Panama

I woke up to a tickling sensation of Kelly’s luscious blond hair against my nose. I was happy, and very warm, her thin, youthful, and soft body draped halfway over me on my left side, her gentle, warm and slightly sour breath lightly flowing across my face. I could learn to wake up to this.

That’s the problem. Over the many years I had come to love too many women. I know I qualify to many as a womanizer, and I guess strictly I am. But I deeply love each of these women, personally and individually. Not for their bodies, but for their person. Cheryl’s warmth, Kelly’s determination and kindness, Jenny’s fierce loyalty and understanding. I still loved the girl that I thought Susan was 25 years ago, and my love for Rachel, even eight years after she died, was undying.

My care for other women also was strong. Daphne, for instance, was a good woman. I had saved her from a bad path and she managed to find the happiness- the glorious happiness- of a content and loving family. She had the comfort of the good ordinary life- something I had eschewed my entire adult life- and though I had eschewed it, the rewards of it had a certain allure.

There were others, too, that I loved or liked. For many I longed for what they had gotten- not jealously, but to enjoy it too. Or I longed for another moment of what we had shared once, with that person, the unique and special things that made them who they were.

Yet others I know I had messed up, hurt, or even ruined their lives. In most cases they were good people that didn’t deserve it, and I hated myself for it. I’m not a saint- in some cases the destruction meeting me had brought down upon them was deserved, and I felt no remorse from that- and in some cases I felt triumph at it. But it creates a sort of conundrum.

I know Jenny wants me in her life on a full time basis; I’m fairly sure that Kelly too has this desire. Maybe I could learn to live with just one of them, or a compromise of living with them alternately. But I had a hard time believing that me, in the maelstrom that my mind and my emotions often can be, that I would really bring them the happiness they seek in being with me.

I was terrified of what was going to happen with Jenny on that ship. I shifted trying to get away.

Kelly had not quite lost the instincts that she had gained with her brief time living on the streets, and she quickly pinned me down, her eyes looking at me hard; I knew she had somehow grasped that I was not just going to head for the bathroom.

“Johnny,” she said softly, “You can’t run from life forever. Everything will end the same way things did with your mother- incomplete, lost, and regretful. I love you. Jenny loves you, and you must let us help you!”

“I’m scared,” I whimpered.

“I know you are,” Kelly soothed, “But part of life is overcoming your fears. I know you can do it; our daughter is proof of that. The scary part of worry is rarely as bad as it seems. We made love last night in comfort and contentment, it wasn’t sick, it was beautiful. It has always been beautiful, hasn’t it?

“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely, “It has always been beautiful and wonderful and lovely. But I was so scared I’d lose the special relationship we had-”

“-But we didn’t,” she retorted, “We grew it into something even more special, even more wonderful! You visit me frequently, I can bear the time between visits. You are the man in my life, just as I always wanted you to be. It was a change, but it was a change for the better!”

I sat silently. She didn’t quite understand. The relationships between her and I, between Jenny and I, they were beautiful and wonderful and lovely. I was less scared of Kelly then I was of Jenny. The whole nature of our relationship started as two broken, very broken, people. We could understand my broken pieces. Jenny was not broken; She is just lovesick.

“All I had to lose-,” I stuttered, not quite sure how to say this, “was your friendship. You practically forced yourself onto me. I’m grateful you did, but there was nothing you could really blame me for when it happened. I could not have overcome my fear without your actions. Because you made me, it...” I paused again, “All I could do was gain you as a lover, or keep you as a friend.”

I paused again. She looked at me understandingly, and adjusted herself on top of me from a restraining position to one more conducive to lovemaking. She gently rubbed her body against mine.

“You have me as both,” she said breathlessly.

I gently nudged her off of me, “Please let me say what I need to,” I told her.

“Ok,” she said a little brusquely.

“That’s just it, Kelly,” I said more easily, “If I gain her, if it works out with her, I will lose what we have right now, at least some of it. Just like I lost the physical part of my relationship with Cheryl when we started this-”

“You didn’t lose it!” she interrupted, “You decided not to continue it. It was never a huge part of your relationship with mom anyway. She understood why; you found it awkward. She connects with you in a powerful and special way; you’re just about the only man in her life that interests her in friendship and not just sex. You are part of our family, that was what mattered most! Just like there is way more to what we have than just how good you make me feel in bed!”

