FEAST OF MEN Page 6

  “I want you... sex?”

  “Sorry—then you’ll have to continue to suffer.”

  Upon arriving, I quickly made the decision to keep my belongings downstairs to create a distance from David. Downstairs, I change into my robe to be comfortable while napping. Back up the stairs, I slip into the other side of the bed.

  David rubs my back for a few moments then relaxes resting his arm around me. Lying still as the ocean breeze blows in through the windows and the music plays softly, I feel peaceful, yet full of yearning. It’d be so wonderful to be with a man I love in an environment such as this.

  Wiggling, I turn over to find we’re facing one another. David opens his eyes to look directly into mine. “You’re pretty—so natural with your long dark hair, brown eyes and tan skin. You should wear that white robe everywhere because you have a beautiful body and white is magnificent on you. Being petite, you still have a tall look because of your long arms and legs. Your breasts are beautiful, some of the best I’ve ever seen. I’d like to paint a portrait of you nude or in that white robe. It drapes so beautifully over your body.”

  “Thank you. Those are sweet things to say, but you’ve never really seen my body and I’d look ridiculous wearing a white cotton robe everywhere.” Do men really ever comprehend what all we women go through to look ‘natural’? In my forties, I put some real heavy effort into looking ‘natural’. Fortunately, I’ve been physically active ever since a child. Once an overly thin ballet dancer who starved herself and had no breasts—so I guess now, it’s paying off. These breasts didn’t arrive until I was forty and they’re ‘natural’ all right. Not being around long, they haven’t had time to sag too terribly much. I relax in David’s compliments, but chuckle to myself about the effort and time it takes to appear ‘natural’ while knowing the jerk’s only giving compliments in an effort to ‘score.’

  “Last time, I’ll ever say anything nice. So, remember what I said. Oh, there’s one more thing, you’re really wonderful to sleep with. I mean sleeping, when you’re not talking and another thing—your skin is beautiful—so soft.”

  “You’re saying way too many nice things and it’s not like you. Now you’re the one talking too much. Let’s get some rest.” Why does he think it’s so special saying something nice as if he’s doing me some big favor? Thank goodness, he didn’t make any sexual moves because there’s absolutely no sexual chemistry between us. He must recognize after all his bullshit sex talk that I’m not a ‘sex thing’. Does this obvious kind of behavior work with other conquests? Can’t imagine that it does—perhaps, they’re attracted or blinded by his wealth, cars, house and career. Sometimes I wonder if I am the only person in the world who still believes love and sex go together? Will I ever feel love again or meet a man with whom I feel sexual attraction? Will I ever even have sex again?

  It’s peaceful listening to the soft music as the wind blows through the blinds creating a soft rattling sound. Don’t feel like I actually fall asleep, more like I’m in a kind of meditative trance. My mind floats as I enjoy the sensations. The cool ocean air blows in through the windows as the enchanting music mesmerizes. I visualize what I desire while asking for messages.

  I see myself traveling the world—a man with either white or blond hair is kneeling at my feet. Hmmm, wonder why he is kneeling at my feet? His eyes are intense through his smile and it feels as if I’ve known him forever. His eyes are a warm color of brown—no, a beautiful color of blue—bizarre, his eyes change colors. I feel relaxed as a peaceful warmth floods over me—his smile—um, how wonderful.

  I slide quietly out of bed trying not to disturb David, who’s snoring like a buzz saw.

  I bathe and as I put on make-up, I recall my dream-like vision of the man kneeling at my feet smiling up at me and me smiling back at him. Why was he kneeling? Chuckling, I wouldn’t want the man I love kneeling at my feet, or would I? It was so clear that I’m looking down at him and he’s looking up at me? It was the warmest smile. Recalling this vision fills me with contentment.

  Dressed in black cotton pants and turtleneck, I arrive in the kitchen to find David’s book of designs on the bar. I quickly flip through them. Questioning, is this part of his seduction? Except, they’re incredible, one was even on the cover of Architectural Digest. I recall seeing it a couple of years ago and thought it was fabulous then. Who’d ever thought, I’d meet the man who designed it. Well, being artistically exceptional and successful does carry a certain kind of seductiveness. How can such an insensitive jerk be sensitive enough to create such beauty?

