean?” I need to make sure I’m not imagining him. He’s the one. Everything I’ve been waiting for . . . the psychic was right.

“Chloe,” she sighs, “what are you waiting for? Go to him!”

I exhale deeply, not knowing what to expect. This is crazy, but it feels right and I’ve ignored my impulses for way too long. I’m twenty-five, it’s a summer night and I’m ready to live in my future.

“Okay, let’s go.” I drag Natalie with me as we board the ramp. “There’s no way I’m leaving you.”

We step onto the upper deck, holding hands and breathing simultaneously. Natalie and I have shared most details of our life together and this is just one more crazy adventure . . . I think.

The deck is dimly lit and quite cramped. To our immediate left, standing on the foredeck, a couple is hastily removing their clothing. The guy tosses his shirt at my head, making me feel less confident and extremely unwelcome. Just as I’m about to bail, two guys, both handsome and weirdly identical, climb up from the cabin below, smiling sweetly.

“Hey ladies, can we get you some champagne?” they ask. I hesitate, but Nat instantly shimmies between them and giggles.

“We would love some champagne! I’m Francesca and this is my sister Bianca.” Natalie should really be an actress. “Are you the Decker twins?” she flirtatiously asks.

“We are! Have we met?” The twins surround Natalie and she looks so petite in comparison to their large frames, which is something I know she enjoys.

“We have not, but after tonight, you will never forget me.” She winks.

Natalie grabs my hand and places a condom and a piece of gum in the palm. She’s the most resourceful and intelligent person I know and I have to assume that this is code for
go find that guy and fuck him.

“Hey, is this your boat? I need to use the restroom,” I say to the twins.

They both look at me and if they answer in unison like some weird twin telepathy thing, I’ll die. Luckily, only one speaks. “No, this is Pablo’s boat. The restroom is down below – do you want me to take you?”

“Oh, I can find him,” I say. Nat and the twins laugh as I descend the narrow stairs, but that couple on the deck, holy shit . . . she’s standing over him thrusting the guy’s head into her pussy and screaming wildly. The lamppost is illuminating their movement and the freaks standing at the boat slip can see everything – but maybe that’s the point? Jesus, her body is phenomenal and if I wasn’t looking for the man of my dreams, I would have a seat and watch.

I must be staring too long because Natalie taps my shoulder. “Pablo is back there.” She places her hand in front of her chest and points behind her. I look past the twins and spot
him
, languid and sexy as hell – waiting patiently for me.

Pablo’s body is draped over the wheel of the boat, his eyes intently watching me and his hands stroking the leather wrapping. I walk toward him as seductively as I can, which is hard to accomplish in such a short distance, but I’ve mastered the sensual hip sway. He doesn’t even flinch. Damn.

I stop in front of the wheel and stare into his dark eyes. Pablo is incredibly sexy, like a living, breathing underwear model that knows exactly how to command the silence. Most men think that seducing a woman results in the most pleasurable sex, but real men understand it’s a balance of power that ultimately brings the intimacy to a whole new level . . . but, from his shaggy dark hair, to the movement of his neck when he swallows, and the fullness of his bottom lip – I’m willing to submit to whatever he wants.

His large hand skims my arm, causing uncontrollable goose bumps to invade my body. Pablo takes my hand and slowly kisses the inside of my palm. He takes my other hand (the one clenching a condom) and smiles adorably. Pablo wraps his hands around my wrists and pulls me to the space between him and the wheel. He lowers my hand to his cock, and I literally perch my fingers like a tiny bird on his gigantic branch.

Pablo kisses my cheek with his warm, wet lips as I move my hands under his shirt and savor his toned flesh. He kisses my other cheek and I unbutton the last two buttons of his shirt as I lick his chest. Holy fuck, his skin is so silky smooth, and I have the urge to claw the shit out of it. I trail my tongue from his chest to his neck and stop around his stubbly chin. Pablo breathes heavily into my forehead as my hands move up and down his fantastic body. He pecks my nose and then his tongue slowly licks around the outline of my lips, clockwise . . . and . . . counter-clockwise. My mouth parts and he grabs my cheeks in his hands, pushing my head back. His wet tongue penetrates my lips with a powerful thrust, moving rhythmically inside my mouth. I open my eyes to watch, and the intensity of his mysterious face is breathtaking. Pablo is fucking my mouth with his tongue . . . this is going to be amazing!

Pablo quickly spins me around, pressing me against the hard, steel wheel. I grab onto the leather rim as he bites my shoulder and squeezes my hips. His hand violently rips at my zipper (shit – not my Raquel Welch!) My dress falls to the boat floor and I’m contemplating the easiest way to snatch it, fold it neatly and place it on the bench . . . Pablo bites my back . . . ah, fuck the dress. He pops open my bra then lowers behind me. I look back over my shoulder and he’s sitting casually on the bench with a dirty little smile and a hard-on the size of a yacht.