“Of course there is!” I averred, “Including the way you make me feel in bed! The connection we have means a lot to me, all of it! Being that close to you, it means a lot to me now. When we have that connection, however briefly, it means the world to me!”

“We don’t have to lose it,” she said, “You will come to visit me from time to time, I’m sure, and we can still make love...”

“How do you know Jenny will be ok with that?” I asked, “If I commit to her that I will be the only man in her life, I will honor that commitment. If she asks that of me, to marry her, which I’m sure she will, I will-”

“She will not ask that of you,” Kelly insisted, “I think she understands the things that keep you from committing to anything at all, and I think she is willing to make the sacrifices that can get you to be closer and more a part of her life and the lives of your kids.”

“I will go on this trip,” I relented, “But I can not make any promises beyond that.”

“I know you can’t,” she said, as she moved back on top of me, “I would never ask you to promise me something like that. Now, where were we?”

She bent down and kissed me passionately while initiating more physical things. In a few moments, I started to respond to them, and we moved in a carnal embrace. Her body was exquisitely her, so thin and yet ample, soft and smooth with her youthfulness. My hands explored her body, enjoying each little bit of it, perfect in its own uniquely Kelly way.

Her kisses were hungry, her embrace even hungrier. This part of her life was feasting and fasting, and this was the feast. As I rose to meet the challenge of her hunger, I too felt hungry. Hungry for her sex, hungry for her love, hungry for her presence in my life. She was closeness, she was comfort, she was the feeling of love beyond lust, caring beyond fondness, peace beyond calmness, and contentment beyond happiness. A wonderful bounty and I gobbled it all up with voracity.

Soon she enveloped me with the moist warmth of her, clamping down upon me and feasting to salve her own hunger. As she moved above me she was a vision of beauty. Beautiful not only in the beauty of her picture, but in the love, the feeling, the “it’s you I want only!” that filled her blue eyes. My hands, encircling the soft thinness of her waist helping her move, moved themselves down to the bloom of her strong buttocks.

Together we reached a crescendo of pleasure, as I erupted in time to her climax with the synchrony of a pair of Patek Philippe wristwatches. As we ended our exertions, she collapsed on top of me spent, and I could just hold her in my arms feeling pleasure in her being there almost equal to that of what we had just done.

After a few minutes of this I felt a little hand on my foot, as Little Rachel had wandered into the room. She wanted breakfast; Kelly shooed her out of the room so we could get dressed and make her some.

As we worked on that, and prepared for the day, I reflected upon everything. I was selfish, of course. I didn’t want to give up on this. Or the pleasure of being with Jenny. I felt ... bereft of the pleasure I had lost making love to Cheryl, a different and unique experience itself. I wanted it all, and that wasn’t right.

I wasn’t a general believer that gluttony itself was a sin. If you can have everything without it hurting other people, there is nothing wrong with that. But that wasn’t what this was. I loved Jenny; I loved Kelly; I couldn’t keep each one of them at arms length without hurting them, and I was hurting them. It would be wrong to continue as I have done, meeting new people, having special experiences with each one. Each one was unique, special, wonderful, yes, but I was still hurting the ones I wanted to be with. And let’s not even get into Suzie.

I committed to going down to Lauderdale and getting on the Rotterdam. I felt more committed than ever to the idea of committing. I wasn’t sure I could commit to just one of them, but I could try. I felt at this point, at my age, it was time to commit to both of them somehow and make it so that Cheryl, Jenny, Kelly, and our children could make some kind of family. With me present in all of their lives on a regular basis. Those women understood me enough to allow me to exist in my way while being in their world, I hoped.

After spending the rest of the day enjoying being in Kelly and Little Rachel’s presence, indulging in the family time we were having together, we put Little Rachel to bed. Kelly and I packed my bag, and she drove me to the train station in her Mercedes at a little past 2AM. It was a thirteen hour journey to Chicago so I didn’t take a sleeper.

