Twelve

KATE AND I FLEW FIRST CLASS, non-stop from Seattle to Atlanta at Clarice’s insistence. We were treated like royalty and I even had a glass of wine. Kate declined. I don’t think they would have carded her. Clarice had told us we had an anonymous investor in our project. He was paying all expenses, first class everything, and for having the printing done. In return, he would receive print number one of each of our works. Clarice handed us a VISA cash card each and told us that we were to cover all our expenses with the card, including getting cash for tips and incidentals and taking Gerhardt to dinner. There was $5000 on each card and there was no restriction on how it was to be used. Clarice had arranged for a car and driver to be on call for us whenever we wanted it and had booked the Honeymoon Suite at the Doubletree—Yeah, maybe not the Four Seasons, but it was close to the airport and convenient to Gerhardt’s studio.

When we got off the plane in Columbus, there was a chauffeur holding a sign with our names on it. This was just flat-out cool. Our room was awesome and it included breakfast. When the bellhop brought our bags to the room, he paused to open a bottle of champagne and pour two glasses before collecting his tip.

This time, Kate did indulge, sipping her champagne while we giggled and kissed. It was only seven, so we decided to have a decent dinner and then crash. We’d been traveling since six our time and were tired. I caught Kate eying the bed, the same as I was.

The restaurant was great. Kate had a wild mushroom enchilada, but when I saw barbecued baby back ribs on the menu, I was sold. We finished our meals and just signed the check to our room with a generous tip. Once in the room, time stopped. It was just Kate and me.

Our clothes had been unpacked for us and our toiletries were neatly arranged on the bathroom counter. We showered, lovingly washing each other and taking every opportunity to rub our bodies together. Rather than finish in the shower, we headed for bed.

I’ve never felt anything so comfortable in my life. Kate and I rolled together, my cock simply sliding into her with no apparent effort.

Then we went to sleep.

We awoke reluctantly with our phone ringing its six o’clock wake-up call. We were no longer connected, but were nestled together in the luxurious bed.

“We are so getting a new bed when we get home,” I said.

“Do we dare? We’ll never get up to go to school and if last night was any example, we’ll never have sex, either.”

“School might suffer, but I think we can figure out how to make love without falling asleep in the middle,” I yawned. “Eventually.”

Kate shifted and I pressed against her stomach. Her lips tickled mine with a feather-soft caress. I touched them with the tip of my tongue and they parted. We met tentatively, not thrusting. The tongue is a miracle of taste and touch. We touched each other’s lips and front teeth—playing for a minute before pulling back so we could look at each other. Such a beautiful smile to greet me.

“I have you right on the tip of my tongue,” Kate whispered as she rolled and pulled me on top of her.

“I’ll never hear that expression the same way again,” I laughed. I felt her hand on my erection as she guided it back into her warmth.

“Weren’t we someplace around here when we were so rudely interrupted by sleep?” she asked. “This is your chance to show that a bed like this won’t always interrupt making love.”

As it turned out, it was the knock on the door that interrupted us, not sleep. Our breakfast arrived right when we’d requested it the night before. I grabbed one of the hotel’s luxurious robes and a ten-dollar bill from my wallet and went to let room service into the outer room of our suite. There was something strange about the young woman who set up the service and I puzzled over it while I watched her.

“I’ll leave the table leaves down,” she said. “That way if you want to wheel the service into the bedroom, you can easily do so. If you decide to eat in the sitting room, just pull these levers up.” She demonstrated. “If you are leaving for the day, just leave the service wherever you eat and we’ll pick it up during housekeeping.” Her voice dropped and she gave me a little wink. “If you plan to stay in all day, you might want to put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door.”

I gave her the tip and she left with a whispered a southern accented, “Enjoy,” that left me wondering exactly what she was referring to. I wheeled the cart into the bedroom and poured coffee for Kate, adding a little of the thick cream provided. She sipped tentatively.

“It’s not quite a latte, is it?” she giggled. I sipped my coffee.

“Well, it is hot, strong, and black,” I answered. “That’s it!”

“What’s what?”

“I was trying to figure out what was so strange about the woman who brought us breakfast. Do you realize that almost everyone we’ve interacted with in Georgia was black?”

“Kind of hard to miss when a girl had never seen a black person until she moved to Seattle. But there were lots of black people in the Dominican Republic. Nothing bothered you there.”

“And how many people of any color do we know in Seattle?”

“Well, there are a lot of Asians at school. Both schools. Tonya is black. Whitney is darker skinned than the rest of us lily-white people. But that’s about it. What’s the point? You aren’t prejudiced, are you?”

“It’s not that,” I said. I didn’t think I was prejudiced. I hadn’t even noticed until this morning. “Our driver, the desk clerk, the bellman, our concierge, and our waiter were all black. What hit me was that the room service person was white. She looked out of place, and I realized that I must look out of place, too. I have to do some painting while I’m here.”

“That could be interesting, but ... let’s ... try not to be offensive, okay? What is this we’re eating?”

“Eggs and bacon and ... let me get the menu. What did you order?”

“The Georgia Breakfast.”

“Okay. Two eggs, sunny-side up. Thick-cut country bacon. Georgia peaches. And ... grits.”

“How do you eat them? They’re kind of tasteless.” I grabbed my computer and was able to get on the hotel wireless system immediately.

“How to eat grits,” I read.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Melt lots of butter on them. The color should be the same as a ripe banana. Add salt—about ten grains of grits to one of salt. Wow! Eat with a fork and eggs, sunny-side up.”

“Seriously?” Kate asked while stirring butter and salt into her grits.

“It’s an article right here on how to eat grits. Hey, they aren’t bad. Like eating eggs with corn chips. Yum. Oh, it says to drink a glass of whole milk with them. That must be why the pitcher of milk. Glad you didn’t try to pour it on the grits.”

By the time we’d finished eating our breakfast—and the Georgia peaches were like starting the day with dessert!—we barely had time to dress and head for Gerhardt’s studio. We were warned not to be late for our eight o’clock start. It was still not five in the morning back home and I stifled a yawn as we walked up to his door.