Читать книгу Reconnected - DH Steppler - Страница 10

It’s a good thing that we weren’t going anywhere because it took so long to do stuff and remain connected. Before we got up from our bed, Michael pulled me tight into him, kissed me on the pulse at my temple and ran his hands over my back, feeling the silk between him and my bare skin. I felt a sweet shiver as his fingers touched the skin under my pajamas. In response, I put my face on his chest and took his left nipple between my teeth as a warning; I applied only enough torque on my bite to send him into a frenzy. He tried to get his mouth on me to taste me and to pull at me. When I thought he was too aggressive, I squeezed my teeth together on that tender little nipple, his reaction swift and resolute. He was utterly still in anticipation. I made him wait in that state of expectation for a minute more than was probably necessary. While I held his nipple between my teeth, I slowly massaged it with the tip of my tongue. He was deep inside the experience and was writhing when I finally released his nipple from the grip of my teeth and suckled his breast tenderly to console him. He was consoled and nearly spent. He was, too easy.

Holy crap! Was that real? I was stunned by what I’d just done. How could I ever explain that?

I had to get away from him before I did something I used to enjoy doing with my husband in the mornings. My head was so muddled that I could only thank my small bladder for getting me out of bed.

On the side of the bed I sat looking at Michael. He had his hand under my pajamas and flat on my back; his fingers were open to their fullest extension and each finger gripped my skin in a leisurely kneading action – again not unpleasant. My plan to ease out of our connection and then run to the bathroom was looking a bit dim. For a moment, I allowed myself the enjoyment of his foreplay. It was no picnic to willingly take myself away from those sensations. Suddenly, I knew that that moment, when he was so preoccupied with his “inevitable satisfaction” was the single best time to get to the bathroom before he caught me.

I twisted around on the chaise, as though I were jockeying for a better position, which I was – I really should have thought that through a bit better because when I turned my body, Michael’s hand was still under my pajama top and now his hand, under my pajama top was spread across my right breast with the continued kneading action. Not to sound like a broken record but that, too, was not unpleasant. I was honestly trying to get away from him so that I could take care of some woman stuff.

Our sighs were deep and ready. Michael was fully involved when I disengaged and flew off the lounge, through the slider, past the stateroom, and into the bathroom – Christ, I was super fuckin’ woman. I slammed the door and locked it. I stripped and jumped into the shower, not waiting for the water to get hot. I washed my hair with the cruise line shampoo, shaved my legs and underarms and dried off in less than ten minutes. As I dried, I heard Michael outside the door; when I touched the door, contact was made. That move, I told myself was more for Michael than it was for me. But as if to call me a liar to my face the current surged into my muscles and I needed to lean on the sink for support as my legs were on the verge of buckling. The waves continued to surge and continued to distract me.

Ever so quietly, somewhere in the deep hidden part of my brain I saw that something was out of place, a hint, a fright, and the build of adrenaline without my knowing why.

“Michael,” I whispered in a voice just barely conscious and rough with inexplicable fear.

“Michael, are you alright?”

I heard him pull in a deep quivering jagged breath.

“Please…, please finish quickly.”

“Michael, put your back to the door, lean your whole body into the door.” I listen with my forehead touching the wall between us. My own body tingling from the connection, I had to struggle to keep my senses. I whispered through the barrier.

“Michael, talk to me, please.”

Then, without warning our duo sighs, deep and controlled brought us confidence and a measure of hope that we lost sight of. His voice was stronger but still shaken. “I’m better… I’m better, but please hurry.”

“I will.” I assured him. I didn’t lie either. I was stepping into my panties before his words reached my ears and buttoning my shorts before he took another breath.

“Tell me about what it felt like when I left you on the lounge?”

I requested in a clinical voice – research and to redirect his focus. I needed to gather as many details as possible about that event and mentally record everything. I listened but heard nothing, nothing for too long.

“Michael, please talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

I waited. I knew he was there because I felt our connection, it was strong, domineering. He would talk.

I concentrated on being thorough and fast. The mirror showed me evidence of changes I was unaware of. My face and neck had a tan glow; the sun’s effect on me was a compliment. I smiled at myself in the mirror; dusted my face, applied lip gloss, a sprits of “Amazing Grace,” grabbed my hairbrush and whispered through the door.

“I’m coming.”

