Chapter 12: Breaking the Chains

Los Angeles, California

April 19, 2001

Jake had been teaching Meghan to cook during his convalescent period and she had become pretty good at it. She used her newfound skills to make dinner for Massa at his apartment every night that week after Laura and Celia returned from the studio for the day. And every night, after the dishes were put in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned, they would retire to his bedroom for sessions of enthusiastic sex with each other. They were like kids in a candy store, unable to believe they could just do this with each other whenever they were alone. Meghan got to experience cunnilingus for the first time, with Massa putting the skills Tiff had taught him for this particular act to full use (he did not tell Meghan where he learned to do that) and Meghan finally found out what all the fuss was about. She also discovered that she was multi-orgasmic, much to her delight. On one occasion Massa was able to suck three of them out of her and then give her another two while he was thrusting inside of her. That was a good night.

“So ... we’re kind of like boyfriend and girlfriend now, right?” Meghan asked hesitantly as they lay naked in each other’s arms on Thursday night.

“Yeah,” Massa said, feeling sleepy and content. “I guess we are. Once you put your mouth down there more than once, I think you have to start saying you’re in that kind of relationship.”

Meghan giggled. “As good a definition of boyfriend-girlfriend as any,” she said. “Anyway, since we’re now ... more than friends with each other, I think maybe it’s time I tell my family about you.”

“Really?” Massa asked hesitantly. “You mean ... I’d have to meet them?”

“Eventually you will if we keep going down this road,” she said, “but for now, I just want to let them know I’m seeing you. I’m ... uh ... not sure how they’re going to take it.”

“Because I’m a musician?” he asked. “You told me they don’t like musicians much.”

“That’s part of it,” she said, “but there’s also the fact that you’re ... uh...”

“Chinese?” he asked.

“I was going to say, ‘not white’, but yeah, they might have a problem with that. They’re kind of conservative about things like that. Not fond of gays, lesbians, or interracial relationships.”

“How do you think they’ll react?” he asked, clearly unhappy to hear this. “Will they forbid you to see me? Disown you?”

“I don’t think it would go that far,” Meghan said. “And even if it did, I would choose you over them.”

“Really?” he asked, touched by this.

“Really,” she said. “It will most likely just be disapproval and snide remarks and maybe the odd lecture about how interracial relationships are not what God wants. That kind of thing. Once they meet you, however, I’m sure you’ll grow on them.”

“Like a fungus?”

“If that’s the analogy you choose,” she said with a little giggle.

“Wow,” he said. “I’m looking forward to making their acquaintance.”

“I can tell,” Meghan said. “What about you? What will your parents think when you tell them you’re seeing a white Christian girl?”

“I actually think they will love you,” he said. “There’s not a big stigma in our family about that. One of my sisters is married to white man and my parents are quite fond of him.”

“Oh ... well, that’s good to know.”

“He’s a lawyer,” Massa said, “but they don’t hold that against him either.”

Meghan laughed and snuggled a little closer to him, relishing the feel of his flesh, the smell of their mixed sex secretions. Massa put his arms around her and held her tightly for a few moments, enjoying the very same things. Finally, they broke apart.

“I’m gonna take a shower now,” Meghan told him, climbing out of bed and standing, unashamed of her nudity before him. It was liberating to be able to walk around naked in front of someone. Massa was the first man (or even the first female, including Caydee) she had enjoyed such a relationship with. Even her shy lovers she had picked up out on the tour she had made turn the other way when she got dressed after they were finished getting it on.

She peed, showered, and brushed her teeth in Massa’s bathroom, even going so far as to leave the door open while she did all of this. It gave her a naughty little thrill knowing that he might be watching her. After toweling off, she walked naked back into the bedroom—Massa was still in bed under the sheets—and put her clothes back on while he watched. She took a brush out of her purse and brushed out her brunette hair, making it silky, smooth, and presentable.

“How do I look?” she asked him when she was done.

“You are beautiful,” he said simply.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” she said. “I’d better get going. I got Caydee duty in the morning and then Jake’s flying us back to SLO in the afternoon.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too,” she returned, “but I’ll be back Sunday after next. We’ll get together then.”