I kissed Kelly goodbye passionately on the platform of the old station. I boarded the train and got into my seat. I was tired and fell asleep quickly. The ride to Chicago was mostly uneventful. I quickly checked my mailbox and found nothing interesting. I put some letters in my bag that I would respond to at my leisure.

We pulled into Chicago about two hours late, which really still qualifies as uneventful when it comes to Amtrak, so I didn’t have enough time to grab a meal. I sat in the Metropolitan Lounge and sipped some coffee until the train was called. I had a nice steak in the dining car, although a tad overcooked, before returning to my roomette, which had been turned down for the night.

I lay in bed and thought about the trip to the Panama Canal with Jenny ... and oddly enough thought back to another trip taken about 26 years before, when Suzie and I were little...

My parents weren’t wealthy and neither were Suzie’s, but we had decided as a pair of families to take a cruise together. The ship would leave out of and return to Miami and we were going to fly there, with an itinerary taking us through the Panama Canal’s eastern entrance, spending a day in Gatun Lake, and then turning around and heading back out again.

Obviously a vacation of this kind was very exciting for all of us and we were all giddy. Cruises weren’t as common in 1983 as they are now, and the ship we were going on was called the SS Norway from Norwegian Cruise Lines. It had originally been launched in 1961 as trans-Atlantic ocean liner SS France for the French Line. NCL had acquired her in 1979, after her dramatic removal from service in 1974, as part of a strike that took place at that time, blocking the entrance to La Havre harbor for a month.

Norwegian Cruise Lines had done a lot to transform the former ocean liner for the tourist trade, including the addition of a pair of above deck pools, replacing a former enclosed second class pool on an upper deck and the replacement of the traditional enclosed first class pool on the lower deck. The Tourist Class cabins had been totally remodeled into something more appropriate for the single-class nature of Caribbean cruises.

Suzie’s mom had a 1982 Buick Estate station wagon, a fully loaded example with the full compliment of Di-NOC wood-u-believe it side paneling. Being sixteen I helped her dad and mine load the roof full of luggage, as we had planned to take just the Buick on the two hour drive to Buffalo Niagara International Airport. Parking would likely be expensive, and while my dad’s nearly new Mercedes 240D would be more efficient, it could only take five people. Mom’s Fintail was technically a six seater, but not in any comfort.

We piled into the Buick with our fathers sitting in the front, Suzie’s driving. Our mothers sat in the second row seat, while of course us kids rode in the rear facing third row, all of us giddy with excitement at the prospect of the adventure of a lifetime trip ahead of us. At that moment we were still normal kids, perhaps a little better off than some.

At that moment, at that time, in that place, I could never have imagined that barely more than a year later, I would spend the rest of my life traveling, albeit usually in far less luxury than this trip would be. I was just a happy teenager, about to go on a fantastic trip with my family and my best friend. Thinking back on that time I could marvel at our innocence. All of our innocence.

We played the kinds of little games in the car that us kids played in the days before electronic devices. We sang silly songs with the adults, like “99 Bottles of Beer On The Wall”. We sang along to Suzie’s dad’s favorite, Frank Sinatra, playing on the cassette deck the Buick had. Suzie and I played the plate state game where you scanned other cars and tried to find as many plates from out of state, the more exotic the better. We played red car blue car.

Suzie was just thirteen, although about to turn fourteen. She was really just still my friend. I had started finding the female of the species attractive as such a few years before that, but Suzie was a late bloomer, at least where desire was concerned. I hadn’t been looking at her that way really, at least not yet. She was a cute girl, but she was also my best friend. It was a friendship that other boys and girls had laughed at a few years past when it was simply uncool for girls to be friends with boys.

We talked to each other too during the car trip, but we restrained our conversation a bit. Our parents were within earshot. We weren’t talking about romantic stuff in those days, but, well, we were teenagers. We didn’t tell our parents everything. It was 1983, not Leave It to Beaver.

The scenery through the foothills of the Catskills was nice but got more boring as we got closer to Buffalo. It was early in the morning and the colors of the sunrise were truly beautiful. When we got to the airport we dropped the ladies and the bags off at the western terminal and found parking in the long term lot. As we had expected, it was quite expensive.