He pulled, I pushed. The door opened. I stepped out of the bathroom and Michael stepped into me. We embraced a secure hug. It was so good; we both felt the intense rush. We were grateful to be back together.

“God woman, you smell so good.” He trembled.

“Be here for me, I won’t be long.”

I reminded him that I was in it, too? The condition, what ever it was, it was a shared affliction. Didn’t he feel my depletion and renewal like I did his? Yeah, we would talk, he would talk.

I thought of a possible way for me to cope with the loss of the connection, temporarily.

“Wait, come here a sec.”

I pulled him by the arm from the small dressing room out to his balcony to get my book.

“I want to see something – a distraction, maybe.”

On our way back to the bathroom, Michael called room service, and ordered breakfast for two, collected a chair for me to sit on while I waited. See how he can take the lead.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter to me at all. I’m not shy; modesty isn’t big on my list. I don’t care if you see me; I prefer that you see me over the door and proximity thing.”

Jump back Jack, did that sound like desperation?

“Michael, we need to add this to our research. Focus on what you are doing and only disconnect from the door while you are in the shower. Hurry”

While Michael was in the bathroom I kept constant contact with the door. When he stepped into the shower, I felt the current change, become distant. I figured he had disconnected but there was still way back there the faint shadow of the connect that I could draw from. I registered the tiny discovery and took a mental snapshot of the idea to ponder over at another time.

Trying to get involved in Michael Creighton’s intrigue didn’t work for me. I put the book down and picked up my hair brush. As I dried my hair with my brush and my fingers, I thought about the reconnect, its immediate effect on both of us as opposed to the disconnect and the slow rise to chaos. Think of the devil…the weakness started somewhere deep and as soon as I recognized what was happening, I stood and pressed my whole body to the door, tears stung my eyes. I forced myself to listen and match his breathing.

“I’m coming.”

I heard his voice from inside. He pushed and I pulled. The door opened. I could tell that he had to interrupt his routine but he was wearing shorts. That’s all I could see before his arms surrounded me. My own arms automatically encircled his waist. We held our bodies close and coordinated our breathing and sighed with relief as the reconnection made things right again.

Infused with gratitude and appreciation we prolonged the embrace and ignited a fuse of desire, passion, pure physical need and the uncontrollable urge to get closer – the reconnect got more and more intense after that point rendering us completely incapable of ignoring the urges.

We were saved by the knock on the stateroom door “Room Service.” We jumped away from each other but held hidden hands to keep our connection. We were letting ourselves get carried away and not from need but just because it felt so good - desire. I was already chastising myself for letting the reconnect go so far.

That’s the second time that we would have completed the connection, the deepest connection, if not interrupted and forced to separate.

My head started to clear. So, if we just allow the reconnect to happen and then a quick change to the pinkie before the reconnect goes too far. The trick will be to know when the reconnect has gone too far before it had gone too far.

I went to the door with Michael right behind me to let the wait staff in. He was in a daze and just stumbled along in my tow. He wasn’t coming out of it very well – he was being lead by his desire. Lordy, I hated to interrupt that. Obviously, it would be up to me to put a stop to letting ourselves get that carried away again. I didn’t want to be that person; I’d like to throw stones at that person. I wanted to be the person who allows it all, who explores passion and brakes down boundaries. It’s my luck, to have the chore of putting the kibosh on something miraculous and sweet. It’s my luck to go against human nature, to put out the fire before any of its glory is seen or felt. Good grief I’m a fuckin’ killjoy.

While breakfast was set up on the balcony, Michael and I stood at the rail, coordinating our breathing and holding hands; we were lost in the expanse of the ocean. I barely noticed it when Michael tipped the waiter and led me to the table. We sat down to a hearty meal. Eating with one hand was difficult and slow but we helped each other and we weren’t in a hurry. We were grateful for each other and found it challenging but very satisfying to operate as one person. We listened to Percy Faith and laughed at our clumsiness’. We didn’t speak much while we ate. We mostly concentrated on using each other’s hand; it took more focus than you would think.

For many long minutes after we were finished with the repast we were absorbed into the air around us, the clean fresh scent, the balanced pressure and heat from the sun kissing our skin both nurturing and warning. We sat in the sun with our faces to the sky, eyes closed; pinkies hooked, and breathed in unison. Our contentment was so complete that every dozen or so breaths were sighs, sighs of complete satisfaction, those too were synchronized.