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

She smiled and leaned down and kissed him soundly. She could still taste her own essence on his lips and tongue. It was a very pleasant association. “Don’t forget to lock your door after I leave,” she told him, knowing that he was not quite as comfortable walking around nude in front of her as she was him and would not get up to accompany her to the door.

“I won’t,” he promised.

She kissed him one last time, hugged him tightly, and then made her way to the exit.

She had enjoyed a wonderful week, one of the best of her young life and she was happy. She was, however, a little worried about breaking the news to her parents. Maybe she would talk to her sister, Dannie, first as a way to test the waters.

She parked Laura’s Lexus in the garage of the Granada Hills house and then entered through the garage door, which brought her into the dark kitchen. She could hear the sound of female voices speaking to each other so she went that way and found Laura and Celia sitting together on the couch, both braless and in their pajamas, each with a glass of wine in hand.

“Hey, Meghan,” Laura greeted, just a bit of a slur to her words. This was obviously not their first glass of wine.

“Hey, Laura,” she returned. “Hey, Celia.”

“Did you and Massa have a good time?” Laura asked.

“Yes, we did,” Meghan confirmed. “A wonderful time.”

“At least someone around here is getting laid this week,” Celia said.

Meghan blushed brightly. “Celia!” she barked. “I never said we were doing that!”

“You don’t have to say it,” Celia told her. “It’s written all over your face.”

“And besides,” Laura said with a giggle, “you always smell like you just took a shower when you come back from visiting him. Are you that messy of a cook or is there something else you need to shower up from during these visits?”

Meghan gave in. “All right, all right,” she said, exasperated. “We are seeing each other that way. Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes,” both women answered in unison.

“We think it’s really cool,” Laura added. “It’s been clear to us that you and Massa have been really into each other for a long time. We’re glad you two were finally able to get together officially.”

“Grab a glass of wine and sit down and tell us about it,” Celia invited.

And so, Meghan did just that. She went to her room first where she stripped down to her panties and pulled a long t-shirt over herself. She then returned to the living room and poured herself a glass of Merlot from the latest bottle that had been opened. She sat in the easy chair across from the two former lovers and told the story of how she and Massa had finally hooked up for the first time, leaving out the part about giving him a blowjob while he sat on the edge of the tub.

“Making out in the old cliffside hot tub, huh?” Celia said with a smile. “I’ve done that a time or two with a person or two.”

“If that hot tub could talk,” Laura giggled. “The stories it could tell.”

“That was my first time doing ... you know ... that sort of thing in a hot tub. It was fun.”

“Wait until you do it in an airplane in flight for the first time,” Celia said. “Now that’s an experience to remember.”

“You’ve done it in an airplane?” Meghan asked, amazed.

“I have,” Celia confirmed.

“Me too,” Laura put in. “More than once, actually.”

“How does that work?” Meghan asked. She had heard of the mile-high club but had never met anyone who claimed membership in it. “Do you just go into the bathroom?”

“Uh ... well ... in our case we did it in the spot just behind the cockpit,” Celia said.

“You mean the area where the flight attendants sit?”

“No, this was in Jake’s plane,” Laura said.

“Ohhhh,” Meghan said. “So ... you did it to each other while Jake was flying?”

“No,” Laura said. “We each did this separately with Jake while we were flying with him on separate occasions.”

“Although Teach did feel me up pretty good under a blanket on a commercial overseas flight once,” Celia said.

“That was really hot,” Laura said nostalgically.

Meghan refused to get sidetracked. She still had a few unanswered questions. “Who was flying the plane while Jake was doing that to you?”

“Otto had the plane,” Celia said. “We wore dresses for easy access. Once we were at altitude and everything was copacetic, Jake switched the radio to the external speaker, unstrapped, and got behind us while we leaned over between the seats. It was fucking hot.”

“He got out of his seat in flight?” Meghan barked, both impressed and scandalized by this (and starting to get kind of turned on as well).

