Chapter 7
Josh and I have made love a total of three times, and it occurs to me as we're lying here on our sides, facing each other, legs intertwined, fingers laced, staring at each other like newly weds, isn't that ironic, that each of the three times has been completely different.
The first time was straight out passion. It was six years of desire that had built to the point on no return. It was intense, concentrated, a culmination of a million feelings that refused to hide any longer. We literally kissed for like an hour before actually making love; he focused solely on my lips, his hands were tentative, and until gasps and moans became names, neither of us said a word.
The second time was playful and fun. It was supposed to be quick, and to be fair, it was the quickest of our three times. We joked, we laughed, he tickled me. And yes, there was a lot of kissing, but it was different kissing than the first time. He kissed me everywhere, tasted every inch of my body, paid special attention to my breasts, my nipples, my thighs; his touch was feather light; we explored more.
And this last time, it was almost reverent. He whispered over and over that he loved me. He kissed tears off my cheeks; I kissed them off his. His kisses focused on my neck, my collarbone, my ear, my jaw, he held my face in his hands. His touch was deliberate, his actions slow. He held me over him, loved the way my hair fell around our faces, loved the way our eyes locked together and wouldn't let go.
I have a feeling Josh never makes love the same way twice.
So we're lying here, just kind of looking at each other and smiling like idiots when Josh boldly proclaims, "That's not the last time we're doing that."
"Really," I say chuckling. "What do you suggest?"
"An elaborate scheme," he says, his hands wondering over my side to my hip, drawing circles.
"We'd be very careful, of course."
"We're two very intelligent people, surely we can think of something," he says, dropping his head to place hot open mouth kisses on my shoulder. Man, I like it when he does that.
"We'd have to limit ourselves."
"Like to once a day?" he asks, and although he's still kissing my shoulder, I can feel the smirk on his face.
"More like once a year."
His head jerks up to my face in lightning speed. "Noooo," he says, shaking his head. "Unacceptable. Three times a week."
"That's not sneaky. Birthdays and Christmas."
"Have you lost your mind? Once a week."
"Once every other month."
"Was this not as good for you as it was for me? Twice a month."
"It was incredible. Once a month."
"Plus birthdays and all holidays."
"All holidays? No way. I know you Lyman; you'll study every calendar for every country in the world. You'll find a holiday every day, you'll make them up."
He starts to protest but then nods. "True."
"Once a month plus Christmas and birthdays."
"Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, Easter, Labor Day, and Halloween too."
"Pick two of those."
"Four."
"Three."
"Fine. I'll take Labor Day, Fourth of July, and Memorial Day. Now you pick three."
"That's not how it works."
"You're no fun."
"Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it. Plus…"
"There's more?"
He nods and grins. "I'm going to need occasional make-out sessions."
"Make-out sessions?" This is the word he chooses to use?
"Do you have a better term?"
I shrug. "No, not really. What do you mean by occasional?"
"Once a week."
"What, I just come into your office every Wednesday, shut the door behind me and make out with you for ten minutes?"
"No, although I like that idea. Keep thinking of things like that." I try not to laugh, but he continues on. "I'm thinking every Sunday for an hour. We usually work from home on Sunday's anyway, we'll just slip it in."
"We need a full hour for make-out time?"
"I like the kissing, Donna."
I nod. "Ok, but all clothes remain on."
"On, but unbuttoned."
"Shirt only. Pants remain completely done up, as well as bras."
"I can live with that."
"And other times, it's business as usual. No staring, no flirting, no insinuating, no touching, no comments, no freaking out, no quickies in Leo's closet."
"Agreed."
"Ok, but don't think I'm going to cave. You get once a month, birthdays and four major holidays, plus one hour a week of lip action. Nothing more."
"No caving; got it."
"Should I draw up a contract? We could sign it."
"I think this is something better left unwritten." And when he says that, suddenly reality comes crashing down on us and we both know none of what we just talked about is going to work.
"Josh…" I whisper.
He leans in and kisses my forehead. "I know."
"Can we have the weekend?" I'm not quite ready to give this up. Just two more days, that's all I ask.
"Yeah, we can have the weekend," he whispers, pulling me closer to him and holding me tight.
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
We actually have a good time at dinner with CJ and Toby. CJ goes on and on about her amazing spa day, trying to make Josh feel guilty for dragging me out of it. He plays the 'I don't care' card, but I can tell he does. He glances at me as she talks about it as if to apologize. Doesn't he know that a day at the spa, as wonderful as it is, can't compare to a day of mind-blowing sex with the man you love? I'll have to tell him that later, when we're alone.