“Michael,” I interrupted the silence.

“Hum?”

“Would now be a good time to examine our research? There are questions that could give us direction and help focus our experiments.” I let it just sit in the air while I waited for him to answer.

Time didn’t matter and silence was ok. I could feel the word in the air, in all that silence, the word sat in the air slowly taking purchase in his consciousness…

“Experiments?”

His voice was a combination of intrigue and fear.

“Yes, some basic stuff to start and then some tailored experiments as our information grows.”

“What do you mean?” He said, starting to move.

I kept a tight hold on his hand to keep him from rising. It didn’t take much; he settled right back into a lounge position.

“Relax, don’t move, and close your eyes. Answer yes or no to these questions: Are you comfortable?

“Yes.”

“Can you feel my hand on yours?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

I turned his hand over so that our hands were palm to palm, his was on the bottom. I lifted my palm but kept all five digits touching his.

“Did you feel any change in the connection right then?”

“No.”

I lowered my palm down until it touched his palm; you know, the “hand kiss” and asked, “Change?”

“D’you mean, did it feel good, it did.”

“What I mean by change is did your heart rate increase; did your breathing become labored; did you feel any anxiety?”

“Oh, no.”

Next, I moved my fingers up and away from his hand while maintaining contact with the palm of my hand.

“Change?”

“No,”

I laid my four fingers across his palm and stroked his hand from palm to finger tip, lifting my fingers at each new stroke. “Change?”

“Yes, my Johnson jumped.” He chuckled.

I turned his hand over so that my finger tips were touching his knuckles. The pressure was so light, it could barely be felt. My finger tips visited every knuckle, slowly, deliberately. “Well?” I prompted.

“Same as before.” He said.

“What do you mean the same as before?” I asked.

“You know the Johnson thing.”

Ok, another line of questioning then. No more movement with the connection, no more rubbing, patting, stroking. The movement seemed to bring on a sexual response.

With minimum cooperation from Michael, I felt we were making some progress towards understanding.

I methodically measured his tolerance for distance and the connection. I raised my entire hand up off of his by barely a breath. “Anything?”

“Yes.” He said. He opened his eyes and looked at me. “My heart skipped a beat. It was nothing, I’m fine…I’m just reporting.”

I moved my hand to about an inch away from his.

“My heart skipped a beat again. I’m fine, I think.”

I moved my hand farther away from his in increments and at each change we gauged the effect. The result was exactly the same, skipping a heart beat until we reached the two foot mark. Michael looked at me like I had punched him in the gut and he doubled over. I immediately grabbed his hand for the reconnect. The relief was instant and appreciated. Michael pulled me onto his lap and cuddled me a bit. It was really nice but I was on the alert not to let the reconnect get carried away.

I pulled myself from his embrace but held onto his hand. He had a puzzled and disappointed look in his eyes.

“Michael, when we are that close, I can’t think. Haven’t you noticed that I babble gibberish until there is space between us?”

I needed my wits about me to figure out what was going on.

“I think you’re doing great. How do you know what to ask and how do you know what any of it means? What kind of work do you do?” Michael gushed.

“For heaven sake, I’m just making it up as I go along. This isn’t my work. I just have a very results oriented mind. Plus, I think we can figure this out if we try.”

“All those little basic questions I was asking you, I had to answer also. My answers were not always the same as yours. We were exactly the same, however, in our response to the total disconnect, panic, pain, fear, weakness, disorientation. We both have a greater need for closer access to get a stronger connection. We were also the same in our response to the reconnect, instant relief, satisfaction, comforting completeness, peace, balance, virile, sexy, gratitude.”

Support until the reconnect or contact through a solid object, my tolerance for connecting through the door was much higher; proximity – no conclusions could be drawn with the amount of information ascertained at that time – more experiments would come – my clinical side.

I was tired of experimenting and was beginning to wonder about my sister.

“Michael, do you know what time it is?” I asked, while I made a promise to myself to find my watch.

He looked at the sky and the position of the sun and said, “I’d say 10:15. Do you have to be somewhere?”

“No, I was just thinking of Denice. She is a creature of habit and schedules.”

The phone rang. Michael moved to answer it gripping my hand firmly all the way. It was Denice. “Ok.” And then he hung up.

