Chapter 2: New Mexico

Ellen and I made love constantly when we weren’t on the motorcycle. A couple of times, we even pulled off the road at some scenic spot in west Texas or eastern New Mexico and made love. If we hadn’t cared much about each other when we started, we sure did by the time we reached Albuquerque. For two nights, we kept Crystal amused by texting her snapshots of the two of us in various stages of undress and pictures that blatantly proved our sexual activity. Crystal wasn’t shy about sending pictures of herself in what can best be described as compromising situations. Crystal, Ellen, and I had phone sex, the two of us coaching Crystal through her masturbation to an orgasm as the two of us fucked and described our erotic acts to her.

On our fourth morning together, I drove Ellen to the Albuquerque International Sunport, so she could take a flight back to Nashville. We were discrete in our goodbye on the sidewalk at the airport. The serious goodbye had happened behind closed doors at our motel a half-hour earlier. I looked longingly at Ellen from curbside until she vanished inside the airport. I felt a hole in my life now that she was gone, although I knew I’d see her again sometime soon.

The trip from the airport to Santa Fe took about an hour and took me past even more interesting terrain, including mesas and deep ragged gullies. I took the Interstate so I’d have more time at that day’s destination, the well-known artist community full of art galleries and a unique plaza full of specialty shops and sidewalk merchants. Sunset would be early, and while the daytime temperature had been around sixty, the Weather Channel forecast temperatures in the high twenties overnight. Softie that I’d become, I opted not to camp out.

Western scenery seems so foreign to a New Englander. You can see across the rolling hills for huge distances. There are few trees, but copious amounts of scrub brush. In the distance, you can see mountains and mesas and other geological formations absent in the northeast. Streams are modest, yet they flow in broad deep cuts through the landscape that signal severe runoff part of the year or after colossal thunderstorms. Cuts through the landscape or the sides of steep cliffs or mesas leave visible evidence of the earth’s formation in the hardened strata. Dinosaurs had roamed this landscape a hundred million years earlier after it had risen out of a prehistoric ocean.

I parked the motorcycle on the downtown plaza in Santa Fe. The radical differences with traditional east coast downtowns magnified for me as I stood on one corner of the plaza and looked around. The adobe buildings from decades earlier had survived modernization so that they still signaled the western, Anglo, Native American, and Spanish heritage of the region. At a welcome center, I picked up a map. I roamed from gallery to gallery, admiring the art that talked to my soul – paintings, sculpture, rugs and tapestries, and jewelry. I wanted it all. Outside the shops on the plaza, yet beneath a broad protective overhang, dozens of merchants displayed their handiwork – jewelry and crafts were spread out on blankets on the ground or folding tables.

Turquoise jewelry on one table especially caught my eye. I’d seen hundreds of other pieces, but these were intricate and exceptionally done. For myself, I picked out a belt buckle, watchband, necklace, and a ring, all silver with a delicate filigree and an artistic inlay of perfectly chosen turquoise stones that balanced with the silver. For the women in my life, I picked out pins, belt buckles, rings, necklaces, and some headbands and combs of the same beautiful caliber.

As I finished choosing my gifts, I looked to see where I should pay for the jewelry. The door to the silversmith opened, and a gorgeous dark-skinned woman came out wearing an artistic top, skirt, and moccasins that signaled ‘Native American.’ She greeted me with a pretty smile, “Have you completed your shopping? May I help you further? There are a few more pieces inside.”

Here was the most beautiful distinction to the southwest. I instantly became spellbound. She was tall and lean, with jet-black hair down her back to her waist that had a luster to it that only heritage and care could give. Her facial features were angular with beautiful smooth dark skin and high cheekbones. Her deep dark eyes watched me studying her until I broke eye contact, slightly embarrassed for staring. She broke into a smile, and I caught a flash of pearl white teeth behind her lush lips. She radiated warmth to the world.

I told her I’d finished shopping, passing the wicker shopping basket of items to her. She looked surprised that I had picked out so many things. I studied her face as she reviewed each item, carefully peeling the price tag from each, and noting on a carbon invoice what the purchase had been. She looked up at me several times, each time catching me studying her beauty.

