Strung (28 page)

It is
also nice to take care of the smaller things, like shaving my legs in peace and vegetating in my personal space.  Chayton can be very intense and privacy has to be fought for.  Even watching a full news bulletin is now a luxury.

So he wants to watch? 
I’m not sure about that, although...I would love to watch his face while he watches.  Hmmm. 

~.~

24
th
April

I hang up the phone with a heavy sigh.  I was really looking forward to seeing him again.  I've tried to keep busy while
he has been away, but the days have dragged by, feeling strangely empty and pointless.  Only his evening phone calls have kept me from slipping into full time depression.  Now he is only returning on Friday.  Well at least I get to spend the weekend with him.

~.~

26
th
of April

"I haven't seen you in a while, Acacia."
 

"Yes, well it was your brilliant idea that I should only see you once a month.
”  I spit, startling Victoria.  "Sorry, just in a bit of a mood."

"So I see.  What's got you so miserable?"

"Chayton has been away for a week.  I'm having separation anxiety," I mutter sulkily.

"I guess your relationship is going well then?"

"Too well, it scares me.  He is really intense and complex and confusing."

"Mmm, I can see how Mr. Donavan can be intense.  What are you finding complex and confusing?" asks Victoria.

"Well, he's like two different people.  Both hot, both sexy and both irresistible – but both undeniably different.  When he is in the city he is more energetic, more daring, harder, a little intimidating."

"And when he's not in the city?"

"Well on the mountain he is more..." where are the words when I need them?  "Mellow.  More cautious and reserved, pouring his carbs into strength rather than energy.  It's like personifying a Tuxedo and a Hells Angels jacket and then comparing them.

"Do you know why he splits his time between the two places?"

I think about this for a moment.  I had always assumed that he was just helping Savannah.  But she doesn't really need the help.  And why go there to help run the place and spend most of you time isolated in a shack?  My assumption is seriously flawed.  I shake my head.  "I really have no idea."

"Perhaps the answer to that question will clarify a few things.  What about the complex issues?" she asks.

"I don't know.  It's more of a feeling, but I think he is holding back.  I just don't know if it's because of my history or if there is a history of his own, than I'm not aware of."

"Have you asked him?"

"I've broached the subject a few times, he sort of drip feeds me information then clamps up.  I don't push him."

"What about you?  How are you dealing with this relationship?"

"What do you mean exactly?”  I ask her perplexed.

"Your relationship with Robert survived on careful diplomacy, avoidance in dealing with issues and tonnes of passive aggression on your part.  How are you coping this time?"

"It is completely different," I admit.  "When Robert flirted with women, I would reason with myself.  Flirting is harmless; it doesn't mean he is being unfaithful.  I had this fear that if I reacted, I might lose him - and where would I be if I discovered I had lost him over something innocent?"  I sigh, wrestling with my fingers.  "With Chayton I am so jealous.  It's ugly and intrusive and ..."

"And as long as there is good reason and it's not blown out of proportion – it's a good tool to keep communication open," Victoria finishes with a gentle grin.

"You're right.  I knew that!”  I smile.

"What else?"

"Well we had this fight.  No,
I
had this fight – he just had fun with it.  Chayton bought me an outfit.  The whole thing.  Dress, shoes, underwear; the works.  It was expensive and unnecessary and I exploded."

"That must have been fun, I'm sorry I missed it.  How did it turn out?"

"It was beautiful," I sigh.  "He wanted me to
feel
good.  He was right; I did."

"Ouch!  Hey next time you have drama like that – text me your location!" she teases.  "Will you let him buy you an outfit again?"

"I suppose.  He does have fantastic taste.  We went out, dined, danced and had fun,"
and then fucked each other senseless the rest of the night
.

"So what is scaring you?" she gazes at me looking worried.

"I don't know.  I am scared of where our relationship is going, what lies ahead.  Scared enough to make me reluctant to move forward," I frown.  "But living without him is not an option I want to deal with either.  I feel as though regardless of what direction I take – there is something ominous and dark waiting to smother me."

"So you've stepped out of your comfort zone and the door has been locked behind you.  It a big step for you, but long overdue, just take it slow, Acacia.  Don't look too far ahead.  From what I know of your handsome Mr. Donavan, he may need as much time as you to develop your relationship.  Give yourselves time and keep the lines
of conversation open.  Any news on the investigation?"

"No, nothing."

"So when is your man back?"

"Tonight, but really late, so I probably won't see him till tomorrow.
”  I sulk.

~.~

My dreams are particularly cruel tonight, teasing me and taunting me.  I missed Chayton's call thanks to a plumbing emergency and now in the depth of Lala Land, my mind has conjured him in glorious detail.  I can smell his summer sunshine scent, blanketing me.  I can feel his lips brushing across my face, his soft breath, fresh and minty.  I can feel his fingers stroking through my hair and an arm weighs me down by my waist.  I can even hear his breathing, slow and even.  Is there nowhere I can go to escape the painful reminders of our separation?

"Acacia."

"You're not real.  Go to hell!”  I mutter.  My torturer chuckles at me and his sweet minty breath flows over me again.  Something tugs at my consciousness, trying to get my attention and I wake, fluttering my eyelids open.  He's followed me from Lala Land into reality!  Isn't there some kind of written law against that? 

"You're here!
”  I whisper still disbelieving.  "You're real!"  I lift my hands to cup his face as he gazes down at me, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I take it you've missed me then," he says softly.