“It’s your sister. She’s coming over.”

We went back to the balcony just as she was coming through our shared door. She carried our Patters with her, all smiles. She handed over my copy, plopped down in the third chair, and began reading the activities for the day without saying a word. I watched her as she pondered the newsletter, all very serious. I hadn’t seen her much and was delighted to see that she was wearing the coral necklace I made her from beads we purchased in Hawaii the first time we visited. I noticed that the clasp was twisted and also noticed that she was sporting a not very well hidden hickey.

Michael squeezed my hand to get my silent attention. He nodded to the Patter in my hand. So as not to be rude to my sister, we read the Patter dutifully to see if anything caught our interest. There was nothing at all going on that either of us wanted to get involved in. In actuality, we were resigned to stay in the cabins and on the balconies. What else could we do?

Denice finally looked up at us to indicate that she was finished with making her selections. I could see that she had highlighted several items. She planned to be quite busy for the day.

“I’m still only interested in staying on the balcony.” I waited for her response.

“I’d like to spend some time with you but it can’t be today, I have quite a schedule for myself and Manny. We’re spending the day together and I probably won’t see you again until just before dinner, and then only for a minute. We have dinner plans at Sabatini’s again and then dancing at the Wheel House Bar.”

“I’m glad you are having so much fun. When things slow down for you, you can join us for peace and relaxation right here on the balcony.”

I laughed because I knew she couldn’t sit still for very long.

She didn’t stay long. She left with a “thank you for being so understanding about Manny and all.” We watched her slip back over to our balcony and then she was gone and we were alone again.

We just sat and let the quiet surround us. Our eyes met, we both smiled but stayed in our own personal reverie. Michael put music in the player – Herb Alpert – I guess he didn’t want to hear me sing.

While we listened, I started organizing the research that we gathered earlier. Turning each discovery over and over in my mind but still not making any sense of it. I did wonder if Michael was doing the same.

“Michael, I’m thinking about the experiments we did today. We have a ways to go to figure it all out. There are many more questions and experiments to develop.”

I waited a second and lowered my voice before I continued.

“I really need you to tell me what happened to you when I left you on the lounge this morning and you came to the bathroom door. Can you tell me now before the information gets lost or tainted…I think it could be valuable information for our research?”

The ball was in his court and I was waiting for his return volley. Maybe he was trying to figure something, so, I just sat there while he took his time.

When Michael started to talk, his voice was barely above a whisper and he even leaned in a bit to make sure I could hear and others could not.

“I was pretty well pissed off at you for getting me all worked up and then yanking it out from under me. My ardor faded very quickly but not fast enough to beat the pain of the disconnection. It was as though the disconnect froze my Johnson when it was still erect. The combination was excruciating. It took me awhile to get to where you were – I could hardly walk and my vision was blurry. I was mad at you but I needed you to reconnect; I needed and wanted you more than I’ve ever needed or wanted anything in my entire life. It was the most powerful physical experience I’ve ever had.”

“Hearing your voice on the other side of the door was like manna from Heaven. You told me to put my back to the door and lean my whole body into it. I did and I suddenly loved you. I felt the reconnect but I was still physically in need of you. I remember hoping that you were all right.”

“Helen, I was actually seeing stars – you know, like in the cartoons but it wasn’t funny. I was sick and disoriented and weak. All I could do was focus on touching you, think about touching you, and dream about loving you because you could cure me. I was thinking of all the ways I could show you how grateful I am that you could fix things. I thought ‘Helen is what I need’.” He was on a roll.

“You helped me by talking to me but there was no way I could carry on a conversation. I was lucky to get the words out that I did. To cope, I closed my eyes and leaned on the door and absorbed as much of the reconnect as I possibly could. I needed more, so I waited for you.”

“I’m not sure that all this research is going to help. I’ve decided what we need, well, what I need.” And then he stopped talking.

I knew what he meant but I was not about to be manipulated even if I would love to go where he was. Maybe making a complete connection would be a permanent fix. It would only be if all else failed, our last effort.

“Michael, we only have nine and a half days left to figure this out. We need to be as objective as we can.”

Then to soothe his ego, I continued.