We reunited with the women at the gate, as there was practically no security. Different world in those days. We boarded the plane, operated by People’s Express Airlines, which took off and set flight to Newark, NJ. The flight was not particularly long and was handled by a Boeing 737, and it was at this moment that I developed a life long fear of flying.

It was a sensation I could not stand. There was nothing wrong with the plane- it was comfortable, the service was fine, the seats were plenty spacious. Planes were a nice way to travel in those days. I just could simply not stand the feeling of floating through the air, thousands of feet above the ground, supported by nothing but the grace of God’s physics. On this leg we experienced no turbulence and had what I later discovered was a particularly smooth landing at Newark.

At the moment I touched ground I was about as far away from my house that I had ever been, and it was a strange sensation. The people at the Newark airport mostly had a rather funny accent, and acted quite brusque. Our connecting flight was, thankfully, in the same terminal, so we didn’t have to wend our way through the enormous airport.

The wait was only an hour, which passed fairly quickly with conversation and some playing around in shops near our gate. The plane was an Eastern Airlines 737, and the flight was equally scary for me. I wasn’t able to hide it as much as on the last flight to the extent that at one point I was actually tightly holding Suzie’s hand.

I don’t think she had ever really seen me substantially scared before. I’d been startled, or had the average anxieties of the average kid. But I had never really been filled with the kind of uncomfortable terror being on an airplane tends to cause in me. Suzie kept assuring me that everything would be just fine, repeating the pedantic statistics about how safe flying is.

The early lunch served on the flight was acceptable. The food was presented on trays with real plates and silverware, and it tasted fine, if a little bland. It was a bit hard to eat because the fear limited my appetite somewhat.

After we landed at Miami, we walked to the baggage collection, got our bags, and found a man from the cruise line. We boarded a shuttle, which took us to the port.

The SS Norway was immense. At 70,202 tons of displacement, she was the largest passenger ship in the world, a title she held comfortably most of her operational life. At 1035 feet long, she was the longest passenger ship ever built until the completion of the Queen Mary 2 in 2004. She looked ... beautiful. She wasn’t like the ugly, exceptionally tall, wide, and upright monstrosities built for the cruise trade. She looked sleek, purposeful, and fast.

As we boarded the ship, we were all even more giddy with excitement. A cruise seemed so exotic, so luxurious, so special. It was a touch disappointing to actually get on the ship and find that the interior was almost spartan. The cabins we got were quite small, actually. They were outside cabins right next to each other consisting of a queen bed and a pull out sofa. After both of our families, in our individual cabins, had no fun at all bouncing against one another trying to settle, we both had a meeting out in the hall.

The rooms were too small for three people, all of our parents agreed; this was going to be an unpleasant trip. Suzie’s father flagged down a steward, and complained. The steward, of course, recommended we talk to the purser.

The whole group of us walked the considerable distance to the pursers office.

“The travel agent told us that the rooms could accommodate three quite comfortably!” Suzie’s dad Frank said, visibly irritated.

“It really depends on what you consider comfortable, Sir,” the purser told him politely, “Let me see what I can do.”

The purser looked up on his computer, and after some careful checking, looked up again, “Actually, I might have a solution in this case. We have an inside cabin directly across from your staterooms that has a pair of twin beds.”

“What in the world would we do with that?” Frank asked, exasperated.

“Well,” the purser said, “normally we require an adult in every cabin, but in cases exactly like this we can put two minors into a cabin directly opposite-”

“There is no way we are going to do that!” Frank yelled.

“Actually,” my dad said, “that would be a good idea if it wasn’t so expensive.”

“Well,” the purser said, “This close to sailing I can give you the room for $150.”

“It has nothing to do with the money,” Frank said, exasperatedly, “We can’t put a boy and a girl their age together in one room.”

“I think we can trust them,” my dad said, “They aren’t like that. You know them, Frank!”

“What about a fourth room?” Frank asked the purser, “I’m sure I can afford another $150 after all this trip is costing us.”