  Up to the master suite, I spy David in his office on the phone—sketching as he chats. I peruse his office looking at his abundant books of designs. His fascination with the sand and water mix, sure does create beauty. Glancing in my direction, he smiles. Showered and dressed, his silver hair is still wet and pulled back into a ponytail. His black linen shirt and white trousers show off his tan. He’s California artsy and pirate-like in appearance with a silver earring in one ear. He motions and mouths the words. “Just give me one minute. You look great.”

  Why do I meet so many men either living in or from California? Is it my destiny to eventually live here? A psychic forecasted over a year ago that I’d eventually move from Dallas to somewhere flat and also somewhere near the ocean. Um, so okay, somewhere flat then by an ocean, interesting—oh well, I’ll wait and see. Also foretold, I’d write a story and it’d be published in a month. I did and it was. And I’d never written anything before. So somewhere flat then somewhere by an ocean, always liked Arizona. Chuckling, maybe after the great earthquake, I’ll live in Arizona and then it’ll be near the ocean.

  Confusing are the insights a psychic gives until events occur—then to recall what was predicted. Sometimes it’s fun to be able to see the plan, but need to be careful going to some of those goofy fortune tellers and psychics. The place that they’re coming from, plus the place they get their information. Anyone can only see through their own eyes. Also, their individual belief system makes all the difference in interpretation. Plus, the energy is always changing and rearranging as we change, make choices and shift in our awareness. Aren’t we really all psychic and given insights and messages as we need them to be revealed to assist us to carry us forward on our path? I can usually see or feel my plan. Only this ocean, flat place or two places, then the kneeling blond/white-haired, blue, brown-eyed man—what are these clues? The pieces must be in the process of falling into place.

  I turn towards David to take in his essence. Standing behind his chair, I kiss him on the cheek then whisper. “You create such beautiful scenes.”

  Hastily finishing up the call, he spins around, pulling me to him while asking seriously. “In a phone conversation about a month ago, you told me a dream that you had about leaning over a man’s shoulder while he’s drawing and you kiss him on the cheek?”

  Startled by his recollection, “Sure, I remember. I told you about the dream on the phone and you asked me to hold that thought. Then you laughed at me for believing in dreams.”

  “Well just now, we lived your dream. Did you do it on purpose?”

  “No, I didn’t even remember my dream until you reminded me, but it was pretty cool to dream it. Often, in my life, I have dreams or visions then they happen. It’s spooky, amazing and fun.”

  “What’s interesting is I’ve always had a vision of a very special woman in my life doing exactly what you just did. I didn’t want to tell you about it on the phone because it really shocked me that you dreamed it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah really, only shit, you just did it and you aren’t very special at all.” To distance, he quickly reverts back into sarcasm.

  “Asshole, as soon as you’re sweet, you snap back to jerk.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. That’s my personality.”

  “Well, I may not be special to you, but you’re a nice friend to me.”

  He kisses me on the cheek then changes the subject. “Looks like I�
�ll be doing this man’s pool. It’ll be a big job. Are you ready? Let’s get outta here.”

  “Congrats on getting the job and yes, I’m ready. Let’s have some fun.”

  On our way down the stairs, I mention his designs, “David, you’re really an incredible designer and I love the modern one on the front...”

  “Cover of Architectural Digest?”

  “Yes, I saw it years back and thought it incredible then. It’s just my style white, clean with great lines.”

  “That’s one of my favorites, too. You have great taste.”

  “Will you build a pool like that some day for me?”

  “Do you have three million dollars to spend?”

  “Well, I just might have some day. It could happen, but wouldn’t you do it just because you like me? I haven’t used up all my wishes yet?”

  “Oh, yes you have. I got you Diet Dr. Pepper, frozen grapes...”

  “I never wished for those things. So, you are a counterfeit Genie.”