"Oh, you have no idea," I laugh in relief.  I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down to kiss.  It takes me all of three seconds to discover he is naked and ready.  Who am I to deny him?  I take full advantage.

~.~

28th June

The summer passes in a blur.  My largest enemy, I realise is myself.  I keep expecting the summer to end, and with it Chayton and my happiness.  I have become accustomed to Chayton's subtle changes in character between the Pass and the
City, but still don't understand it.  One of many things that have been bothering me of late.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replies.

"Why do you spend so much time at Donavan's Pass?"

He stiffens beneath me.  "You don't like it up there?"

"I love it up there! 
I am trying to understand that's all.  There is this huge contrast between here and there."

Silence and tension wash over him and I lift my head off his chest to assess his reaction.  "You don't have to tell me..."

"No," he says slowly.  "It's alright; it's just hard to explain.  When I was fifteen, my brother left to join the army.  It was not about doing service for his country or anything, it was just a way to escape from my father.  Savannah was in boarding school and spent most of her holidays on trips or with friends.  I was left alone."  His face creases as the memories are dragged up from where ever he stores them.

"My mother loved us.  She loved her husband too.  She believed he had an illness and as his
wife, her place was with him, through all the abuse, the degrading, the bullshit.  I couldn't watch him put her through it anymore.  Not on my own.  Not without them there for support.  So I ran away."

"Is that when you ended up with the kids on the street?"

"Yes."  He pauses.  "A few years later, the old man went onto the ice below the falls.  I was told he had been drunk and hallucinating, screaming like a lunatic.  My mother was trying to calm him down when he went through the ice.  She went in to try to save him.  We should have been there.  All of us.  We were selfish.  We left her, to cope alone."  The agony in his voice, tears at my heart.

"Chayton, it wasn't your responsibility.  It wasn't your fault."

"But it feels like it is," he says quietly.  "After they passed I went through a bad patch.  I was pretty much on self-destruct.  I had money by then.  Women, alcohol, anything I wanted was at my disposal.  I was powerful and felt indestructible.  It almost killed me.  Savannah and Morgan dragged me up the mountain eventually, and Morgan pretty much kept me prisoner in the cabin for a while.  It was my mother’s hiding place.  It was where she did her work, as an artist.  Where she escaped to.  I didn't know that.  I found her diary while I was there; it explained a lot."

"So, you go there to feel closer to her?
”  I venture.

"No.  I go there to keep perspective.  When you have everything, it sometimes helps spending a bit of time with nothing.  It's easy to get caught up in the power
; it's addictive.  The only things in control, up there in that little cabin, are spiritual forces and nature.  My mother knew that.  I had to learn that."

"If you had to choose between the two, which would it be?
”  I ask.

"It would be Buridan's Ass.
”  He says simply. 

"The paradox?"

"You're familiar with it?" he asks, eyes shining.

"Of course.  Buridan said if you put an ass exactly half way between water and food, if it was equally hungry as thirsty it would stay where it was and die, incapable of deciding which one it wanted more.  Although I think Aristotle voiced a similar thought a thousand years earlier," I muse, trying to remember my coursework.  "So you couldn't decide?"

"No, I've thought about it often.  I like the money and the power it gives me to help others far too much, but I need the grounding, peace, escape and perspective the mountain gives me."

"I get it," I grin broadly.

"You do?" he asks incredulously.  "I thought I was just nuts."

"Certifiable, Mr. Donavan.  Just like the rest of us."

He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug.  "After your SUBWAY, we can head up there for the weekend, if you want?"

"I'd love to," I grimace.  "When you let me breathe!"

"Do you think you could clear your calendar and make it a trip for the whole week?" he looks hopeful. 

"I'll check and let you know," I smile.

~.~

29th June

Our lovemaking has a different flavour this morning.  Tender and sweet.  I love the heart racing excitement, the slow and deliberate build, the teasing and anticipation, the experimenting, the breathless neediness and the explosive climaxing of our usual forays into expressing our desire for each other.

But this...this is something else, and I love this too.  I can feel the care in the tips of his fingers as they skate over my skin.  The wonder in the gentle warmth of his eyes, as he commits every inch of my body to memory, has me captivated.  I taste his tender reverence as he kisses me with a slow, loving caress of his lips and tongue.  My toes, my knees, my spine and fingers; no part of my body has escaped his attention. 

Chayton shifts and pulls me against him so we are spooning.  I almost purr as his teeth nip gently on my shoulder and one of his hands cup a breast, kneading it softly.  I shiver as his hand leaves my breast and strokes down my side, over my hip and along my thigh to my knee.  Holding my leg behind the knee, he pulls it up toward my chest.  He tucks his knee in behind mine and enters me slowly, the heat of his erection stretching and filling me and I groan in pleasure.  With the same agonising slowness, he withdraws to the entrance before filling me again.  This time I wrap a hand around his raised knee, pulling us tighter together, holding him in every way I can.  And holding and holding...

Only when his fingers find their way under my thigh to trace circles around my clitoris, do I let him move.  In and out, in and out. 
It is not a punishing rhythm; it is not strong or fast, racing to the finish.  It is loving, coaxing and incredible.  Like diving from the top of a waterfall, in slow motion, and taking the time to study prisms of vivid colour in the water droplets as they float through the air with you.