“It would be so sweet for me to spend the next eleven days enjoying your love making. You have a scent that is unique to any other. You smell like musk and wild honeysuckle and it really is a big turn on. When you breathe on my neck, I have to steady myself for fear I’ll faint. Don’t for one minute think that I don’t want you. Because I do, I want you so much that my resistance is getting very weak. But, please understand that I try hard to live a principled life. I am a slave to my own beliefs.”

A pout still traced his lips as he managed to smile at me. We held each other’s gaze for a minute and then he questioned.

“How long is this cruise anyway?”

“15 days, we used 4 days and there are 11 days left.”

“Helen, I’m not taking the whole cruise. I get off the ship in Honolulu and will fly to Australia from there.”

The news that he would be leaving the ship early hit me like an earth quake that was accompanied by fear.

“Do you know when we’ll get to Honolulu?” I asked.

“It’s the second or third port of call.”

“Well, which is it, second or third?”

“Not sure, I’ll look the next time I’m in the stateroom.” He said.

I stood up and offered him an assist up from his lounge.

“Let’s take care of some business, not the least is me going to pee and you finding the exact day and time you will be leaving the ship.”

I pulled him up. He automatically wrapped his arms around me and I hugged him back before I started pulling him into the stateroom.

“Pee first,” I said.

He followed reluctantly. We were pensive; we knew this would be an ordeal. I wanted to talk to him, to soothe him again but I was too wrapped up on my own fear to give much credence to his.

“I’ll be very fast; let’s see if we can get through this more smoothly; please keep the contact with the door and I’ll do the same. We’ll talk about it as soon as we can after.”

He just squeezed my hand.

Opened the door, gave him a quick glance, and was closing it and trying to get my pants down at the same time. It wasn’t easy keeping the contact with the door but I did. I felt the connection through the door. Peed, washed my hands and forehead to the door I said, “I’m coming.”

He pulled, I pushed, the door opened. When I stepped out, not wasting a second, Michael wrapped his arms around my waist and put his face in the crook of my neck. I responded at the anticipation of his breath on my skin. My hands went to his head and hair. I felt him kiss my collar bone. I’m not sure but I think I began to float. We sighed. I could hear something, something almost inaudible, way back in the distance. I listened; I concentrated and listened some more; oh, it was my own voice but it was a tiny voice, saying: wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Immediately I searched for the pinkie and our old fashioned hook up. It was easier than I thought to grab his hand and I spun away from his embrace. As I came around full circle, I saw his eyes they were smoldering and blazing with the pain of betrayal.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” I said as I pulled him to me.

“Only when you’re ready.”

We encased our bodies within each other’s arms. We satiated our need for the reconnect. We expressed our love for the existence of the ying and the yang. We were the only ones who could summon the relief – one for the other. We stood motionless in an extremely tight cuddle and sighed deeply.

Michael took my hand and we walked to the desk to look at the ships itinerary. We were both looking at it, but Michael was waiting for me to explain it to him. Sorry Michael I was a bit slow and didn’t understand what I was seeing; it took me more than a minute to figure it out.

“Oh, this is scary. You’ll be leaving in 5 days. We only have 5 days.”

I leaned against him and heard his breathing, deep and slow, like mine and snaked my free hand around his waist trying to pull him to me when I felt him yield and then get involved. As we snuggled close the fear was gone, the worry was gone, and the pain was gone. Our human bundle stood; the only movement was our steady breathing.

When the experience began to overwhelm me, I could hear that tiny little voice in the distance trying to get my attention and it took almost no effort at all to ignore it. I let myself glide on a carpet of sensual feelings. Michael gripped me around my shoulders and squeezed very tight. At that time I didn’t recognize what he was doing but he was closing off the opportunity to move. Movement brought on a sexual response. We stood like statues again until Michael took my hand.

“Let’s take this to the balcony and figure it out.”

Michael’s voice was husky but under control – way better control than I had. I was ready to take it to the next level once I kicked the nagging voice to the side.

As we walked hand in hand to the balcony our breathing synchronized and the calm came back. I smiled at him and was impressed with his self-control – the shoe was on the other foot. I was hoping that he would explain how he took control. It may be a key to fixing our odd connection.

We sat reclined in the lounge chairs on the balcony, Michael’s hand positioned atop mine on the arm rest. It was more comfortable than hooking pinkies.

“Ok,” he started.

