freefalling through wave after wave of pleasure without hitting a crescendo and eventually stopping.
But the ecstasy just keeps building, the tremors continue until my heart thunders and I can’t catch my breath. The desire is indefinable. My fingers grasp at whatever part of him I can hold onto and my muscles seize. If this doesn’t stop, I could very well die from the force of it. And just as soon as I accept that I’m willing to trade it all for this ultimate feeling of bliss, I’m hurled out of my dream. I wake up twisted in my sheets, gasping for air.
Awake, I run my hands up and down my body in complete disbelief. My nipples are hard and sensitive to the touch. I’m covered with a sheen of sweat, and every muscle is quivering, as if I’ve just run a marathon. I slide my hand between my legs and feel the tenderness and swollen wetness of my sex.
In the inky darkness of the night, I lie on my bed, and in the confused gap between awake and sleep, I believe that somehow, some way, I really was with Max tonight.
I curl into my pillow and imagine that my head is resting on his shoulder and I let out a long sigh. When I move my knee higher, I’m sure my leg is resting over his thigh. His presence is overwhelming.
“Max?” I whisper.
I close my eyes and vividly picture him flung across his bed, his heart still racing as he pulls me close.
“I’m here, Ava,” he whispers back.
Chapter Five / On the Road to Ojai
The man she had was kind and clean, and well enough for every day, but oh, dear friends, you should have seen, the one that got away.
~ Dorothy Parker
M orning creeps quietly into my bedroom until the light of day can’t be denied. As I flutter under the sheets and blink the fuzziness out of my eyes, the answer comes to me.
I must drive to Ojai and tell Max face-to-face what’s on my mind.
With that resolve, I rise and begin getting ready, including checking how to get to Ojai on MapQuest. As I print out the instructions, an idea occurs to me, and I send another job to my printer while I finish my breakfast.
It isn’t until I’m settled into my car and driving north that the panic sets in. What am I going to say? What if I get there and he refuses to see me? Even though we are
or were
just friends, one hundred-forty miles is a long way to go to be rejected. Luckily, I didn’t have these thoughts earlier when I was home and could’ve easily abandoned the idea of going in the first place.
The first hour on the freeway is endless as possible scenarios run through my head, including ringing the bell and finding no one home. It reminds me that
art boy
does not like surprises. The irony is, I’m not so sure I like surprises either.
Eventually, I reach the turnoff to Ojai off the 101, which leads me through a rural area as I drive inland for about twenty minutes. As I get closer, I see a couple strip malls, one with a Burger King and Taco Bell, and the second has an out-of-place looking Starbucks that must service people coming and going from Ojai. I hit the brakes and swerve into the parking lot.
Time for a latte,
I surmise.
I may be tired from the drive and can benefit from a shot of caffeine, but I’m not fooling myself. I’m losing the courage to pay Max and his aunt a visit, and I need to regroup.
Other than the lone woman working behind the counter, I’m the only one in Starbucks. After years of waiting in lines in L.A., walking right up to the counter and ordering is a new experience. I look out the window.
“A penny for your thoughts,” the barista says, while wiping her hands on her green apron. Her brown hair is threaded with gray and she has a sun-worn, kind face—quite different from the college students and wannabe actors that usually help me at home.
I snap to attention and face her. “Oh, yes, I’ll have a tall nonfat latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla and extra foam. Oh, and Splenda mixed in.” If I’m going to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee, they can mix
But the ecstasy just keeps building, the tremors continue until my heart thunders and I can’t catch my breath. The desire is indefinable. My fingers grasp at whatever part of him I can hold onto and my muscles seize. If this doesn’t stop, I could very well die from the force of it. And just as soon as I accept that I’m willing to trade it all for this ultimate feeling of bliss, I’m hurled out of my dream. I wake up twisted in my sheets, gasping for air.
Awake, I run my hands up and down my body in complete disbelief. My nipples are hard and sensitive to the touch. I’m covered with a sheen of sweat, and every muscle is quivering, as if I’ve just run a marathon. I slide my hand between my legs and feel the tenderness and swollen wetness of my sex.
In the inky darkness of the night, I lie on my bed, and in the confused gap between awake and sleep, I believe that somehow, some way, I really was with Max tonight.
I curl into my pillow and imagine that my head is resting on his shoulder and I let out a long sigh. When I move my knee higher, I’m sure my leg is resting over his thigh. His presence is overwhelming.
“Max?” I whisper.
I close my eyes and vividly picture him flung across his bed, his heart still racing as he pulls me close.
“I’m here, Ava,” he whispers back.
Chapter Five / On the Road to Ojai
The man she had was kind and clean, and well enough for every day, but oh, dear friends, you should have seen, the one that got away.
~ Dorothy Parker
M orning creeps quietly into my bedroom until the light of day can’t be denied. As I flutter under the sheets and blink the fuzziness out of my eyes, the answer comes to me.
I must drive to Ojai and tell Max face-to-face what’s on my mind.
With that resolve, I rise and begin getting ready, including checking how to get to Ojai on MapQuest. As I print out the instructions, an idea occurs to me, and I send another job to my printer while I finish my breakfast.
It isn’t until I’m settled into my car and driving north that the panic sets in. What am I going to say? What if I get there and he refuses to see me? Even though we are
or were
just friends, one hundred-forty miles is a long way to go to be rejected. Luckily, I didn’t have these thoughts earlier when I was home and could’ve easily abandoned the idea of going in the first place.
The first hour on the freeway is endless as possible scenarios run through my head, including ringing the bell and finding no one home. It reminds me that
art boy
does not like surprises. The irony is, I’m not so sure I like surprises either.
Eventually, I reach the turnoff to Ojai off the 101, which leads me through a rural area as I drive inland for about twenty minutes. As I get closer, I see a couple strip malls, one with a Burger King and Taco Bell, and the second has an out-of-place looking Starbucks that must service people coming and going from Ojai. I hit the brakes and swerve into the parking lot.
Time for a latte,
I surmise.
I may be tired from the drive and can benefit from a shot of caffeine, but I’m not fooling myself. I’m losing the courage to pay Max and his aunt a visit, and I need to regroup.
Other than the lone woman working behind the counter, I’m the only one in Starbucks. After years of waiting in lines in L.A., walking right up to the counter and ordering is a new experience. I look out the window.
“A penny for your thoughts,” the barista says, while wiping her hands on her green apron. Her brown hair is threaded with gray and she has a sun-worn, kind face—quite different from the college students and wannabe actors that usually help me at home.
I snap to attention and face her. “Oh, yes, I’ll have a tall nonfat latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla and extra foam. Oh, and Splenda mixed in.” If I’m going to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee, they can mix
Similar Books
