Chapter 19

The next four weeks passed far too fast. I achieved little at work. Rory was far too distracting. She was happy, as in very happy. She flourished and matured as if overnight. It showed in small but subtle ways, her confidence in our relationship growing. While before, she’d ask to do things, she now told me to do things; handing me a grocery list and telling me to shop; directing my diet by taking much beloved Doritos away as I snacked in front of the TV and replacing them with fruits; and the real tell, dressing me. It started with a comment about my ratty T-shirt and spread to her selecting clothes in the morning and laying them out on the bed while I was showering.

Rory was exerting control and, had it been anyone else, and if I hadn’t been so charmed, I would have resisted. I liked my freedom. However, I loved her care. In her own way she was demonstrating love.

In bed, Rory was frequently horny and unapologetic about it. And if I wasn’t in the mood, she’d get me there with blinding speed.

Rory had my number. She knew how to control my body better than I did. She never resorted to nakedness to turn me on. Oh no. Rory was a artiste. A flash of panties or a draping blouse revealing unfettered small breasts, all done while seeming to do ordinary things, teased me endlessly.

She demanded and received frequent hugs and soft sweet kisses, and with the flick of her tongue could change sweetness into passion when the mood took her. And then, with me hot and bothered, she’d stop and smile, saying, “Tonight, mister.”

On Saturday, she surprised me yet again.

As I relaxed on the back patio with a beer - Peroni, a visit to Italy - she strolled out, barefoot in shorts and a pretty cotton top. She’d been shopping with Susie. Sitting, she pulled out a slip of paper and crossed something off. When I asked what she was doing, she responded, “Crossing off bucket list items.”

“You kept the list?” I asked.

“Of course I kept it. I added some stuff as well.”

“Like what?”

Her eyes blossomed with mischief. “You’ll find out.”

She scanned the list, folded it, and, rolling her bum, put it in her rear pocket. From her front pocket, she pulled out a lighter. Setting it on the table, she dug through her other pocket and, grinning, waved a joint at me. “Pot! I got it from Jimmy!”

I have no idea why, but I looked around as if cops were hiding in the bushes ready to pounce. It was an automatic reaction.

“You’re not smoking that,” I informed her.

“Yes I am. Would you rather I try it at a some party?”

Her dark eyes, flecked with gold, grew sly. She grinned, exposing her canines. “C’mon. Don’t be a fuddy-duddy. We’ll have fun.”

She admired the joint. “We’re at home alone. It’s Saturday. We’ll get high and watch a comedy. It’s supposed to be an awesome experience, according to Jimmie.”

Rory held out the joint. “You start it.” When I didn’t take it right away, she shook it. “C’mon, Ethan! Live a little!”

I took it, wondering what Rory would be like when high. It might be fun. Lighting the joint, I took a lungful in, suppressing the urge to cough, and passed it to her.

Rory, grinning, took it, puffed, inhaled, turned a bit green, and exploded in a coughing fit.

“Try taking smaller puffs,” suggested, taking the joint back and inhaling.

Rory grinned sheepishly and took a smaller toke, inhaling, holding her breath. Her chest constricted a couple of times and a small puff of smoke escaped her nostrils, but she held it in.

We smoked, passing the joint back and forth. A long forgotten, muted buzz settled over me. My body relaxed. Rory’s tokes became deeper. Worries melted away. The garden looked more lush, the colorful blooms prettier. So did Lady Gutenberg. So did Rory.

I liked her carelessly layered dark hair. Her nose was cute, too. So was the beauty spot at the side of her mouth. Lovely bare legs.

She inhaled deeply. “The smell of those flowers is amazing!” she observed. “Smell them! Incredible, huh?”

Inhaling deeply, I agreed. The blooms were fragrant and sweet.

“I’m thirsty,” she announced, standing. “Do you want anything?”

“Water would be good.”

“Kay. Be right back.”

I considered going for a swim, or maybe trying to climb a palm tree. I hadn’t climbed a tree since I was kid. Why had I stopped?

“Here ya go,” she said, handing me a sweating bottle of spring water.

She sat, put her bottle on the table and a plate of seedless green grapes. Taking one, she popped it into her mouth. Then another. Then another.

“It’s incredible how these grapes pop in your mouth,” she observed. “Are they different? Here try one.”

I tried. It popped, sweet juices on my tongue. She was right! These were incredible grapes.

Rory grinned broadly. “Am I right or am I right?” She tossed another into her mouth. “Mmmm. The best grapes EVER!”

I laughed. We were definitely high. She looked very pretty, too. Was she wearing a bra? “Are you wearing a bra?” I asked.

“Yup. It’s a plain old white one. Want me to change it for a sexy one?”

“No. Any bra on you is sexy.”

She ate another grape, then said, “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I diddled myself in the shower this morning and actually came!” Grinning at me, her eyes sparkling with gold flecks, she continued, “Bad news for you.”

“Why?”

With a smirk, she said, “Now I can get myself off, you’re redundant!”

Chuckling, I informed her, “I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands again.”

“Yeah. There’s that.” With a giggle, she asked, “What’s it like to have a nymphomaniac as a girlfriend? Pretty awesome, I bet. Every guy’s wet dream.”