As though she read my mind she said, “I’m Tama, and before you ask, I’m Native American or Indian, if you prefer. My name means ‘Beautiful Thunderstorm,’ but you’ll figure that out the longer you know me. I’m Navajo – one hundred percent. I made all the jewelry you’re buying; it’s my avocation and vocation – I love the creative outlet.” Her voice sounded like a thousand angels singing. I was smitten.

At the risk of insulting her, I said, “You’re beautiful. I wish I had a picture, but I shall remember you forever.” I instantly thought how corny that sounded, but did nothing to retract the statement.

She laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in weeks – maybe years. Thank you, and you’re not too bad looking yourself cowboy ... and, if you want, we could get our picture taken together by someone. Somehow, I know you’d always look back at it and remember this moment. What do you say cowboy?” She teased with a broad smile.

Now, I was the one who laughed, for there I stood in my ruddy western boots, faded jeans, a checkered shirt, and a crumpled western hat. I did look as though I’d been an extra in some John Wayne movie or other oater. As I laughed, she laughed again. I could tell a special rapport had already developed between us.

I arranged with her to ship most of the jewelry to Anna. I carried little of value on the motorcycle except my travel guitar, and didn’t want to worry about jewelry. When I got to California, I could arrange to appropriately gift the items I’d bought to Crystal, Ellen, Tina, Anna, Lauren, Kim, and a few special others I’d met along my road trip.

The late afternoon sun and the buildings nearby left this part of the plaza in long shadows. Few people roamed nearby as the air got a new chill. We completed the expensive credit card transaction. Tama put the new watchband on my watch, and the belt buckle on a new polished brown belt I’d chosen. I wanted to wear each of those items as well as a masculine looking necklace and ring I’d bought. Tama looked pleased that I liked her work so much. As she worked on the items, I raved about her other work, even picking out several more pieces I hadn’t seen earlier. For some reason, I made sure Tama knew that the shipping address was my sister.

As I turned to reluctantly leave, she touched my arm, holding me for a minute. I turned and gazed into her beautiful eyes. She fixed me with a long penetrating stare. We locked eyes and she stared into my innermost being. After a full minute during which we were motionless, she continued to touch me and her eyes got glassy. Eventually, she said, “You have been in pain, it is healing and soon you’ll have only good memories and feelings. You have replaced one lost love with more than one – several. You know of loss, love, intimacy, and...” She paused, and added in a whisper, “Sexuality. You have taken a new direction in your life – maybe a new job? You are on a journey, an important trip, and you are nearing the end. You’re postponing some decisions until you complete your journey, but whatever you decide will yield a good outcome – even if you decide not to do anything.” Tama suddenly shook her head, and looked away, as though to regain her perspective on the plaza.

I turned to face her. I asked, “Did you read the magazines and newspapers about me?”

She gave me a puzzled look, “No,” she said, “should I know you?” She dropped her hand from my arm.

Her confusion looked genuine. I modestly said, “In some places, I’m becoming increasingly well known. I thought you might have recognized me.”

She put her hand out in a firm handshake that almost commanded response and said, “I am Tama Nizhoni. Now, you must tell me who you are.” Her smile demanded a response.

I held her hand in both of mine, “I am Jim Mellon.” I paused, and there wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition of the name in her eyes. I went on, “I am a new country music singer, and I have a new album – my first album. I do many songs with Crystal Lee. I think we’re very popular.” Again, there was just a blank look. I asked, “Do you listen to music?”

She said in an embarrassed tone, “I’m terrible about that. I do listen, but I pay no attention to who’s singing or even the names of the songs. So, I’m sorry but I don’t recognize you or your name. I apologize.” She blushed.

“Oh, please don’t apologize. I’m trying to keep from developing an ego about this singing business. So many people in the industry seem to have egos about the size of a city block.” I thought for a moment and then returned to the statements she’d made that took our conversation off in this direction. “Your comments before – about me – where’d they come from? What made you tell me about loss, intimacy, and all? Are you a fortune teller?”

