The Jewel Box (11 page)

Gabriel pulled his T-shirt over his head, dropped it on the floor, and looked down at me. “I’m going to savor every inch of your body,” he said almost inaudibly. Then he slipped out of his jeans and white briefs, revealing an incredibly muscular physique. This was my third sexual partner, yet the first man whose body I allowed my eyes to slowly gaze up and down, memorizing every inch. Gabriel’s V-shaped torso reflected his years of physical work, his arms and legs were sleek and sinewy, his chest almost hairless, and his belly taut. “As soon as I take a shower.” he said.

My body was still shaking when he climbed back onto the bed. His hand trembled so much when he touched my cheek, I joked about him having one of those illnesses that affect voluntary motor functions. I touched
his hard edged muscles as he smothered me with kisses and wrapped his arms around me, melting into my body. With Aretha crooning
Natural Woman
in the background, I surprised myself by how greedily I accepted him, pulling him closer inside as quiet echoes of “Cherie” rolled from his lips. A certain sense of destiny spiraled through my mind as I drifted into Aristophanes mythical speech from Plato’s
Symposium
. I had found my missing link.

“Your heart’s beating like crazy. . . Or is that mine?” He gently stroked my hair. “This feels like an illusion. An out-of-control, wonderful fantasy, spilling over into reality. I want it to be and I don’t want it to be,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes searching mine.

He couldn’t shut up and I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. This man had perfectly connected all the wires to my home entertainment unit. I had been untouched until now. And what do I do during my first orgasm? I burst into giggles. They began softly, and grew louder until I was giggling uncontrollably. What had he done to my central nervous system? Gabriel’s eyes questioned my reaction as I broke into tears, then he wrapped his arms around me. “Ooooh girl, what have you done to me?”

“Whoooa,” I said in shaky voice. “What have you done to me? Here I am, the mother of a three-year-old, feeling like I finally lost my virginity. And where did those giggles come from? How embarrassing.”

“Yeah, for a split-second I thought you were letting me know I’m hysterically funny in the sack.”

“Well, funny ain’t exactly the word for it.”

“Look out Blondie, you’re startin’ to talk like me.”

We lay silently together for a few minutes, sharing soft kisses. “I need a smoke.” He climbed out of bed and walked into the living room. Tactfully leaving the scene, I presumed. But he returned and set his ashtray on the ever-so-gaudy Spanish nightstand before climbing back into bed. Lying together, we chatted about Nixon, Vietnam, flower power, and even Earth Day. But when he attempted to talk economics, I cringed. “That’s a guy thing, like politics. So pleeease keep those discussions between men friends. Do you read mythology, specifically Plato’s
Symposium
in which Aristophanes explains the origin of love?”

“Now that legendary ‘Split-apart’ crap truly is a girl thing—like tampons and douches.”

Exhausted and totally satiated as he lightly stroked my arm, I fell into a sound sleep. Hours later he started kissing the back of my neck, which I presumed were departure kisses. Once again I presumed wrong. Round two went even longer, and he caressed my worn-out body as we drifted to sleep for a couple of hours.

Round three.
Really?
No mistaking that nudge. But just as every pore of my body began blending with every pore of his, Gabriel mumbled, “God, this isn’t right. . . No, I can’t. . . Please God, don’t allow this.”

Took the snap out of my garters. I swallowed back tears, realizing this Catholic man was regretting his actions. Then he softly whispered, “Cherie, I love you. It isn’t right and I shouldn’t, but God help me I do.”

I couldn’t respond as he pulled me into his arms and began softly snoring. I slept an hour.

Awakened by the softness of his lips on the back of my neck, I realized the night hadn’t been some bizarre, incredible dream, and then the tightness of his arms around me confirmed it. A dream? Even my overactive imagination couldn’t have conjured a dream of this magnitude. Besides, my thighs and lower body were weak as I rolled over to face him.

“This is right,” he said softly.

