Chapter 13

Like Adrien Brody’s short-lived fame for The Piano, my moral rectitude faded fast; that night, in fact.

Amelia entered the bedroom wearing a simple spaghetti strap white camisole and matching string bikini panties, her midriff bare. I’d never seen the outfit, but, simple or not, it was very sexy; too sexy. Was it me, or was she truly blossoming into a sensual female?

Rufus struggled to jump onto the bed; probably weighed down with flagstone.

Amelia pulled the sheet down, slipped onto the bed, on her side, and looked at me, slightly shy, exotic eyes questioning. We hadn’t discussed our kiss in the pool, but it hovered between us. I noticed a host of new things: her small breasts clearly defined and still pert even when on her side facing me; the sensual dip to her waist and rise to her prominent hip bone; the swell of her petite bottom and shape of her thighs; the way those panties outlined the erotic mound of her pussy so perfectly; the camel toe where cotton pressed at her cleft; and a sensual gap just below.

My response was visceral, again, blood flowing south. All moral rectitude collapsed when faced with such sexy beauty and it felt liberating. Smiling, I reached out and fluffed her rough-shorn hair before curling it behind a delicate ear.

Amelia smiled.

I rolled towards her and drew her into my arms, her scent of orange blossoms filling my nose, her beautiful eyes capturing me. It felt right. I felt like she belonged in my arms. The attraction I had for her felt both familiar and exciting. She fit me, physically and emotionally. She completed me.

“What changed?” I asked.

Amelia pressed herself against me. “I decided the old man was right. You’re my lobster.”

Confused, I asked, “What old man? Right about what? And what’s a lobster got to do with anything?”

Amelia started talking. A chill went down my spine as she told me about an older man visiting her in school, how he’d helped her to find her voice again, how her singing would bring her to me, how we were destined to be together. She talked about not believing him, about not being in love with me at first, and how she’d changed.

“You’re my lobster, Mike,” she ended.

“Was the man called Darren Faith?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

I had no more doubts, none. My future had been preordained and, it seemed to me, I had been gifted for some unfathomable reason. Looking at her, I was absolutely sure there was no one else I’d ever want in my life.

“What’s with the lobster?” I asked, caressing her back.

“Lobsters mate for life.” She added with a grin and twinkling eyes, “See? I did learn something other than music!”

“So did I,” I informed her, moving close, face to face, inhaling each other’s breath.

She smiled again and rubbed the tip of her small nose against mine. “Eskimo kisses. I learned that in school, too,” she said softly with a light giggle.

I adored her charm. Her giggle faded away when I kissed her, and once again I experienced the joy and sensuality of intimacy with Amelia; something I was sure I’d never tire of.

Soft lips touched mine, pressure growing. Amelia’s endlessly expressive eyes twinkled as the tip of her tongue took the lead, touching my lips. Her eyes closed as my tongue met hers. She moaned quietly, a soft, loving purr, and, as her mouth opened, I fell into that vortex of desire. Kissing Amelia was so exciting. My hand slipped down to cup her panty-covered bottom and I discovered it’s gorgeous shape. Soft panties slipped over sensual mounded buttocks, my hand fitting one perfectly. The we’re delectable, rounded perfection, and so arousing. My body reacted, an erection slowly forming between us. Amelia’s tongue paused briefly, and then she pressed her body against it, the feel of her soft stomach strengthening my erection.

The kiss ended. I was breathless, heart beating hard. Gorgeous eyes opened. She smiled shyly and touched my lips with the pad of her index finger.

“I like kissing you,” she whispered.

I smiled. “I love kissing you.”

We kissed and necked, a sexy activity. I thoroughly enjoyed sucking on her plump lower lip, and I adored cuddling with her. It was the first night I fell asleep with Amelia in my arms.

We woke up to morning light and Rufus throwing up, a gagging, hurling sound.

Amelia bolted upright. “What’s wrong, Rufus?” She crawled to the foot of the bed and peered down. “Mike! There’s something wrong with Rufus! He’s vomited.”

“Stones?” I wasn’t worried. Dogs frequently eat things that upset their stomachs.

“Last night’s dinner ... and some stones.”

“So don’t worry. Come back to bed and give me a kiss.”

Amelia smiled and crawled back towards me as I stretched on my back. Still in her white camisole and string bikini panties, the top drooped open and gave me a flash of small, delicate breasts with dark pink areolae and tiny nipples.

Desire flushed though me; warm heat and intense yearning. Amelia was so sexy, so pretty. She paused when the sheet twitched at my groin. Mystical light stole into her eyes. She smiled, as if satisfied.