“It was something he’s not supposed to do so it made him very nervous,” Laura said. “He did say that that added to the experience for him.”

“Wow,” she said. “I felt naughty just doing it with Massa in my room that first time because it was in your house. I’m a total amateur compared to you two.”

“You gotta keep things exciting,” Laura said. “You don’t want your sex life to get boring.”

“Amen to that, sister,” Celia said, holding up her glass to Laura. The two of them clinked them together and then drank.

Things had not been awkward between Laura and Celia that week, despite the fact that Laura had rejected an offer of sex from the beautiful singer (and Celia would never know how much willpower it had taken for Laura to do that). They worked on her music during the days, ate dinner with Caydee at night, got her bathed and sung to and read to and tucked in, had a few glasses of wine (or a few bottles of wine like on Thursday night) and then went to their separate bedrooms to sleep. They did not mention Celia’s attempted seduction of her saxophone player. They did not mention Ron the pilot or his shortcomings (and fast-comings). They just behaved like the best friends who are no longer lovers that they were.

It drove Celia nearly insane. By this point her sexual frustration level was nearing the explosive point, much closer to it than if she had simply been alone. With Ron she could get a brief taste of sexual pleasure but no follow-through. It was like watching a partial eclipse of the sun instead of a total eclipse. The buildup without release time and time again was frustrating beyond belief, thus leading her to the point where she tried to get Teach to put her mouth on her. Teach, at least, knew her way around down there (and fucking how!).

Friday rehearsal went well—as well as could be anyway. They were still working up the basics. Jake had given her a few pointers to try after he had listened to her strum out her tunes when she had visited the Kingsleys over spring break. They were helpful but quite limited. At some point she really needed him to come to the rehearsal study for an entire day or two and spend it listening to the full band and offering suggestions. She talked to Teach about this as they drove back to Granada Hills following the session.

“I’ll talk to him about it on the flight home,” Laura promised. “I agree with you. We really need to get him involved a little bit to nail down some of the riffs and tempos.”

“Not to mention the flourishes and fills,” Celia added. “It’s amazing how much I just took for granted while working with him on all my past CDs.”

“He does have a head for music,” Laura said with a fond smile.

“He’s a freakin’ musical genius,” Celia said. “Up there with McCartney, Clapton, Elton John, even Beethoven and Bach.”

“Ahhh, Bach,” Laura said with a little smile.

“Huh?” Celia asked.

“Sorry, a MAS*H reference. Jake and I have been watching all the episodes on DVD during spring break and on the weekends.”

“I see,” Celia said, though she did not. She had never gotten into that show.

They had cut out of rehearsal early today, playing only until 3:00 PM. Laura had texted Jake and found that Intemperance had called it an early day as well. He was now on his way to SLO Regional for an earlier than normal pickup of the female members of his household. Celia helped Laura get her things together while Meghan made sure all of Caydee’s essentials were packed and ready. Everyone then gave their hugs and kisses to each other and Teach, Meghan, and Caydee all climbed into the F-150 for the drive to Whiteman Airport.

Celia decided to make a run for home as well. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet so the traffic would not be atrocious, merely terrible. She would fight her way through it and be home by 5:30 instead of waiting until after 7:00 to make the trip. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Ron, letting him know she would be home early today. She knew he was off call and would be eager to see her after six days without. He texted back that he was happy and told her he would be at her place around 6:00.

Sounds good, she texted back.

As she drove, she listened to her favorite progressive rock station (hearing one of her songs and one of Jake’s during the journey) and pondered the state of her sex life. She was now kind of glad that Teach had not taken her up on her offer (though not entirely glad). If they had done the deed she would be feeling incredibly guilty at this point. Probably not guilty enough to actually confess her deed to Ron like her idiot ex-husband had once done to her, but probably guilty enough to keep her awake and full of stress hormones.

Maybe it’s time to be a little more assertive about this thing, she thought. Sex is a two-way street, or at least it’s supposed to be. She had tried some gentle direction in the past and it had not been received well. Ron tended to behave like sex was a mission and he was the pilot-in-command; therefore, he gave the orders and they were not to be questioned. Maybe I’ll be the pilot-in-command tonight. Let’s see how that goes.