“I know Gabriel,” I assured him, trying to shove those sneaky guilt feelings my mother had so skillfully planted, to the back of my head.

At sunrise Gabriel slid from bed, showered, and kissed me goodbye. I didn’t know where he was going, but knew he’d be back.

“Wanna do lunch before taking me for my car?” I asked Kat when she arrived.

Her normal grin went ear to ear as she walked inside my apartment. “I knew it! I knew it!” she trumpeted. “I saw the looks between you two and watched Gabe’s attitude change almost overnight. He actually seemed compassionate. Well, I guess with you he was more like passionate.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve got the look, cutie.”

“Well, unless I was having convulsions last night, I finally know what the big O is all about. Plus I learned simultaneous orgasms don’t just
happen, they’re brought on by thoughtful men who hold back until you’re ready for glorious uncontrollable body spasms that leave you tingling for hours. So to speak.” I shivered.

“I’m just happy you finally had an orgasm.”

“You’re happy? Before Gabriel, I never knew what the word meant.”

“So. . .” Kat fluttered her eyelashes. “Gabe the asshole was great in bed?”

“Oh pleeeease. Even if I never see him again, he’s being listed in my will. Let’s get going and I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

After a quick lunch filled with every juicy detail, we arrived for Nikki, but she pleaded to spend a few more days with Cousin Jimmy. I usually felt rejected when Nikki chose to stay apart from me, but today I handled it well, kissing her about a zillion times before leaving.

Around six in the evening I heard a knock and knew it was Gabriel before opening the door. Dressed in different clothing than he wore earlier, he hugged me tightly. I inhaled his woodsy scent. “Never open a door unless you know who’s knocking.” He held some gizmo in his palm. “Hell, ya never know when a deranged carpenter might be lurking about.”

“You work on Sundays?”

“Not often. But today I just had to get out of the house.”

“Oh.” My voice sputtered. The reality of him having a house, a wife, and children, resurfaced, making me uneasy.

“Where’s your mini-mouthpiece?”

“Nikki decided to stay a few more days with her favorite cousin.”

“Well, c’mon.” Gabriel pulled me into the entry foyer with him, closed my apartment door and busily installed a peep hole. “That’ll make things a little safer for you two.” He held out one hand and briskly rubbed his thumb across the tips of his four fingers as though trying to get circulation going. Then his face turned solemn. “Cherie, we have to talk. I can’t get you out of my mind. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I’m not sure how to handle what’s going on here. When I went home this morning, Astrid didn’t say a word and acted like I was merely leaving for a short vacation when I put a few clothes together.” Sadness flooded his eyes. “I just kissed my daughters goodbye, and walked out the door.”

My heart hurt for his little girls and a deeper sense of guilt unfolded. Involvement of children made our actions more injurious than reckless adultery. Shame overshadowed the wonderful emotions I previously felt.

“I brought enough clothes to stay a few days and contemplate my future,” he said shyly still standing out in the foyer. “If you don’t mind having a grouch underfoot for a few days.”

Mind? I was ecstatic. Yet at the same time feeling guilt.
Homewrecker!
Gabriel stood staring at me for an answer. “Just don’t interrupt me when I’m watching
The Mod Squad.
” I pulled him inside.

The evening began on a somber note, but turned passionate as we repeatedly made love and fell asleep in each other arms. I knew I was in love with him. It was a visceral sense that I did not question. Even knowing how great the odds were of getting my heart broken, fear nor guilt could keep me from embracing this experience. Here was a man who listened with undivided attention when I spoke, even about trivial stuff, yet when he spoke, I often lost thought mid-sentence, due to memorizing everything from his head to his toes.

The following morning, I cooked breakfast while Gabriel showered for work. He thanked me for the meal, helped clear the table, and insisted we do dishes together. Seriously? A dream lover and decent dishwasher to boot?

The Jewel Box had become more tolerable after Beau deemed Kat and me as waitresses only, but returning was difficult. I asked Kat if she could handle work without me a few more days and she eagerly accepted, wanting the extra bucks. When Gabriel knocked on my door shortly before six, I met him with kisses.