To me, Amelia was a different person now. It was like John Bishop, a close friend in my teens. He’d been tough and daring, game for anything. Yet, one incident exposed his homophobia; a nasty trait I’d never been aware of. From that moment on, everything he did was shed in a new light; his behavior no longer tough, but mean-spirited and bigoted. I’d dropped him like a hot potato. Amelia had changed. My awareness of her sensuality had forever altered my perception of her. Now, I noticed her small seductions, her shy, hesitant moves towards me, the intimacy she was hinting at in the hope that I’d respond. She was revealing herself to be a wonderful girl full of newfound attraction and I was her happy target.

As she reached me, I drew her to me. She settled half on and half off me. I felt the pressure of her young breasts on me, her delicate weight, the warmth of a young girl. She smiled as my hand cupped a gorgeous panty-covered ass, the other on her back.

I didn’t miss how, as she kissed me softly, her knee eased up my legs to settle over the lump of my erection. I couldn’t control its response; a strong flex. Amelia’s eyes closed. Her mouth opened, and yet again, I found myself in a deeply sensual kiss, so very arousing. Another thrill hit me when Amelia pressed her pussy against my side, a clear sign of her arousal, and I was helpless. I moved my hand off her bottom and up her side. Kissing her deeply, erection straining under the sheet, I cupped her delicate breast over her cotton camisole and shuddered. It was my first intimate touch of Amelia, my first touch of a fourteen-year-old girl transforming through adolescence, and it was an incredible experience; her breast so petite, firm, so intensely feminine. My hand was far too large, her breast far too small, yet I couldn’t remember being so excited. It was illicit and thrilling.

Amelia trembled slightly at my touch. Her tongue talked, telling me she liked my intimate caress, how excited she was. She murmured into my mouth, her fresh breath wafting against my cheek. Kissing her was so incredibly sexy.

Disorienting arousal, like a sea fog, rolled towards me, slowly enveloping me with dreams of full intimacy; Amelia my lover. In my mind’s eye I saw us together; a slender young girl naked against me. My erection pulsed with excitement.

Rufus gagged loudly and vomited, completely ruining the mood.

The kiss ended. “There’s something wrong with Rufus,” Amelia said, her eyes full of worry, all heat now gone.

With a sigh, we separated. I sat up and peered over the foot of the bed. Rufus was licking the bare hardwood floor like it was an ice cream cone, two piles of undigested dinner next to him. He turned and looked at me, his eyes so expressive. There was no happy grin, just a weak tail wag, an “I’m sorry, Mike, but I don’t feel good.”

Now concerned, I reassured him, “I think we”ll take you to the vet, just to be sure. Okay?”

Rufus wagged his tail slightly and went back to washing the floor.

Two hours later, Amelia and I waited in the examining room at Beverly Hills Animal Clinic, a one-story tan stucco, faux Spanish-style building off Sunset Boulevard.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Amelia asked with worry in her eyes.

If she could have carried the fifty-pound puppy, she would have. I had that honor, and, while holding him in my arms as we entered the clinic, I realized, I, too, had grown to love him.

“He’ll be fine,” I assured her.

“I wonder what’s wrong with him?”

“A belly full of stones, I’d bet.”

Dr. Jameson, a slender young man who looked as if he’d graduated high school only last week, entered the examining room carrying an x-ray. He smiled. “Well, I think we’ve found the problem.”

He slipped the x-ray onto a light box and pointed. “This is the problem.”

I stared at the point of his finger. Amelia leaned in, too. All I saw was a bright, white, blank spot, like a hole in the x-ray, and unidentifiable shapes in shades of gray around it.

Tapping the x-ray, he said, “This is sitting in Rufus’ stomach. We’re not sure what it is, but it’s metallic. Can you see how bright it is? That’s a sign of metal. Has he eaten anything?”

Dr. Jameson looked at us. I shrugged. “Not that much. The flagstone patio, a pair of shoes ... Stuff like that.”

“And part of the pool noodle,” Amelia added. “And Mike’s Smartphone.” After some thought she added, “And several sheets of music, and twigs, and a bathroom sponge.”

Dr. Jameson smiled with amusement. “He’s a puppy. He’ll eat anything. You should train him not to. Anyway, we’re going to put him under a general anesthetic and see if we can remove that metal object through his esophagus. But,” he warned, “if it’s too large, we’ll have to operate on him to remove it. Hopefully, that won’t be the case.” Noticing Amelia’s forlorn look, he placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. It’s not serious. Rufus will be as right as rain in a couple of days.”

“When will you operate?” Amelia asked.

“This afternoon. I’ll call you and let you know how it goes and you can pick him up late tomorrow.”

A subdued Amelia responded with a quiet, “Kay.”

She was silent on the way home, at one point asking, “He’s not going to die, is he?”

When I heard morose piano music coming from the living room, I decided distraction was in order. I’d take her to Rodeo Drive.

Later, while strolling and window shopping, Amelia not that interested, her iPhone trilled a musical number. She answered. Her smoky gray eyes lit up behind frameless glasses. A smile emerged that brought sunshine to her face. I watched her whole posture change; shoulders straightening, spine stiffening, and a lightness return to her steps.