She hesitated and looked down and away from me. In a low voice she said, “I am a seer ... a shaman. I ‘get’ messages about some people – only a very few. Usually, they’re people who are supposed to come into my life for some reason, or I am to come into theirs. I don’t understand this gift. It’s strange and sometimes scares me.”

“Say more,” I encouraged her, now curious about her gift.

“As you started to walk away, I felt compelled to explain that I just had a ‘flash’ about you. I had seen inside you, and in that minute, I knew a lot about you. Oh, not the details as if I know your big secrets, but I read the emotions you’ve felt recently ... and don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, I promise, but you’ve got to tell me whether I was right or close to being right.”

I nodded and said, “You are very right. Scary right.”

“Will you share the details with me? These skills are somewhat new to me – they matured in only the last couple of years, and they aren’t there every day. Tell me the reasons for those feelings and why those feelings came to me?” She thought for a moment and added, “Oh, dear. I’m being terribly presumptive. You want your privacy, and I’ve just invaded it. I’m sorry.” She backed away from me.

I chuckled at her concern. I knew that as I became more of a public figure, my privacy would all but disappear. The dying rays of the sun made me look at my watch; it was almost six o’clock. I said, “Let me buy you dinner or a drink or a cup of coffee, and I’ll tell you some details. What time does the store close?” I gestured to her store.

She smiled again, and said in an excited tone, “Whenever I want, it’s my business. Just let me close-up.” She left and returned with a large box. She carefully lifted each tray of jewelry from the battered sidewalk table and placed it in the box, stacking them one atop another. After she removed a dark blue tablecloth the scarred top of the plywood table was revealed. Tama took the box inside the shop, came out a few minutes later, and locked the door. She made a gesture, as in ‘What way should we go?’

I shrugged and said, “I just got here this afternoon; I don’t know the restaurants. You must be the expert living here?” I paused and added, “Oh, and I need a hotel for the night.”

Tama pointed across the plaza to a building with a discrete sign proclaiming ‘La Fonda on the Plaza.’ She said, “There’s your hotel, and they have a good chef in their restaurant as well.” We slowly walked in that direction, and she played tour guide to the sights around us.

A few minutes later I’d checked into the hotel, and we had a dinner reservation. I explained that I wanted to get the luggage from my motorcycle before we ate. Her eyebrows went up at my mode of travel. Maybe now she understood the ‘cowboy’ style of my clothing. She patiently waited in the lobby while I moved my bike behind the hotel, locked the helmets to the bike, and brought my gear in on a hotel trolley: saddlebags, helmets, three duffle bags, and my travel guitar. As I walked by her pushing the cart, she looked intrigued. She gave me another bright smile.

Over wine and tapas, I told her about my life story, and how it related to what she’d ‘seen’; my wife’s death, the road trip, Kim, Summer, Crystal, the others, and my entry into country music, plus even the affectionate feelings I had for her.

Tama asked, “But I felt you had multiple loves now – was I wrong?”

I stammered slightly, “Well, I have several women I like...”

Quick as a flash, Tama interrupted, “No, you love them ... a few – to some many. Others you are close to loving, but in a different way ... with a different intensity.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth, than she jerked her hand up to her mouth in a gesture of embarrassment. She slowly said, “I’m sorry. I must learn to hide my gift instead of just blurting out what I see or feel as it comes.”

I reached beside me in our dinner booth and held her hand. The moment seemed romantic at that instant: our deep eye contact, our touching, the light jazz of a piano player in a corner of the dining room, the dim and intimate atmosphere of the nearly empty restaurant.

I said, “Tama, you are right ... and please don’t hide what you see or know.” As an afterthought I asked, “You’ve indicated you can see the past. Can you also see the future?”

Tama nodded. “This place is too distracting, and I should warn you I’m unpredictable ... or rather, when I ‘see’ something about someone, there’s no knowing whether it’s accurate or not. Let’s find a quiet place after dinner, and I’ll see whether I see anything about your future.”