“You expecting company?” He glanced at lit candles on my dining table.

“My distinguished guest just arrived.” I kissed him. “I think I’ll enjoy some sawdust sorbet before my caviar.”

“I’m distinguished?” He pulled me closer.

“Well, you’ve got a special kind of
je ne sais quoi
.”

“You takin’ French lessons, girl?

“No, I just heard it somewhere and like the poetic way it sounds.”

“Poetic? You’re really into that muse-mush crap, aren’t ya?”

“I enjoy some poetry, but mostly I dig anything French. And despite your vile mouth, you make me feel as romantic as an evening in Paris.”

“Oh girl, you don’t know what you do to me. Ummm,” he moaned. “Well, I better not get sappy this early in the evening.” He gave me a mini-lip massage before jumping into the shower.

With a towel tied around his chiseled waist, Gabriel walked into the kitchen. “Wanna swing by tomorrow morning and see the carpentry job I’m doing?”

“Twist my arm,” I tried being cool when indeed I was drooling inside like he’d just declared undying love for me and unveiled plans to purchase adjoining burial plots for us atop some picturesque mountain in Montana. How could any woman not be in love with this man? He was kind, considerate, fearless, gentle, intelligent, organized, and Lordy, Lordy was he ever an incredible lover. The kind of lover who tosses your soul onto new horizons, across the black void, into the sparkling universe, and causes you to speak languages you never studied. I would’ve traded my sponge curlers, bell bottom jeans, driver’s license, library card, voter registration, and every Beatles album I owned for more time with him.

Days later, I drove to a nearby subdivision where my guy was working. Gabriel escorted me through the enormous house that looked crudely unfinished, and I sauntered around complaining about wanting to see a more exciting version. “This is bland and boring.”

“Behave or I’ll send you home.”

“At least there’s air conditioning there.”

“You my friend, are spoiled.” He gently guided me to another room. “But, I know what you mean about the heat. I was having a sinkin’ spell before you walked in.”

“Ooooh pleeeease. What a beautiful stairway.”

“That’s what we in the business call a hand crafted spiral staircase. You like it?”

“My inarticulate tongue is groping for words to express its splendor.”

“Groping tongue?” He raised eyebrows Groucho fashion and leaned against me. “You’re giving me chills talkin’ that way, Blondie.”

Since I was picking up Nikki early the next day, I decided to stay and watch him work. Moving around the house, Gabriel explained plans for
several rooms while schooling me on circular saws, molding, swag, dowels, cornice rafters, louvers, joists, and studs. My slow walking, crude talking, chain smoking, arrogant acting carpenter was creative at heart. And busy.

“See you at home later.” He used my elbow to politely guide me to the door.

“Just one sec.” I bent down and picked up a tiny wedge of wood from the front foyer. “I’ll use this as a doorstop when I move into my house near the ocean and keep windows open to let breezes fly through.”

“You’re such a dreamer, Blondie.”

“Everyone needs to dream a little. Otherwise, not much happens in life.”

8

Collecting Nikki from Ellen’s always entailed an explosion of tears over parting from Cousin Jimmy. Even though my daughter begrudgingly climbed into my car to go to our new apartment, it didn’t take more than five minutes until she was in love with me again, chattering as I drove across town. Her Q&A seemed endless, but that’s the great thing about three year olds—they ask easy questions. Like, “Can we go to the park today?” or “Do lions like monkeys?” They almost never ask, “Are you working in a topless club?” or “Are you having an affair with a married man?” Between her frenzy of questions, I managed to ease the news that on nights I worked she would be staying with a sitter who lived in our complex. Instead of being concerned, she looked at me with her big blue eyes and poised her pouty red lips, eager to put in her two cents as I told her about Delilah. Her petite heart shaped face and champagne blonde tresses were the only features of mine visible at her young age, but boy could she talk.