“We’ve got 5 days to figure this out. What we know so far: We need to be connected; movement is sensual and must be avoided; we can stop the sensual feelings by holding on tight and not moving; space between us is good as long as we have a connection; we can feel the connection through walls and doors; the disconnect brings on fear, panic, and sickness; the reconnect and the gratitude brings on sensual feelings that can barely be stopped; dancing causes a loss of speech but coordination seems to be the gift.”

“What I see from this is that we need to find some way to get rid of the need for connection. My theory is that we will need the connection until we complete it finally, and you know what I’m talking about.”

To hear him talk was a relief. I was grateful that he understood as much as he did and thought the way he put it all together was clear and concise. I wasn’t as happy about where his conclusion went.

There was a thought formulating in my head – a way to get him through the disconnect – maybe the ‘kiss back’ could save him from being connected to me forever. I wasn’t sure if the ‘kiss back’ would do anything to alleviate my need for the connection. I knew that I would do whatever it took to make it right for him. The ‘kiss back’ like, the complete connection, would be a last resort option.

Now Michael had his idea – that we should let the gratitude take us all the way. I’d a theory that the ‘kiss back’ may remove the need for a connect for Michael but not sure what it would do concerning me.

“Michael, I am working on a theory that may help you accept a final disconnect. I’m not going to talk about it right now because it is a ‘last resort’ kind of deal.”

I knew he’d be curious and I didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Your suggestion of taking our gratitude to the ultimate connection could have the opposite effect, you know. So can we hold off on that until the very end?”

“Are you thinking of more experiments?” He asked with a little half grin.

“Maybe instead of experiments, we need to ascertain just what the connection is to us physically as opposed to mentally or emotionally.”

While I was talking I realized that when we were very connected – grateful – we didn’t talk. I don’t think I could talk.

“That sounds scientific; how do we go about doing that?”

He carried a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“I’m not really sure, but I think talking about what is happening to us physically during a connect, a disconnect, and a reconnect will give us more and different information to add to what we’ve got.”

“So, what we’ve got here is a connect.”

He indicated by patting my hand.

“Right.”

“Well, physically my breathing is relaxed, slow and deep, matching yours. I have control over my faculties, that is to say that I have control over my thinking – though the expanse of topics seems greater than ever - and over my internal organs like my bladder. I’m not moving but I’m pretty sure I have control of all of my physical functions, maybe even enhanced control.”

Something flickered in his soft gray eyes. And then more to him than to me, he pondered.

“I wonder what effect this connect could have on our creative sides.”

Our ‘creative sides’ were something to look at later if he didn’t pursue.

Michael looked at me and smiled a slow sweet smile.

“We’re hashing out the same information over and over again just flipped up and turned every way you can think of. It’s like you need to see things in 3D to figure them out. I can see that we have differing opinions as to how to get to the bottom of this – no pun intended.” He laughed at his own joke.

“Since you are not telling me what you have up your sleeve, I’ve got nothing to compare my conclusion with. So, can we table this conversation for a bit and have lunch?”

“Not to be too pushy but can we talk this whole process through as we are doing it? We’re about to change things and I get just a bit anxious for a possible disconnect.”

I tried to keep the panic out of my voice while expressing my need to understand.

Michael took my hand in his and we stood.

“No change.” Michael reported.

We held our hands out so that we could maneuver around the furniture.

“No change.” Michael started to sing.

“No change, no change, no change…,” sounding a bit like The Little Engine That Could.

I laughed. We practically danced into the stateroom to order lunch. When he picked up our well worn menu, he finished his little rendition with a long and powerful lung, collapsing note. It was so unbelievably sweet that I wanted, no needed to hear it again.

“Can you do that again?” I asked.

He looked at me, smiled and took in a deep breath and sang the last word, holding the last note until there was no air left to manipulate.

“Wow!” The hair on the back of my neck was standing as was the hair on my arms; I wanted to cry from pure pleasure.

“I wonder if this means anything – When you did that and right now gratitude begs me to make my appreciation known, and for me, I want to touch your face and take a handful of your hair and force your mouth on mine. The sound of your voice made me feel corporeal.”

“That’s new.”

We added that information to our combined knowledge.

“Singing that note took almost no effort. When I did it, I wondered what would happen if I put some power behind it – you know, around the edges of the creative process.” Another smile.

“Can you hold that thought until this gratitude passes, please?” I asked; we both froze.