“Well, sir, we have a few other inside cabins,” the purser admitted, “but since they would not be practically adjacent to your staterooms, we couldn’t waive the requirement for an adult to be in each room.”

“Come on, Frank,” my dad said, “I trust my son not to do anything he shouldn’t, and I will happily cover the $75, and it will solve all the problems we are worrying about. Really, it’s either this, or we stay jammed in like sardines.”

“Speaking for myself,” Laura, Suzie’s mom, opined, “I think we will all be much happier with this arrangement.”

“I agree,” my mom chimed in, “Besides, they’ve had sleepovers before.”

“I feel overruled,” Frank relented, and then stared at me hardly, “But god help you if you do anything inappropriate!”

“I promise on my honor, sir.”

“And I want all of us adults to have keys,” he insisted to the purser.

“Well, sir, we only have four keys available,” the purser said, “But we can certainly give all of them to you.”

It was 1983, the SS Norway had regular pin-and-tumbler locks on their stateroom doors. The days where the hotel could create as many magnetic keys as they liked for a room was well in the future. Still, we agreed that this was sufficient, and went back to our rooms. Suzie and I, of course, moved our stuff from our parents’ rooms to our own room.

“This is so cool,” Suzie said, “This’ll be like a two week long sleepover!”

“Yeah, I know,” I smiled, “We’re going to have so much fun!”

The door opened and our parents shuffled in.

“I’m glad the beds are so far apart,” Frank muttered to himself.

We all glared at him, and then shuffled our way out for the departure ceremony. Once it was over, we went back to the outside of our rooms.

“The pool’s open,” Laura said, “that’s where we are heading.”

“You can change in our room, Johnny,” my mother said.

I grabbed my swimshorts and went across the hall to change. I presume Suzie changed in our room.

We went up poolside separately, and I was shocked by how I perceived her when she let her towel drop onto the chaise.

I mean she looked like herself, of course. The same beautiful reddish-orange hair, long and wild. The same pale skin, the same smattering of freckles, the same green eyes. She had more of a shapely body this year than last, but it had been a slow progression. Fuller hips and more chest, seemingly somewhat less waist. The same sweet smile, the shyness to her eyes, the same slightness of dimples. She still had a little of the facial chubbiness of youth.

Wearing as she was, a one piece monochrome pink suit, she was suddenly something she had never been before to me- very hot. The suit was the same one she wore to the lake last year. She was a bit bigger now, taller and more filled out. The suit was perhaps a touch too small on her. It revealed too plainly the shapeliness of her hips, the full bloom of her rear, the thinness of her waist, the suppleness of her breasts, and the allure of her mound. The way the cutouts for her pale and shapely legs and arms highlighted all of this was distinctly erotic.

For fear of anyone seeing the effect this was having on me, I grabbed her hand, yelled “Let’s go!”, and dragged her to the edge of the pool. We climbed together over the rim ship pools have, and I ran and jumped into the cool water performing a cannonball.

Having been soaked before her time by my jump, she squealed and jumped in after me, splashing me in vengeance. I couldn’t see her shapely exoticness so clearly under the water of the pool, and so she, thankfully, became just my best friend to me once more, as we played and splashed in the pool under the Miami sun.

After sometime in the water, we got out, ran over to the chaise lounges our parents were on, and asked to go back to the room.

“Are you sure you know how to get there,” my mom asked, “It’s a very large ship.”

“Through that door,” I pointed, “Down to deck 5 on the elevator, turn left, then right, down the hall to our cabin.”

“Okay,” Laura said, “Make sure you both change for dinner, we have the 6:00 seating.”

“Make sure you change and dress in the bathroom,” Frank said sternly.

“Duh,” said Suzie.

When we got back to the room, Suzie let her towel drop on the bed. That shape! I moaned involuntarily, and she looked at me. She ran her eyes over me to where she could see my shorts start tenting in real time. She looked shocked.

“I’m sorry!” I cried shamefully.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said adamantly, “But why?!”

“You’re a girl,” I said, “A very beautiful girl.”

“You’re my friend,” she pointed out.

“Yes,” I said, “Of course I am, I’m so sorry.”

“I said ‘don’t be sorry’,” she repeated, “But I didn’t think we were like this.”