  “That’s exactly what you wished for. You only have three wishes, you know?”

  “I haven’t even used one of my wishes, been saving all of them for this pool. Okay, Genie of mine.” I rub David’s belly as I make my request, “I want a swimming pool like the one on the cover of Architectural Digest, only smaller please—and thank you.”

  “Okay, see what I can do.” smirks, “Now, what do I get in return?”

  “Genies never get things in return. Ha well—since you’re such a handsome Genie, you get to hold my hand and take me to dinner.”

  “Sounds fair, I get to feed you. Maybe, I’ll get you a rock from some movie star’s pool, a big flat one.”

  “Wow, how special, a big flat rock from some movie star’s pool. Hey, you look handsome tonight.” As I think, it’s too bad about your body and how sexually needy, rude and sarcastic you are—but there’s something about swimming pools and water—the ocean, but what?

  “You’re beautiful, adorable and you know it—a real living doll.”

  After landing the design job, he’s in a better mood. We slip into David’s champagne-colored Jaguar sports car and drive along the ocean highway towards Beverly Hills chatting. Sun’s setting and it is absolutely breath taking. David points out landmarks and tells me about experiences he had as a child. In Beverly Hills, he shows me movie stars’ homes and waterscapes that he’s created.

  “The Geffen house is magnificent. David, you really did all that?”

  “Well yeah, a part of it—I guess, you could see more if it was lighter out.”

  “Yes, if we would’ve left earlier. Too bad, you have to watch TV and nap so much.”

  “Well, we’re here now, aren’t we? You’re never satisfied and always so demanding.”

  I think to myself, how would he know about never or always with me? He’s only known me two months. Clearly, he doesn’t like women and is saying the same things to me as he says to others. Ah well, I’m having a pleasant enough time viewing the sights. I’ll just blow it off.

  We drive around a bit longer then get a greasy something to eat at Pink’s. David’s favorite hot dog joint then, head back to his house.

  “I can’t believe you put me on such an early flight because I’m not good for anything in the morning?”

  He responds, “Best I could do sleepy head because wanted you to have a direct flight, so there’d be no hassles. That’s why, I had you flying out of DFW instead of Love Field as you so demandingly requested. After taking you to the airport, I’ll go directly to my first appointment. Do you want to watch some TV when we get back?”

  “Sure, but since I’m forced to get up at four-thirty, I’ll want to get to sleep early. I haven’t gotten much sleep this weekend. I will pack when we get back then we can watch a movie. You’re sure a TV addict, sofa man.”

  “I want to snuggle with you. I like the way you cuddle into my arms. We could watch TV in the bedroom instead of the sofa?”

  “No, that’s okay. Sofa’s fine and you can keep me warm because your house is so cold.”

  “I keep it that way. So, you’ll be forced to be close.”

  “How many other girls have you said that to?”

  “Not one—just you.”

  I laugh hysterically as he glances over with an evil grin on his ruggedly handsome face.

  “You know Natalie, we started out rough when you first arrived but I think we’ve gotten along great since. Are you having a good time?”

  “Yes, I’m having a fine time. You’re wonderful except when you’re not, but you were such a jerk at the airport.”

  “I was a bit taken back after sending you a ticket, arrive at the airport to find you talking so familiarly with some man. I mean, shit!”

  “We could tell when you yelled, ‘Okay, throw your bag in the back of the car and get in!’ You didn’t say hi, or even get out of the car to open the door. You were so rude. I was thinking that I’ve made a big mistake. Is this the guy, I’ve spent two hours a day on the phone with for months or some evil jerk? I was stunned by your behavior.”

  “You were standing with a ‘movie star’ looker. What would you’ve thought?”

  “Absolutely nothing, I flew out here to see you. Did you think I’d picked someone up at the airport?” How insecure can anyone be, even jealous and what for? He’s only projecting what he might do to me or some other woman. David’s vulnerability is clear because that guy was tall and handsome. Some short men have major insecurity problems concerning tall men and try to disguise by arrogance and posturing.