Michael ordered lunch as I pointed to suggestions from the menu. In the thirty minutes before lunch arrived, we set up the balcony to receive the table settings, after a bit of a battle we packed an après lunch bowl.

I grabbed my Pinky and looked about to find a place to prepare a bowl besides the table. I saw a flat surface and straddled the lounge and put my preparations in front of me. Michael was uncomfortable with our hold on the connection so he straddled the lounge right behind me. I was very leery of that move and tried to turn around so that he was not cradling my back. Michael held me in place with his arms around my waist. The more I moved to change the position the more the connection played with my nerves.

With his arms tight around me, he held me in place and whispered in my ear.

“Helen, be still please.”

I caught the note in his voice and froze in place.

“Room service will be here soon and I’d rather not be erect when they arrive.”

From what I could feel, it was too late.

“Sorry,” I said and focused on packing the bowl with my fluffy grindings.

Michael rested his head on my shoulder. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of me without thinking what it would do to his self control and resolve. He took in huge gulps of air and then he froze holding me as tight as I’ve ever been held in my life.

We had lunch in relative silence. I was tired from the whole connection thing and just wanted to stare at the ocean and listen to music. Lucky for me, Michael was amenable to that.

After about 20 minutes at the rail, I yawned a few times and Michael suggested that we have a nap. Before that could happen we needed to take another trip to the bathroom. We were very cautious about keeping the connection even when we switched places. We had to hold on pretty tight for the reconnect but were able to avoid getting carried away with the sensual stuff.

I took the slider side and Michael took the other. We hooked up and slept for a couple of sleep cycles, about 3 hours. When I woke, Michael’s head was in my lap and I was absent mindedly stroking his temple and brushing his hair back with my finger tips. He woke up with a smile on his face. We stayed hooked and connected talking lazily for another hour. We watched a bit of the ships TV to see what was going on in Denice’s world. It had no draw for either one of us.

When we were tired of being inside the cabin, we made our way to the balcony and watched the colors of the sunset play on the expanse of the great Pacific. We wouldn’t see land for two days when we docked in Hilo on the big island of Hawaii.

“Michael,” I broke the silence.

“I know that you’ve traveled all over the world but have you spent much time on any of the islands?”

“No.”

“Have you thought of getting off the ship for a day adventure? You will be aboard for all 4 ports of call.”

He just listened.

“Maybe there’s something that interests you enough to leave the balcony. I just want to let you know that I’ll do what I can to make it work for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Are you hungry for dinner?” he added.

“I’m really not very hungry, but I could eat; maybe I’ll just have a salad tonight. Yeah, a salad and jello.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

He pulled me along with him as he went to order dinner. After the call, he retrieved a bottle of white wine from the ice box, worked the cork, cleaned off the top, took a long drink straight from the bottle, and then handed it to me. I followed suit and took my turn at the wine. It felt so bohemian and sexy – my lips touching the very place where his lips had just been. It’s the little things and I appreciated that moment and locked it away to be looked at with loving scrutiny and remembered down to the very second.

“I Want to Stop and Thank You Baby” was playing quietly in the background. I reached around Michael and turned up the volume. I was feeling all of the days pent up gratitude and needed a release. I just sucked it up and took my turn at the wine.

With the thought that Michael would leave in four and a half days, I could feel myself slipping away into a funk. My little distant voice was trying to get my attention – through the haze of invading sadness. It’s unlike me to give up and sink into a pity wallow. Fear gripped me and the stress of it kept me tied up in a knot and I could barely hear the warning my little voice was giving me, ‘Don’t miss the good stuff because of some thing you can’t control – Don’t ruin the time you have left with him.’

“Help me, Michael.” I said more to myself than to him.

“I’m stressed with the thought of your final disconnect. Please tell me that every thing will be fine. Please tell me that we’ll work this out.”

Michael put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him, looked in my eyes, and said, “We’ll work this out; it’s gonna be fine.”

Then he pulled me close and whispered in my ear.

“We’ll work this out; it’s gonna be fine.”

We held each other close for a minute without moving. Then Michael steered me to the lounge chairs. Once seated, he chose some more music.

“Let’s defer the work required until tomorrow and just enjoy the rest of today just being together. Does that sound ok to you?”

