Chapter 6

Josh’s turn:

Hot dogs for dinner. Chili sauce, chopped onions. Pickle slices. One weenie cut up and fed to Pickles. I’m talking about the cat, not the jar of dills.

We enjoyed the novelty of the hot dog dinner, ended up kicking off our shoes and propping up together on the back deck, feet on the railing, for a while, at least.

“You haven’t said anything since we admitted it, Gee,” I said. “Did you overload yourself?”

“Nope. I consider it a done deal. I thought we’d eventually ... talk.” She smiled, reached over and brushed her fingertips down my arm.

I shook visibly.

“Wow, Josh,” she said. “You’re sensitive.”

“I am. Pretty girl. Quiet of the evening. She loves me...”

“I think I wanna spend the night here tonight. And call in for a few personal days.”

“Dangerous, babe,” I said.

“How? We’ve been together over the weekend, overnight together, before...”

“You love me.”

“I absolutely do love you. Is my car going to be okay where it is?”

“Let me make a phone call.” I called the park office, explained to them the situation, that we’d move the car the next day. “There,” I said. “That’s taken care of.”

“Now,” she said, “would you mind terribly if we just eased up the river a bit? Little more secluded...”

“As you wish, ma’am,” I replied.

She looked at me a little smile on her lips. “I wish.”

“Then you can single us up on the bow line while I start the engine.”

“Aye-aye, captain!”

“Smart-ass.”

“Hey, you made your choice.” She worked her hands around the cleated stern line, retrieving it and coiling it.

In a matter of a couple of minutes the old diesel was chuffing at idle. “Let us go when I put’er in gear,” I said.

“Got it!”

With the bow against the bank I eased the stern toward the river’s center, then backed us out into the current. I knew just the place – a half-mile upstream, a strip of swamp between the river and higher ground, water deep enough for us to get close to the cypresses that line the banks there.

I was used to mooring like this single-handed. With Gee’s eager participation we made short work of the task. I knew that the river was neither rising nor falling, so I eased us into the mud, invisible below the tea-tinted waters. We’re secure. At least the boat’s secure.

Me, I think I’ve fallen. We’re washing the grime from our hands. Mooring lines tend to get nasty. I finish, flicking the water off mine, step sideways and she turns to me.

“So you love me, do you?”

“Yep. Got it bad.”

“How bad, Josh? Weekend? A month? Six months?”

“You tell me, Gee. I don’t say that lightly. I don’t think I ever saw you as a short-term thing when I started thinking the l-word. There are plenty of women I wouldn’t have to love if I just wanted something for a temporary thing.”

“I am NOT one of those, mister.”

“Didn’t suspect you were. What? We’ve been seeing each other over a month. You’ve been with me on HOW many overnights, never acted like you thought I needed servicing to maintain your status.”

“Because I wouldn’t, as you say, ‘service’ you. If you love me and I love you, then it’s making love. I don’t look at you and see the guy who wants gratuitous sex.”

I smiled a little. “And I never thought of you as the girl who’d give it to me.”

“But if you love me...”

“Which I do...”

“And I love you...”

“As you claim...”

She kissed me softly. “Then it’s hardly gratuitous and it’s only partly about sex...” She pulled back, looked into my eyes, then her lips dove for my ear. A nibble and, “I know you like sex.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I bumped up against things in bed too many times.”

“I tried NOT to...”

“I know you did. Sooooo honorable ... I had feelings, too, but Josh...”

“Yes, love?”

“I didn’t want you to think it’s because I have hormones and wanted my itches scratched.”

“Me neither. When it happens, I want it clear-eyed, joyous ... because we both...”

“I agree.”

I kissed her, then returned the nibble on her ear. Her legs almost buckled.

“Don’t DO that when I’m standing, dammit! I lose control.”

I backed up to the bench and sat, pulling her down with me. “Control is sometimes vastly overrated.”

“I need control, Josh. There’s something else...”

I felt my heart drop. “What else?”

“Well, I sort of did some research.”

“What kind of research?”

“On you.”

“Not much to find. No ex-wives. No criminal record. Nothing.”

“What do you do for a living, Josh? And don’t try that ‘freelance writer/photographer’ thing.”

“I don’t have to do anything for a living. That’s the truth. What did you find?”

She looked sheepish. “Uhhhh...”

“So you KNOW that I have money in the bank. That’s a big revelation?”

“Well, kind of big. I was being prudent. Just trying to find out without being nosy.”

“Not nosy to my face...”

“Well,” she said in a tiny little voice.

“Kind of sneaky. You could’ve asked.”

“I know. But I was afraid you’d think it was about money. It’s not. Really. I have my own.”

“Your own...” I repeated.

“Yes. I work. I save. I may not be able to quit and drop out of society just yet, but I pay my way.”

“What were you worried about? That I was a bum?”

“I dunno. Just didn’t add up. The boat? I don’t know enough about boats to put numbers on Dorable. But your house. Your vehicle...”

“And my million-dollar cat.”

“Pickles, too.”

“You know, dimples,” I said, “a person could get upset about this – you looking at my background.”

“I know. But I told you.”

“Still...”

“BEFORE we got any more serious...”

“Gee, all the money means is that I don’t worry about the nine to five thing. If I sell an article, that’s fine. If I don’t, that’s fine, too.”