The evening was nice up until the point that Celia tried to be the PIC. Then it all fell apart. She showered as soon as she got home and put on a nice pair of slacks and a blouse. Ron arrived just as she finished getting ready. He was dressed nicely as well. They hugged and kissed each other and then drove in Celia’s Mercedes to one of the nicer restaurants in Malibu proper. They talked of their weeks over steak dinners and a few glasses of wine for Celia (and a few iced teas for Ron). Celia did not mention that she attempted to seduce Laura on her first night. She did tell some Caydee stories, however, none of which seemed to interest Ron all that much.

After dinner—Celia paid, as she did most of their dining out while Ron paid for most of their dining in—they went back to her place. Since they had pretty much exhausted all of the conversation they had for the week, it was not long before they were making out on the couch. When Ron slid his hand inside of her blouse and under her bra, she broke the kiss.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she told him.

“All right,” he said, removing his hand.

As soon as she shut the door behind them, Ron started stripping off his clothes, folding them neatly as he did so and then placing them on a bedside stand. He carefully tucked his black dress socks inside of his shoes. He slid his underwear down, folded them, and slipped them under the bottom of the clothes pile. His penis was partially erect. He had a wrapped condom in his hand. He set it carefully on the night stand next to the bed, positioned for easy acquisition when the time was right. He then turned toward Celia, his expression surprised when he saw that she was still fully dressed except for having removed her socks and shoes.

“Uh ... you’re not undressed,” he said, confused.

“That’s right,” she told him. “I thought it might be more fun if you undressed me tonight.”

“Me ... undress you?” he asked, seemingly thrown by this concept.

“Yeah,” she said with a sexy smile. “I think that would kind of turn me on.”

“Oh ... well ... okay, I guess,” he said doubtfully. He walked over to her and began to undo the buttons on her blouse one by one. He did it with no flair, just a simple mechanical task that needed to be completed. Once the blouse was removed, he neatly folded it and set it on her dresser. He then walked back over to her. “Turn around so I can unhook your bra.”

“It unhooks in the front,” Celia said softly.

“Oh ... I see.” He reached forward and found the clasp that held the cups together. After fumbling with it for a few seconds, he managed to open it. He then pulled the bra off over her shoulders and back. This too he took over to the dresser, neatly folded, and set down. He then returned to her position. “Are you able to get the pants and underwear on your own?” he asked.

She sighed. “Ron,” she told him, “the point of this exercise is not to simply remove my clothing. It’s to build up sexual tension between us, to have fun.”

“Why do we need to do that?” Ron asked. “We’re about to have sex with each other. Isn’t that enough sexual tension right there? The sooner and more efficiently we get to it, the quicker we get to the good part.”

Wow, Celia thought, amazed. I’m beginning to understand why his wife cheated on him. “It’s called foreplay, Ron,” she said. “And it can be lots of fun. Helps build things up for the final climax, as it were.”

“I know what foreplay it,” he said, exasperated. “It was what we were doing on the couch.”

“If doesn’t have to end on the couch,” she said.

“Ohhh ... I see what this is about,” he said slyly. “You want me to ... you know ... lick you down there a little first. I’m okay with that.”

“You’re... okay with that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I know you like it when I do that. I don’t mind.”

“You ... don’t mind,” she said slowly. “Do you enjoy doing that to me?”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m still trying to get used to the taste and the smell and all, but it’s not that bad. It is a little weird that you want to kiss me after I do that though.”

Another sigh. She was quickly losing her sexual interest. Her nipples were no longer hard and she could feel things drying up inside of her panties. “Well ... I don’t want you to think I’m weird or anything,” she said.

“I do like sucking on your breasts though,” Ron said. “They’re really nice breasts. How about I do that for a few minutes?”

“How about you don’t,” she countered.

“You just want to start doing it then?”

“No,” she said plainly, standing up and walking over to the dresser. “I want you to leave.”