“We haven’t been,” I said, “We aren’t. I’ve always thought you were pretty, but I’ve never really reacted like this before. You’re my friend. I love you. I’m sor-”

“STOP! Stop saying that!” she exclaimed.

I sat down on the bed. I was a bit scared right now. Our friendship had been one of the main constants in my life for over ten years. I was ashamed of my physical feelings, and scared they would get in the way of our friendship, not to mention this vacation.

“What do you mean you love me?” she sat down besides me and looked searchingly into my eyes. I looked equally searchingly into hers.

Well damn it, folks. I loved her. My god, of course I loved her. She was my best friend, after all.

“I mean I love you,” I said, “I care about you, feel for you. You are everything to me...” I realized that everything was what it had always been, its just that as we reached this stage in life, the definition of everything was just starting to encompass more. I had to take a chance. I had to trust my instinct.

I leaned over and kissed her gently, briefly, on the mouth. I leaned back and looked searchingly- longingly- into her eyes again.

Her breathing had changed. It was shallower, more intense, catching a little. She leaned over and kissed me. Twice, thrice, a dozen times.

We kissed each other. We embraced. I kissed her more passionately. Our tongues entwined, she was on top of me. I was no longer just looking at her sensuously shaped body ... I was running my hands over it. Feeling it. My hardened self was pressing up against her through our swimwear...

And then my fifteenth birthday present, a Casio F-8 digital watch, spoke up sternly. “Beep,” It said.

It was five o’clock. Thank god for the watch. We both panicked. I ran into the bathroom and showered. I wrapped my towel around myself and we switched rooms. Suzie had laid my suit on my bed and her dress and underwear on hers. I put the suit on. It was sailing night, we had to be formal. The shower stopped, and I blindly handed her clothes into her. She took them, and then stuck her head out. I could see her naked shoulders.

“Just so you know,” she said coyly, “I love you, too.” And then she closed the door.

She had just barely finished blowdrying her hair when our parents walked into the room.

Dinner was quite tasty, although not exquisite. The pomp and circumstance of the cruise was partially for show. But it was a good meal, except for the fact that both Suzie and I wanted to be alone, out of earshot from the other members of our dinner party, so we could talk over what had just happened. It had been a seismic shift in our relationship, and it required talking about.

Also, I suspect both of us had a latent desire to continue where my wristwatch had so rudely interrupted. But the more I thought about it the less I liked that idea. It would be a tremendous risk. It was a very icy slippery slope to be falling down like that. We didn’t want kids before we were ready. We wanted our parents support for this. But I was anxious to impart this feeling upon Suzie so that she wouldn’t fall down the slope, either.

The meal was formal, and served formally. The men all wore suits; the women all wore nice dresses. The waiters wore tuxedos. It was a full course meal, I think the first experience I had with fancy meal presentation on that level. The tables all had deeply starched crisp white linens covering them. Silverware was presented carefully and it was nicer than your usual restaurant fare and matched to itself. All had wine and water glasses, which were scrupulously kept full by the waiter’s assistant. The adults all had wine; Suzie ordered a coke, I drank only water. The plates were all marked with the line’s insignia and were beautifully presented.

The meal started with a fruit salad. This was followed by a choice of appetizer- I chose shrimp cocktail. Following this was a soup, I think it was a tomato bisque. Then a decent salad. We were all presented with a little crystal eggcup of raspberry sorbet as a palette cleanser. My main course was lamb chops with mint jelly, a little over cooked. For dessert I had a decent cheesecake. I can’t clearly remember what the others had.

Usually fine meals are something I can remember with excellent clarity. I pride myself on my excellent memory- backed up by notebooks from my travels over the years. But this was before I started keeping excellent notes, and because I was traveling with others, I had left my private journal at home.

Of course the real reason for my fuzziness on this meal was the fact that my mind was hazed in a way it had never been. Just before this meal, I had my first real kiss. I went from being a boy who was a complete novice to third base in just a few minutes. What’s more, I hadn’t done this with some girl from school that I had a limited personal relationship with- I had done this with my best friend of ten years. The fact that I could remember my meal alone was frankly remarkable.