He grabs my hips and pulls my ass toward his face. I bend over the wheel as he lowers my panties and kisses my lower back, then my ass, then my pussy, then . . . holy shit – his tongue rims my ass and smoothly slides in. I can’t deny the intense pleasure, I like it, I like him . . .
oh
, I moan. His finger slides between my lips so I squeeze the wheel as tight as I can. I may have stopped breathing, but I can feel everything. The tongue goes in, the finger goes out, over and over . . . in and out.

I focus on the foredeck fuckers in front of me, banging the shit out of each other and panting. They’re on their sides facing me and he has stretched her leg all the way to his ear. Damn, she’s a limber bitch. Pablo stands and I try to stand but he pushes me back over the wheel. I hear the rip of the condom wrapper, and it will be my only preparation for the hardest entry I could ever imagine. I wince from the pressure but then slowly start to feel the warmness of pleasurable pain. Pablo won’t let up, each thrust is harder than the last. His balls are slapping against my throbbing clit and I don’t know how much longer I can go in complete silence. But I realize it’s not quiet . . . a crowd has gathered at the boat slip, watching and chanting as the four of us share a very raw, yet highly sensual orgasm.

Oh, and there’s fireworks . . . real explosives, not passion.

 
 
July 5, 2003
4:45 a.m.

Pablo’s masculine body is barely covered by the small blanket I found underneath the bench. He fell asleep with me in his arms a few hours ago and it felt right, but then he rolled onto his back and I went tumbling to the floor. Now I’m hunkered behind the wheel of a boat, gazing at the stars, freezing my ass off and once again, waiting for some sort of sign from the universe.

The dock is almost empty and most of the sailboats have long departed up the Atlantic coast. It’s unlikely that I will ever witness something like this ever again – and I’m perfectly okay with that. Natalie climbs out from the cabin doorway and tiptoes toward me. When she passes Pablo she lifts the blanket to check out his package. She gives me a thumbs up and takes another look.

“Chloe, come sit with me.” She reaches for my hand and we walk to the outer deck, choosing a spot closest to the water. Our legs dangle off the side as we sit quietly for a few minutes and stare off into the dawn

“So? Did you get your double Decker?” I ask.

“Uh, no. We mostly just fooled around – they don’t like to share,” she laughs. Natalie puts her arm around my cold shoulders and hugs me. “Can I tell you something crazy? Like, don’t judge okay?”

“Natalie, you can tell me anything, you know that!”

She looks up into the sky and blurts, “I miss Zach. I think I love him,” she says sadly.

“Wow. Have you told him that?” I ask.

“Of course not! I was thinking I would tell him in December when he comes home. God, I never pictured myself yearning for a guy, well except for Marky Mark.”

“Nat, I think it’s a great idea. I’ve read some of his letters—” Nat pinches my arm, “sorry but you left them on the dresser! The guy is madly in love with you!”

She smiles happily and toys with the necklace he gave her. “Yeah, he is. And what about you? What were you thinking about up here alone?”

“Well, since we’re admitting crazy things . . . do you remember that psychic?” I ask embarrassed.

“Vaguely,” she answers. I can’t believe Natalie doesn’t remember the night that has affected my daily life for the past seven years. It’s amazing actually, we’re so much alike and yet we perceive the world so differently.

“Oh? Well, anyway – she told me that I would find love when I’m twenty-five and he would be tall, handsome and quiet.”

“That’s right. Didn’t we have amazing donuts as well?” She giggles.

“Nat, I’m being serious. I think Pablo could be the one!”

Natalie scrunches her nose and tilts her head. She looks back at Pablo sleeping on the bench and shakes her head. “That’s not Pablo.”

“What? Yes he is – this is his boat.” I demand.

“Did he tell you that?”

“We, uh, actually never spoke to each other.” I say quietly.

“Tabernac! Chloe, that hottie is
not
Pablo. The twins told me last night that Pablo is some rich old dude from Portugal . . . maybe that’s his son?”

Motherfucker. I’ve been so distracted by the future that I’ve repressed all my instincts in the present. How could I fall in love with a guy that doesn’t even know me or my name? Ugh, it’s the same cycle over and over and I feel used. It’s all wrong, it’s been wrong and I’m tired of waiting for the magic. Sex with
that
guy is my much-needed closure . . . meaningless sex with an anonymous man to close out this pointless period of my life.

And with this closure comes wisdom.

“Nat, let me have your cell phone!” I say loudly. She pulls her phone from her bra and stares at me.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you can’t call that poor woman and ask for a refund . . . only a 50% off-coupon,” she laughs. Great, of course she remembers that part.

I take her phone and dial the number to the bar. I know no one will be there this early in the morning, but I can leave a message for Dennis. After like sixteen rings, the answering machine finally beeps.

“Hey Dennis, it’s Chloe. So, this is what’s going to happen . . . Friday nights, me and my guitar will be having a show. You should probably spring for a legitimate microphone and speakers, because I plan to rock the shit out of
The Bridge.”

I close Natalie’s phone, excited and relieved about my impulsive decision. It’s the first time I’ve not been preoccupied about the future and the first time I’ve welcomed the idea of not knowing. Holy crap, I’m twenty-five! And from now on, I’m living in the fucking moment.