“Leave?” he asked. “You mean ... you want me to sleep in another room?”

“Yes,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out a pajama top. “The room that is in your house. I want to be alone tonight.”

Ron was genuinely confused by her behavior. “Celia, what’s going on?” he asked. “I thought we were having a nice evening.”

“And I thought I might get some decent sex for once, but I was wrong about that,” she countered.

“You don’t like having sex with me?” he asked, bewildered.

“Apparently you don’t like having it with me,” she said. “You know, since I taste and smell bad and all.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “It just takes some getting used to.”

She put on the pajama top, buttoning it up. “You know I will never be able to ask you to do that again now that I know you don’t enjoy it,” she told him.

“I didn’t say I don’t enjoy it,” he protested, still standing there naked, his penis now deflating like a tire with a slow leak in it.

“That’s exactly what you said,” Celia said. “Put on your clothes, Ron. It’s time for you to go.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” he asked sternly, in his pilot voice.

“Really, Ron?” she asked, holding her ground, her Latin temper really starting to flare now. “Are you threatening me with violence?”

“Well ... no, I would never hit you, but I’m just saying that sometimes a man has to assert himself.”

“You have no problem doing that,” she said. “Sometimes a woman has to assert herself too. I am doing that now. Get your clothes on and get out. I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I’ve had time to sort through all of this in my mind.”

“But what about...”

“No,” she said, having no idea what he was about to ask about and not caring. She pointed to the neatly folded clothes. “Get dressed and get out.”

He got dressed. And then he got out. Celia sorted through it all in her mind.

He called her twice the next morning, once on her landline and once on her cell phone. She let the voicemail field both calls. After making and eating a simple egg sandwich—one of the few things she actually knew how to cook—she finally picked up her phone and dialed his number. He picked it up on the first ring.

“Are you okay this morning?” he asked.

“I am fine,” she replied.

“That’s good,” he said. “So ... last night was just like PMS or something?”

She gripped the handset a little tighter and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly. “No, it was not PMS,” she told him. “That was actually genuine, non-irrational emotion you produced in me last night. It has tempered a bit since I was able to play with a few of my toys after you left, but is still present and accounted for.”

“Toys?” he asked. “What toys? What are you talking about?”

“My God!” Celia exclaimed. “Haven’t you ever snooped around in my bedside drawer when I wasn’t there? What kind of a man are you?”

“What?!”

“Never mind,” she said. “We need to talk. Why don’t you drive over here and we’ll have a discussion about all of this.”

“We can’t talk about it on the phone?”

“No,” she said. “This is an in-person kind of discussion.”

“Uh ... okay,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” she said. She then hung up the phone.

He arrived at her house a little more than an hour later, letting himself in with the key she had given him. He found her sitting on the recliner in the entertainment room, un-reclined, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She was wearing a sports bra beneath the t-shirt as she planned to work out in her gym soon.

“Hey,” he said, heading for her position to give her a hug and a kiss.

“Hey,” she returned. She allowed him to hug and kiss her, though she kept the gestures as chaste as possible. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a seat on the couch next to the chair. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened last night.”

“Do you even know why I was upset?” she asked him pointedly.

“Uh ... well ... no, not exactly,” he said. “It seems like you are unhappy with the way we have sex, but ... well ... that’s nothing to fight about it is it? A relationship is much more than sex, right?”

“Right,” she said, “but sexual compatibility is one of the most important things in a romantic relationship. At least for me it is. You and I are not sexually compatible. Let’s start there.”

“Are you saying I’m bad in bed?” he asked, as if he had never considered such a thing.

“I’m not saying that at all,” she lied. “I’m saying that our sexual needs and desires are in two very different places. I like spontaneous, long, drawn-out sex with lots of kissing, lots of licking, lots of hands all over me, different positions, and even a few orgasms for me. You, on the other hand, like methodical, organized sex designed to get it over with as efficiently as possible.”

“Well ... yeah, that is true,” Ron admitted. “I have an engineering oriented mind. My goal in life is to find the most efficient way of doing any repetitive task.”