I laughed. Rory was funny when high.

She popped another grape. “Mmmm. Delicious. Are you turned on from all this dirty talk?”

Surprisingly, no, I told her.

“So getting high doesn’t get your libido cooking? No worries. I’ll get you all hot and bothered. You’re easy.”

Laughing, I said, “You, Rory Callahan, are one of a kind! I adore you.”

She grinned. “What’s not to adore? I’m amazing. Am I right or am I right?”

She popped the last grape in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and observed, “Where did they all go? How many did you eat?”

“Four.”

“Huh. We don’t have any more.” Staring at me, she said, “Go buy some more.”

“Nope. I’m not getting close to anything with an engine in it while I’m high.”

“I guess a boat ride is out of the question?”

“You’re damned right.”

“Shame. I haven’t water-skied naked yet.” Then, jumping up, she announced, “I’m hungry.”

I glanced at the sky. Soft cotton ball clouds drifted. I studied one. It looked like the boot of Italy. No. A hockey stick. No. A musical note. Whatever. It was pretty; fluffy, pure white. Drifting without a care in the world.

“What ‘cha doin’?” Rory asked, placing a plate in front of me. She had another plate for herself. “I made a ham sandwich for you.”

“I was watching the clouds.” I took a bite of the sandwich. Mayonnaise squeezed out and fell into my lap; a glutinous goop of yuck. I tasted mayonnaise, nothing else, and put it back on the plate. Hunger didn’t overcome the slathering of mayo.

Rory ate away. “Mmmm. Good, isn’t it?”

Nope. “It’s great. I’m not hungry for ham.”

“Give it here. I’ll eat it.”

I pushed the plate across to her.

She gazed up at the sky. “Look. That one looks like Jimmy falling off the water-skis, legs and arms all over the place.” She took another bite of her ham sandwich and pointed, “And that one looks like you as an old man fishing off the dock and still not catching anything. See?”

She took another bite. “If you look at that one...” She pointed. “ ... you can see Wile E. Coyote. See? There’s his eye, and there’s his snout and arms.”

This was amusing. Cloud staring was better than a Rorschach test.

“And that one is a woman with humongous boobs and a big nose,” she observed, taking another bite. She tilted her head. “Or maybe a guy with a fat stomach and an erection. See?”

I chuckled. Hungry, I stood and headed to the kitchen. Bag of Doritos in hand, I returned, much happier.

Late afternoon sun was still hitting. I was sweating lightly despite the patio umbrella. Maybe it was the marijuana. “Let’s go for a swim,” I suggested as Rory licked her fingers.

“Kay!” she exclaimed, jumping up again.

How could she have so much energy?

We changed and swam. Rory splashed, laughed, and generally had fun dunking me. She liked being chased. She was a very happy, energetic, and high, girl.

When she tried to elude me after shoving me under, I reached out and grabbed the waist of her bikini bottom tugging it down as she swam away, exposing her ass. She screamed, “Ethan!” in pretend outrage, drawing the attention of a few people on the beach.

She made me smile so damned hard.

But, at some point, Rory changed. It started in her exquisite, captivating eyes; a strange expression I hadn’t seen before. She stopped playing, floated, not smiling, and watched me, flecks of pure 24 karat gold caught in the late afternoon light.

She circled me as I floated as if corralling me, then came closer.

In a very quiet voice, she said, “I think you should know, I’m in love with you.”

Being high seemed to magnify my emotions, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe.

“You’re it, Ethan,” she continued. “You’re the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. You need to accept it.”

She came closer and closer, staring into my eyes, wrapped her arms around my neck and brushed her lips on mine. “I’m telling you now so you can adjust to the idea.”

This was a different girl speaking. Shocked, I realized this was a woman speaking, assured, confident, indomitable. One month into her summer vacation and she’d blossomed and matured beyond understanding.

Even stranger, despite being high, I knew she was right. I had no doubt whatsoever. Rory was it. This beautiful, abnormally mature, charming, forceful, and endlessly fascinating girl was the one I loved.

I tried to speak, but my throat was tight. Words seems to fail me. Instead, I took her hand and pulled her towards the beach. We rose out of the surf together, still holding hands. I led her back to the house and, in the privacy of our bedroom, I made love to her.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow.

Rory stood perfectly still and let me untie her bikini bra. She let me look as I removed it, let me study her perfect, firm, small breasts. She let me untie the sides of her bikini bottom. It fell away, and she stood still, letting me admire her youthful beauty, the way her moms swelled out, her silken pubic bush so sexy.

She watched me as I dropped my swimming suit, then looked down at my partial erection. I took her hand and led her to the bed. Together, we laid down facing each other.

Finally, I spoke. “Okay.”

Rory’s eyes searched mine. A smile curled the corners of her sensual lips. “Good,” she said, a simple word full of meaning. And, with her palm on my jaw, she kissed me.

My senses were on overdrive. Her lips were pure, warm silk. I could smell her, sweet, a faint trace of perfume and salt. When I touched her hip, I drew her closer and the soft skin of her stomach pressed against my cock. Her firm breasts touched my chest, then pressed.