I spoke and said with a warm smile, “Well, I can see the future too ... and I see us dancing out there with the other couples in about sixty seconds.” Tama laughed, and accepted my hand as I helped her out of our booth and onto the dance floor. She was comfortable and easy to dance with. She read my dance steps perfectly, and I’m no Fred Astaire. For certain, as we danced, we liked being in each other’s arms. When we saw our entrée arrive, we had to stop. We affectionately held hands as we walked back to the table.

After dinner, we walked into the lobby of the hotel. I asked, “Where would you like to do my reading – about my future; the town square?”

She shivered at the thought; “The temperatures drop really fast in these mountains – you’re a mile-and-a-half above sea level here. It’s down in the thirties outside by now. How about your room? You haven’t had time to mess it up too badly yet, have you?” She teased.

She was correct that I hadn’t had an opportunity to clutter up the room, except for dropping the things from my motorcycle on the floor. We meandered through the hotel to my room.

Tama looked around and spied a radio beside the large bed. She walked over and tuned in a station playing Native American flute music. The sounds were restful, peaceful, and meditative. She adjusted the volume so the tones were barely audible. She dimmed the lights so that only a light from a bath nightlight lit the room. The room felt intimate and close.

“Jim, you lie down and shut your eyes. Stay conscious and aware, though. No sleeping!”

I did as she instructed. Tama sat beside me and laid her hand on my chest. I watched her briefly, and she closed her eyes and listened. I shut my eyes and tried to clear my mind, a practice I had developed when I’d learned to meditate.

Several minutes went by with only the melodious sounds from the radio filling the void. I focused on the comfortable wavering sounds of the flute. I went into a trance, not asleep, for I could hear the music, and I was aware. I could feel vibrations between Tama’s and my body, like an electric current flowing between my chest and her hand as though we were trading secrets and feelings.

Tama spoke in a near whisper; the tone of her voice tentative and halting. “You will finish your long trip with a happy feeling – a feeling of completeness and wholeness. The pain and emptiness you feel because of your wife’s passing is going away now; it will become a remembrance of love before the end of your trip. Issues you’ve had with her won’t matter any further, even though you may learn about other interesting things she did.”

After a pause she continued, “There’s something about ashes – I don’t understand. OH! She ... Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” I opened my eyes as though struck; even in the dim light I could see the tracks of tears on Tama’s cheek. “She is grateful that you still think of her, but she doesn’t want you to grieve any longer. She wants us ... wait ... I’ll come back to that.” Tama’s voice cracked, as though she was on the verge of crying.

She let another minute go by before continuing. I watched her pretty face as it concentrated in some unearthly dimension. “You have someone following you – a white man. He is mean ... nasty ... and a real threat. He is dangerous and may hurt you. You must be vigilant. Do not hesitate to respond.”

After a long silence Tama went on, “You have other women to meet. Some you already know, and they will reappear in your life in surprising and joyful ways.” After a pause, she said, “You won’t marry soon, but you will make deep commitments to the people you love – one particularly. You will have unusual and good relationships. Your sexuality is ... strong; it is a vital part of who you are.” She paused, and I wondered about her vision on that subject.

Tama’s eyes popped open and she looked at me. “You will become a father several months from now. The baby is ... will be healthy ... a boy baby. Do you know this?”

I nodded, “Yes, but not that the baby would be a boy.”

Tama’s eyes closed again. I felt her hand push hard against my chest. “Jim, your new career will ... far exceed your expectations. Through it, you will find ways to help others that you don’t know about yet – many others. You will be a leader. You will find ways to save others, possibly including someone dear to you after a troublesome time. There are talents and abilities you are just now starting to find; you will hone them as you continue your spiritual journey.”

After a long silence, I felt Tama lean across the bed and kiss me. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed back. She said softly, “I see no more for now. I might see more later; I’ll tell you if I do. I get flashes and then breaks and then more flashes sometimes.”

I sat up, and held Tama’s hand, stroking her palm with my fingers in a sensuous manner. “You hesitated on something about my sexuality; what was that about?”

She kissed me again, an unusual move given we’d met only a few hours earlier, yet so consistent with what we both apparently felt. “I saw a great deal about your past and future sexuality in that instant ... and before dinner. You are talented and creative in this part of your life.” She smiled slightly embarrassed.