“And that’s what I’m talking about, Ron,” she said. “Sex is not a ‘repetitive task’, it’s sex. It’s supposed to be two people (or even three, her mind giggled to her) sharing their bodies and souls with each other, trying to give each other pleasure. It is not supposed to be a task. A task is something you are obligated to do, which implies you would rather not be doing it if you didn’t have to.”

“That is not what I mean by task,” he told her. “You know that.”

“Do I?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I very much enjoy having sex with you. You are beautiful.”

“Even though my taste and smell requires getting ‘used to’?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said.

“How else was I supposed to interpret that?” she asked.

“It was just a poor choice of words. I’m sorry.”

“The fact remains that we are sexually incompatible,” she said.

“How can I make the sex better for you?” he asked. “I’m willing to listen.”

“Are you?” she asked. “Are you willing to let me take charge and give you directions? To tell you how to lick my pussy in a manner and for the amount of time it requires for me to have an orgasm?”

“Uh ... well ... I really don’t like being told what to do in bed,” he said. “It’s kind of a pilot thing I think.”

“Then the answer is no,” she said.

“Well ... I mean ... what kind of directions are you talking about? And how long are you talking about?”

She sighed. “The directions,” she told him, “would be along the line of ‘lick there’, ‘suck there’, ‘use your fingers there’. As for time, with minimal foreplay, it generally takes about ten to fifteen minutes down there, making the right moves, to draw an orgasm out of your typical woman,” she told him.

“Ten to fifteen minutes?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“On average,” she said. “Subsequent orgasms take less time.”

“Subsequent orgasms?” This was clearly a foreign concept to him.

“Most women are multi-orgasmic if they have the right lover—or the right toys.”

“Wow,” he whispered. “That’s a lot of time to be down there. It’s hard to breathe when I’m doing that, you know.”

“That’s why God gave you a nose,” she told him. “If you have a cold and are stuffed up, you are excused from the activity.”

“If I breathe through my nose then the smell and the taste are both stronger,” he protested.

She sighed again. “Madre de Dios,” she whispered. “Look, Ron. It’s not just about the sex. It’s everything about us. We have nothing in common. You don’t even like my music, the thing I have dedicated my entire life and soul to.”

“I told you I like your music,” he said.

“Yes, you did,” she said, “but you don’t own a single one of my CDs and you don’t listen to radio stations that play my music. You don’t sing in the car or in the shower, even when your crappy country music is playing. Even Teach sings in the shower, for God’s sake! And she can’t sing! Believe me, she can’t!”

“You’ve heard Laura singing in the shower?” he asked, surprised. “How did that happen?”

“The recording studio house we used to stay in in Oregon is kind of tight quarters,” she said without missing a beat or feeling the least bit guilty. “That’s not important though. I’m considered one of the best singer-songwriters in the world. In the world, Ron, and you have never once asked me to sing or play my guitar for you. You have never once discussed any of my tunes with me, even if I tried to bring it up as a topic.”

“Uh ... well ... why don’t we talk about them now?” he suggested.

“What’s your favorite song that I perform?” she asked him.

“Ummm ... that one you do with the guitar,” he said after a moment’s thought.

“The one I do with the guitar? Every single one of my songs—four CDs worth—has a guitar in it.”

“I mean the one with the regular guitar,” he said. “The one where there’s another woman singing with you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?” he returned, confused.

“The name of the song is Why?,” she told him through gritted teeth. “If it’s your favorite, I expect you would know the name of it.”

“I’m not good with song titles,” he said. “I just know what I like.”

“Yeah,” she said after another sigh, “and I know what I like too.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“This isn’t working out between us, Ron,” she said softly, fighting to keep the anger and frustration out of her voice.

“Our relationship?” he asked, his eyes wide again.

“Our relationship,” she confirmed. “It’s not you, it’s me. I want more than you’re able to give. It’s not your fault. You are who you are and it’s not for me to try to change that. We have nothing in common and we’re incompatible in bed together. It’s time to put this thing to an end.”