Toby came in fourth in his tournament and won a thousand dollars. I think he's pretty excited, although you just can never tell with him. He is having fun making fun of Josh for losing in four hands, though, and I know he's enjoying that. Tonight, they're hitting the blackjack tables, and CJ and I are going out dancing again.
"Dancing again?" Josh asks as we finish coffee after dinner. Poor guy. He looks so tired. There was very little sleep last night followed by quite a bit of strenuous activity today.
"That's right my friend. Donna and I have groove, and we're going to flaunt it."
Josh's eyes about bug out of his head but Toby's the one who speaks. "You could barely open your eyes this morning. Are you sure you want another night of that?"
"Oh, I intend to stay relatively sober tonight. I was too drunk to notice all the men hitting on me last night."
"You're sure men were hitting on you?" Josh asks her.
"Have you seen me?" is her only reply. He just nods and shuts up. Of course men were hitting on her.
"We should go and watch out for them," Josh says to Toby.
"No, no, no, no," says CJ. "You two only get in our way, right Donna?"
Umm…ok. "Right."
"What do you mean?" Josh squeaks. "I can keep up, I can dance with the best of them."
"Well, that's debatable," she says and I laugh. "But men don't hit on two women who go to a bar with two men."
"Exactly," Josh says triumphantly.
"And see, that's going to be a hindrance. We'd like to be hit on, many times by many men, wouldn't we Donna?"
Uh oh. "Yes, absolutely." Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Ok, I looked at him. He looks, well… not happy. But he's going to have to get used to conversations like this.
"I don't want to go anyway," says Toby, like he could care less if we got picked up by strangers and moved to West Virginia to raise sheep on a farm. "I'm playing blackjack tonight and sleeping in tomorrow."
"But," Josh looks at Toby and then me. I give him that cool it look of mine. "Fine, I'll play blackjack too. But I won't enjoy it," he says, emphatically.
"Yeah, I'll be worried about that all night," CJ says, standing up and motioning for me to follow.
"We haven't paid," I say quietly, standing up.
"The boys are paying tonight. Thanks guys." And off we go to change clothes.
I'm in my room all of thirty seconds when my cell rings. Oh, I wonder who that could be. "Hello Josh."
"Is she there with you?"
"No."
"Dancing?" It's the squeak again. Doesn't he have any control over that?
"It's fine, Josh."
"Donna, last time you went dancing you got illegally married and woke up in some gomer's bed!" The more he talks, the faster he gets and I can't help but laugh..
"Yes, but the gomer was you."
"Still!" He's freaking out a bit here. I'm kind of enjoying it.
"If I promise not to get illegally married and go to bed with a gomer tonight, will you feel better?"
"No! Men are still…" He stops talking.
"What?"
"Going to…" He stops again.
"Yes?"
"You know… touch you and dance with you and feed you one liners and buy you drinks and try to get you into bed." Faster, faster, and faster.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm already engaged then, or someone might be worried about that."
"Donna!"
"Josh!" I'm mocking him, I admit.
"You like to torture me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Donna…" Now he's whining.
"Josh…" I mimic.
"I thought…" He stops talking.
"What?"
"We could…" He stops again, but I know what he's talking about this time.
"Yes?"
"You know… wake up together tomorrow." See, why does he have to be so sweet? He could have said 'have wild sex all night.' But no, he goes with the waking up together line. Smooth. Very smooth.
"I see," and I can't help smiling. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem. I already told CJ I'm too tired to stay out late. I should be back by one or two."
"That's not very late?" Now he's squeaking again. I love it!
"It's not late when there's a big vote in the house coming up," I remind him.
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Because men aren't hitting on you then!"
"Josh, you can't be a total Neanderthal. It's only cute up to a point." It's still cute at this point, but he doesn't need to push his luck.
It gets quiet for a minute. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"You're really not."
"No."
"I'll call you when I get back. You might be on a blackjack streak anyway. If you're still up, then we can…"
"I'll be up."
"Ok," I say laughing. "Have fun with Toby."
"Yeah, have a horrible time with CJ," he mumbles.
In fact, I do have a terrible time with CJ. It's not her fault, I'm simply beat. What with the married, must get annulled, not married, engaged, emotional break down, sex three times, plan to continue sex, realizing said plan wasn't going to work, and lying in bed with Josh, it's been an emotionally exhausting day. We call it quits at 12:30, and by 12:45, I'm back in my room. Fifteen minutes later, Josh is at my door, leaning against the frame wearing jeans and a sweater holding a bottle of Champaign and two glasses. I love Atlantic City!