I stroked the brown skin along Tama’s face and long neck, and she went on, gauging my reaction in the dim light. I briefly thought she’d started to purr as she leaned her head into my hand. “You have sometimes judged yourself in harsh terms about your sexuality. Your values in this area have changed dramatically in a short period of time – become more forgiving and liberal.”

I nodded, amazed at her insight, and she continued. “You worry about yourself when you measure yourself with your old values, yet you have done nothing wrong and deep inside you may know this. You are now seeing yourself as a sexual creature, and now appreciating the pleasure and delight sex gives you and your partners; do not make it otherwise for yourself. Sex, affection, and love are forces for good. Don’t buy into others’ opinions that tell you otherwise. Don’t change your new directions in this area of your life.”

I nodded to encourage her to continue. She looked into my eyes and even in the dim light I felt she could see into my soul, “You are caring and mindful of your partners, always yearning to create positive experiences for them. You think of them from a spiritual base. This is the place to put your self-judgment, not on your ... voracious ... appetite for sex or ... on the proliferation of partners you have mutually shared sexual joy with. Allow yourself to treat sex as desirable, a way to bring happiness and joy to others – as well as yourself, and for the intimacy that the erotic acts arouse.” She shook her head almost as though the words had come through her instead of from her.

I allowed a brief silence and asked another question in a hushed tone, “Did you hear my wife – my dead wife – speak? You reacted strangely at one point.”

Tama looked deep into my eyes. “Yes, briefly, sort of. I didn’t ‘hear’ her speak; I felt the messages or words she wanted to impart to you through me. She is happy – elated even. I could feel it. It touched me deeply – the deepest I’ve ever felt something like that. She wanted you to know that she is in a better place – the best place, and that you two will interact again. There was something about ashes too – her ashes?”

“Yes. You couldn’t have known that. I’ve been spreading a small amount of her ashes in each state I’ve visited. It’s become a ceremony for me, a way of grieving and a way of keeping her memory alive.”

Tama nodded. “I had the feeling she liked what you were doing.”

“She wanted us to do something?” I asked innocently.

“Yes,” Tama said hesitantly. “She wanted us to make love. Her spirit touches your spirit when you love consciously. She has been the inspiration or muse for many of your relationships.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “I wondered.”

Tama used both hands to touch my chest, and then to begin unbuttoning my shirt. Between each button, she leaned forward and kissed me. Her lips seemed so sensuous. I rubbed my lips against hers, just for the erotic sensation. She liked that.

After the next button became unlatched, our tongues met in a delicate duel between our kisses. Tama liked it when I ran my tongue across her closed lips, gently stimulating her. Our breaths became heavier.

The next button popped open by her fingers. I reached across and ran one of my fingers down her neck into the cleavage her western shirt afforded. As I stroked her upper chest, we got into longer and deeper kisses. The two of us were now a runaway train, without a hope to stop anything that might follow. If Karen orchestrated this, perhaps she was expressing her love for me through this gorgeous Native American woman. I felt a whole atmosphere of love surrounding me – us – filling the room.

Soon, my shirt had been opened completely. I shrugged the garment off my shoulders. Tama ran her fingers across the muscles in my chest, making them ripple in response to her stimulation. She held her hands still on my chest as though she was listening again.

She whispered between kisses, “Something tells me I will really enjoy the next few hours with you.” We kissed deeply, and each succeeding kiss became increasingly more passionate and compelling to the act we both desired.

I unlaced the rawhide ties holding the front of her top together. Before I finished, she stopped me and pulled the piece over her head in one smooth motion. She wore no bra. Even in the dim light, I could see the contrast of her brown skin and my Caucasian whiteness, even with my tan. Her areolas were dark and inviting; her breasts full and high. Her body epitomized beauty and love. I couldn’t resist; I reached up with both hands and gently fondled her full breasts. Before I even started both nipples were rigidly erect. She said, “Kiss them. Lick and suck them. Bite them. Make me know that you are real and not a shaman’s dream.” I followed her instructions perfectly.