“What about adding another person in your life?”

“You. You, I think about adding. What does that mean to YOU?”

“I dunno. Still figuring that out. You like your lifestyle.”

“You like my lifestyle,” I returned. “At least you seem to...”

“We can continue doing just like we’re doing, ‘ see each other when we can make the connection...”

“Josh, you tell me you LIKE being on the river. You were talking about an expedition back to the Atchafalaya Basin, then up the Red River. I can’t deny you that...”

Okay, boy, it’s time to be either really brave or really stupid, and the two choices are NOT mutually exclusive. “You could come with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“How serious do I need to be?”

“You were talking months...”

“I know.”

“What about my job?”

“Lock-step along? Or take off on an adventure that YOU got all giggly about when we discussed it?”

“Dropping my job and my apartment...”

“Empty your apartment. Store whatever you need at MY place.”

“I’m not sleeping butt to butt with you all summer with both of us in PJs.”

“Then we need further discussion,” I said.

“Discuss this, bud,” she countered, wrapping me up in an embrace, her lips stopping me from any further speech, not that my brain was up to it anyway. When we broke the kiss, we were sprawled on the bed, legs laced together.

I didn’t want this to ever stop, so for a while, it didn’t, then her eyes at close distance, “I’ve always been the sane one, you know.”

“I was, too,” I said. “There are still people back there that think I’m crazy for drawing a line and saying ‘I’ve got enough. I’m going to do what I want to do.’ Now I have a difficult time deciding what’s the right thing to do.”

She wiggled against me, giggling. “Excellent choice of words...”

“Huh?”

“If you’d said you were having a ‘hard’ time, I’d’ve lost it.”

“Grrrrrr.” I attacked her neck, her squeals being more encouragement than outrage.

“I’m” gasp “Tryin’” squeal “to be” giggle “serious.”

“Okay. Just one more.”

She twisted out of my grasp, rescued her neck by the expedient of locking her lips on mine. Broke with an “mmmmm”. Then, “Josh, I agree with your idea. You. Me. what passes for normal life in our wake. But a stipulation.”

“What’s the stipulation?”

“We have to be married.”

“Seriously.”

“Very seriously married. Georgina Bates does not shack up.”

“Very moral of you,” I said. “I was thinking of the logical reasons, myself.”

“You were thinking of ‘married’?”

“Heavenly creature,” I said, “of course I’ve been thinking. A bit of me dies every time you leave for the night.”

“Why didn’t you say that, Josh?”

“Because I was afraid that if I did and you didn’t feel that way, I’d lose a neat friend.”

“We’re so silly,” she said. “We’re both tiptoing around afraid to scare off the other. But now...”

“You’re not scared?” I queried.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Josh. But I’m a flake. I have a history. Tarnished goods.”

“We’ve talked about our histories.”

“You didn’t marry yours.”

“I’d get married, though...”

Her smile sort of disappeared. She looked at me, her face close, eyes very serious. “What did you say?”

“I said I’d get married. Right woman. All that.”

The sparkle came back. “Am I gonna have to beat you on the head to get you to ask me?”

“Maybe. What makes you think I’m talking about you, anyway?”

She popped the side of my head. “Ask me.”

“Georgina Bates, I want you to marry me.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you gonna answer?”

“I wanted you to ask. Didn’t necessarily mean I was gonna accept.” The smile and the glimmer in her eyes betrayed her.

I kissed her. “Then don’t. Just be my friend. My love.”

“Nope. I think there’s too many reasons for us to be married,” she said. “Primary is that I don’t think I need state approval.”

“That means ... lots of things,” I said. “But I want it to be official. Legal ramifications and all that. If you don’t have an employer, you’re on MY insurance. What’s mine is yours, even without a will.”

“Terribly clinical, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know how clinical that is,” I countered. “I just offered you everything I have.”

“Josh. Did you offer me Josh?”

I answered with a kiss, then, “Yes.”

“Then I think you’ve met my criteria. I will marry you.”

“Good. That’s what I want.”

“Then it’s done,” she said. A little brushing kiss, then, “sealed with a kiss...” and her hand slid over the lump in my pants. “All we need is to consummate.”

I tried to come up with words but all I managed was a moan as I shook from the contact. Even that bit of vestigial communication was stifled by her lips on mine. I found myself being pushed, dragged, led, encouraged...

And I thought the perpetrator was a doll. One of my hands found its way to a somewhat muscular but still quite attractive ass. I detected a purr in the midst of a kiss as I squeezed and pulled her snugly against me.

I pulled that hand up, dragging the hem of her T-shirt (charming look, for her) up with it, then slid my hand back down, this time inside the waistband of her jeans. Perfectly smooth skin. Okay, I sort of knew that. I’d snuck a glance or two when she’d showered on the back deck on those overnight stays.

Kisses. Then, “Josh ... clothes. OFF!”

“Kinda drastic.”

“DO it, dammit!”

I obey orders. I’m faster than she is. I help her with her bra. She steps back.

I have one word. “Beautiful.”

She eyed me up and down. “Not bad yourself.” She giggled. “Are you drunk? I’m not drunk.”

“Should I be?”

“No. Just perfect. Take me to bed.”