Chapter 11

My bladder is the perfect alarm clock. The urgent need to go dragged me out of hibernation as the night sky brightened in advance of dawn. I awoke to the gentle sound of Sheila’s breathing. Nude, beautiful, and warm, she lay next to me in the relaxed innocence of sleep. Sheila sensed a change in my position, shifted her body, and pressed her bare bottom into my groin as we snuggled together under the covers. My hand remained cupped to her breast. Sheila placed her hand over mine and pulled it tight to her body as she slept.

We cuddled together in blissful warmth. I wanted to stay under the sheets forever, but I needed to take a piss. With a bad case of morning wood, my erection found a home between the hills of Sheila’s fanny. As pleasant as it felt, I wouldn’t be able to stop my body from unleashing a flood if I didn’t get out bed soon. Wetting the bed wasn’t an option.

I untangled myself from Sheila and silently slipped out of bed into the chill of the morning air. I adjusted the blankets to cover Sheila’s exposed shoulder and made tracks for the bathroom. I decided to make a quick getaway instead of using the facilities in her room to avoid an awkward encounter after a night in which nothing happened. I almost made it to the door when Sheila’s sleepy voice called my name.

“Where are you going, Dennis?”

“Gotta pee,” I mumbled.

“Excellent idea; hang on, and I’ll join you.” Sheila threw the quilt back and climbed out of bed.

“We might as well take a shower since we’re already up,” the leader said as she tossed me towels and soap from the closet.

Three members of the kitchen crew hard at work preparing breakfast were the only other people up and about in the hour before sunrise. We owned the empty showers and had them to ourselves.

We dried each other after our morning scrub, and Sheila suggested, “Let’s head down to the kitchen and score some hot coffee.”

The custom of indoor nudity might make more sense if we were born kangaroos with built-in pockets. I stopped by my room to make up for my genetic deficiency, put an unbuttoned flannel shirt on, stuck a pack of smokes and a lighter in the breast pocket, and joined Sheila in the kitchen.

Coffee is the nectar of the gods and Colombia’s only legal drug export. It is also a natural lubricant, allowing us to slide from slumber to wakefulness with a minimum amount of friction. Java in hand, Sheila led me to a cozy nook beside the hearth in the Great Room, and we sat together next to the blaze.

“I want to talk to you about last night,” Sheila said, as she sniffed her brew.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” I responded.

“Tell me something, I know I turned you on. Why didn’t you have sex with me?” Sheila’s concerned eyes blinked with curiosity.

Her question was both delicate and dangerous. The wrong answer could do damage to our friendship, but I had no idea of what she thought the correct response should be. I followed my grandfather’s advice: “If all else fails, and you can’t think of a good lie, tell the truth.”

I set my coffee down on the fireplace hearth, took Sheila’s hands in mine, and looked into her eyes as I spoke truthfully. “Your body said one thing, but your words were saying something different last night. I listened to the wishes of your body. You weren’t ready to be that intimate with me.”

“True, but I would’ve consented if you had persisted,” she acknowledged, as she gave my hands a soft squeeze.

“I figured you would allow intercourse if I pushed it. You would be resentful. Nevertheless, it would be a lousy start to our relationship. I would have selfishly screwed you to the floor if I only thought about my own gratification,” I admitted with a guilty grin.

“I’ll take your friendship if I have to choose between being a friend or your lover, if I can’t have both,” I further explained.

My father used to tell me the best way to learn the thoughts of another is to ask a direct question, shut up, and listen to the answer. “What about what happened, or didn’t happen last night?” I cooled my coffee with my breath.

“At first I was relieved when you asked for my permission, then I was pissed. I was confused after that. I was happy in the end. Maybe you didn’t think me desirable enough, or maybe you didn’t like me enough for sex. I felt safe, loved, and cared for when you held me in your arms and stayed the night.” Sheila whispered as she gave me a hug wrapped in a smile.

Silence filled the pleasant space between us as our conversation slowed to a stop. The colony’s leader took a sip of coffee and studied me over the rim of her coffee mug for several moments.

“You’re a strange man, Mr. Richards. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

Our zone of silence gradually evaporated as the sisters of the colony drifted into the kitchen for breakfast in ones and twos.

“Refill your coffee and grab a seat; we’ve got a group meeting in fifteen minutes,” Sheila announced as she excused herself to prepare for the assembly.

I marched to the kitchen, looking for fresh coffee. Ready or not, a new day was getting underway.

One fundamental law of the universe: staff meetings seldom begin on time. The Society’s assembly was no exception. Significant numbers of sisters hadn’t taken a seat at the conference table. Start time came and went as Sheila kept glancing at her wristwatch and scanning the faces of the attendees for missing members.