My eyes welled up. How did he know to say that exact right thing? It was as though he were that little voice in my head warning me of the road to depression. The balance and peace returned like a gift as we sat listening to the music. I wasn’t sure how long the ebb in my stress would last but I decided to listen to my little voice and to Michael. So, I tuned in to every vibration, scent, and sound the Pacific air had to offer.

Room service brought our dinner and served our salads in less than 2 minutes. When the waiters left I said to Michael, “I need to freshen up before I eat, how about you?”

“Sounds good, I’ll follow you.”

As I moved in front of him, he said, “It’s a good view.”

I smiled but gave no other response. The anticipation of the disconnect was dreadful; I knew Michael felt it too – he squeezed my hand and placed his other hand on my hip. We both sighed deeply. I turned to look at him before I opened the door. Michael quickly stepped between me and the bathroom entrance.

“What exactly do you have to do in there?” He nodded towards the inside.

“Well, let’s see, I need to brush my teeth, use the toilet, and wash my hands… maybe run a comb through my hair.”

“Same stuff as me.” Our eyes still locked. He continued.

“Most of that we can do at the same time together, anyway. Can we not disconnect until absolutely necessary?”

His eyes told me that it wasn’t something he wanted to argue about. There was no argument as we squeezed into the little room to handle our business in tandem. It wasn’t difficult to maintain the connection within the small space. We brushed our teeth with our arms hooked, awkward and messy but the clean up was a snap. We washed each other’s hands and the connection richly rewarded us with a physical glow that took our breath away and our unison gasps for air brought us each the alluring scent of the other.

In the mirror, looking at the two of us my eyes were drawn to Michael and Michael alone. His eyes lowered, his lashes rested on his cheeks and his mouth was nearly a straight line in his face while he concentrated on the job of washing our hands without my help.

“Wow!” I thought, “This moment is ours.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw in the mirror my own smile, a pleased little content smile. But my real focus never left Michael’s tender nurturing face. When he looked up to find me staring at him like he was delicious, I didn’t care. I continued my admiration as he revealed his eyes to me. He stood there looking at me and allowing me to satisfy my need to swim in his warm gray eyes. I made a mental note to notice if the connect makes them just a bit softer in color, more like a dove gray and smooth. I’d seen his eyes smolder in fear and pain, they were nearly charcoal in color.

I glanced at my own eyes – then back to his - then back to mine again – then I tried to isolate only our eyes to look at them together.

Michael watching quietly the whole time said, “It’s the color, our eyes are the exact same color.”

I said, “Yeah dove gray.”

“Don’t leave out the black ring around the iris, it’s also a match.”

Adding. “What else will change about us in order for us to match?”

“Well since I got your eyes, you’ll probably get my boobs.”

We both laughed.

The ‘through the door thing’ went fairly smoothly for me. I was quick like I always am, washed my hands, alone this time, grabbed my lotion and placed my head on the door and said, “I’m coming.”

As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, we were like Velcro, stuck and immobile, and not unpleasant in the least.

The disconnect for Michael’s turn in the bathroom needed more time, that took a greater toll on the connection made fragile and suspect through the door. How odd I thought, I can feel his anxiety through the door. Though the connection was week, I tried to send him my strength and resolve and, of course, love – as much as I could possibly transfer through the closed door.

When I finally heard his “I’m coming,” I stepped back but kept my contact with the door. He came out with a towel and a comb and managed to get me in a mighty bear hug in just one move. Gratitude oozed from both of us; the need to manifest that deeply indebted gratefulness into action was utterly desirable and nearly a necessity. That gratitude though was like an itch that could be scratched involuntarily which would set off more gratitude and more acts of appreciation and so on and so on.

Our stomachs growled in unison, and why not? We both heard it and felt it. We laughed. With seriousness we held each other tightly and again held completely still, waited for the balance, took each other’s hands, and went to dinner.

The deal was to relax and enjoy each other’s company and then the next day, our last full day at sea together, we’d think about the predicament more.

Michael chose another CD for the player, pushed play and we turned to our salads and the challenge of eating with one hand. We found that feeding each other bites was fun and as easy as feeding ourselves. Mid way through our meal, Michael remembered the bottle of wine in the fridge. We took a short and uneventful trip to get it.

Back at our table ‘under the stars,’ they were just becoming visible in the evening sky, we toasted the deck, the connect, and the sunset and a hearty, “Cheers, thanks a lot, eh.”