  He continues, “Didn’t know, wasn’t sure—thought you might rather be with him?”

  “You invited me to visit and I accepted. Even after introducing you to him, you were still such a jerk. David, he’s a married man and I know his wife and his children. We sat together on the plane to talk—just to pass time. He was being a gentleman helping with my luggage which is what you might’ve done. Then he waited with me until you arrived because the airport was so crowded and we couldn’t locate your, Jag. Anyway, if you were a gentleman, you’d have met me at the gate when I arrived.”

  “Who said anything about me being a gentleman? Already told you more than once, I’m not anything close to being a gentleman. You already told me all about that guy and I don’t want to hear it again. I did jump out and open the door, plus put the top up on the car and then, and only then did her royal highness finally get in.”

  “Damn right. I’m a lady and expect to be treated as such or I’m gone like the wind. You enjoy being such an irreverent slob. When really, you’re sweet, deep down there—somewhere? Somewhere, down there, I just know you are sweet.”

  Gruffly, “Don’t count on it.”

  “You were so bizarrely cute after we got to your house and you sat on the hood of your car inquiring. ‘Okay, explain this door opening thing? I can open doors, just tell me what you want?’ I had to forgive you after that.” He realized by then, he had no chance of getting laid at this rate and was trying to manipulate.

  “I wasn’t so cute—just trying to avoid having some awful weekend with some demanding bitch. You explained what you required in the door department and I’ve given it to you, right?”

  “Umm, right.” As I think—what a major ass. I’m not demanding. He’s a rude jerk. Why does he find it so difficult to treat a lady like lady? Women are only sex objects to him and he’s afraid to show a woman respect. Who knows and who cares? Such a big deal over nothing. A damn car door—we’re talking about here.

  “Well, glad we got past all the tenseness. Was thinking then that this might turn out to be one long weekend and it hasn’t. It’s been too fun and gone too fast.”

  “Well, just see what happens when you open a few doors.”

  “Bitch!”

  “Asshole!”

  “You know? When we get back to the house, we could get an Anne Rice book and read it out loud to one another in bed?”

  “No way, don’t go there. Don’t even try.�
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  “Well a guy has to try, doesn’t he? Or he wouldn’t be a guy.”

  “I guess, yes. A sex-fiend guy does. I was surprised that I do like parts of those books. So, thanks for sending them. They’re a turn on in some ways but disgusting in others. Perhaps, there’s a tiny bit of me that’s as twisted as you.”

  “Keep ‘em because you’ll probably use ‘em with the next guy and he’ll thank me.”

  “Could be. David, you’ve opened me up a bit sexually speaking and my imagination goes...”

  “Haven’t even touched you and don’t go saying that when we’re not going to have sex. Anyway, if I’ve opened you up sexually then why aren’t we having sex? I’ll pull the car over, right now!”

  “Sorry, it’s only in my mind and my imagination goes—because you’re so knowledgeable and experienced.” I am teasing him because hearing me say this, ought to make this insecure sexually needy little man feel good. “You know why we’re not going to have sex. Real affection and sex go together for me and not for you. I believe sexuality to be a spiritual force of love and it’s sacred. A powerful connection through the physical and I don’t take it lightly. It’s far too intimate. Orgasm is a deep explosion of the creative force.” I ponder, except it might be fun to lose my beliefs to test drive him and check out if he’s as good as his pretense. Except. it’d hurt me emotionally. So, what would it really be worth? Nothing! Anyway, I bet he’s really a bore in bed because he spends too much time talking about it. With every word, he’s becoming more emotionally unattractive while appearing more sexually needy. Plus, there’s just no chemistry between us—which doesn’t bother him because he’s so interested in the conquest. Why don’t men realize when it happens—it just happens? It’s about chemistry, trust and the connection. Anyway, if I’m going to let go my ethics for a sexual tryst, there’ll be major chemistry. If David were physically attractive to me and with all his trappings, um, I wonder if I’d go ahead and have sex? No, I wouldn’t because his mindset is that of an immature needy ‘playboy’.