After a few minutes of our petting, Tama stood in front of me. She carefully undid the ties that held her skirt together, and allowed the pleated garment to fall to the floor around her. She kicked off her demi-boots, and stood proudly nude before me with her arms reaching forward in a loving manner.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ran one finger from between her breasts in a curvy line down her body and into the darkness of her untrimmed dark pubic hair, feeling the cleft of her sex. I rubbed my finger against where I thought her clitoris should be. Tama’s head rolled back, and she groaned in response to the sudden pleasure. I repeated my track several times.

I stood, and she eagerly worked to remove my boots and then my pants and briefs. She became satisfied only when the two of us stood naked and face-to-face only inches apart. We each allowed one finger to trace out interesting contours of the other’s body.

In a low voice, she asked, “What happened here? This looks like a fresh wound.”

“I was shot a few months ago in Alabama. Four men had just started to rape a young woman, and I stopped it. One of them pulled a gun and shot me; the bullet went through me.”

She looked surprised, but went on; “And here? Another bullet?” she asked.

“I planted some explosives on a bridge in a foreign country during a war. Before I could get far enough away, they detonated. I got hit by a piece of shrapnel.”

“And here?” she asked at another scar on my chest.

“I had to fight someone ... a very bad person. He had bodyguards. One of them had a pistol.” I pointed to another wound, “I got shot here too. I had rescued a hostage in a Middle Eastern country, and we almost made a clean get away.”

I paused and said, “Tama, I was in the Army – Special Operations. I did many distasteful things, and almost all of them I now deplore. I see the world differently. I have found that if you view the world as full of threats, then every day you will have to deal with threats; if you view the world as loving, then there are many loving experiences to enjoy.”

“My people have learned the same lessons the hard way, as well,” Tama said. She reached down and fondled my tumescent cock, pulling on its length, and rubbing the rod between her two hands.

I fondled her breasts with one hand, and had started to massage the nub I felt rising from its hooded hiding place with my other hand. We kissed over and over again, now all pretext at conversation lay behind us.

I maneuvered Tama to the edge of the bed, and gently pushed her back so she reclined with her femininity fully exposed to me. I knelt between her legs, and with the tip of my tongue raced in a zig-zag path along her thighs and into her sex. My tongue found what my fingers had discovered moments earlier. Tama nearly expired in those few seconds when I first touched her orally. Her breath became short, she moaned wildly, and pleaded with me to stop ... and then to never stop. She’d grab my head and force me to stop, and then push me to start again with greater intensity. I fingered her cunt as I sucked at her sex and tongued deep into her body.

Tama came in torrents. Orgasm followed orgasm as I pleasured her pussy. Several times, she emitted a rich fluid that tasted like a divine wine. Tama pushed me away, and took command of our lovemaking. I found myself on my back, in a sixty-nine position with her on top. I could continue to lap at her cunt, but now she engulfed my shaft with her mouth to return the pleasure. I had to concentrate to use Tantric techniques so that I didn’t climax.

Tama decided when it was time for me to penetrate her body with mine. Her breasts conveniently came near my face, lips, and tongue. She bounced and roiled and writhed above me as we started. I changed our position several times, seeking increased stimulation for Tama’s body. I helped her crest to more orgasms over the next twenty minutes before I joined her by exploding the fluids from my core into her body.

I lay atop her body for a moment and then moved to remove my weight from her. “Don’t move,” she exhorted. “I want to feel you on top of me, to enjoy your maleness more, even though we’re not fucking ... not making love for a moment. I like your weight; you’re not too heavy.” I stayed, and we kissed and licked at each other. Occasionally, I would move and surge my tumescent maleness still in her body just to briefly recall the passion we’d just shared. Soon, however, all that stimulation of remaining in her body caused my cock to harden again, and soon we were making love again without having ever separated.

This time, after our orgasms, I rolled onto the bed beside her, pulled her partly onto my body as we remained coupled. She told me, “You have supernatural sexual powers. No one has ever loved this Mystic the way you have. I have never cum like this ... so many times and with such intensity. I never want to stop.” She kissed me passionately, her mouth trying to devour me.