Chapter Six

 

Still wearing his good khaki slacks and the Filipino dress shirt, and self-conscious about the bouquet of flowers in his left hand, Slattery rapped on Sabetha’s door at the stroke of seven. The sweet scent of the posies filled his nose and he wondered, too late, if his impulse purchase might be too much, too soon. Maybe he should have dumped them in the trash can near the entrance, he thought, and then she answered his knock.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she told him, then paused. Her smile lit up her face. “You brought flowers! Oh, Slattery, I love them. They’re beautiful, and the colors are fantastic. Thank you!”

He transferred them into her hands, pleased with her response.

“You’re welcome.”

“Let me go find a vase. Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

Slattery settled onto the sofa. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, and he inhaled with a deep pleasure. Domestic sounds came from the kitchen, water splashing into the sink as she presumably filled the vase, the rattle of a spoon against cookware, her footsteps across the tile floors, and the soft hiss of something coming to a boil on the stove. Combined, his senses brought him back into the past, to succulent Sunday dinners at his grandmother’s house, and back to his Mom’s kitchen. The familiar, homey atmosphere made him comfortable and he relaxed despite his work issues. Two weeks could be a long while, and he could spare tonight to unwind. Soon, he’d have to make up his mind and say something to Sabetha, but not now, not tonight.

“Come and eat,” she called from the kitchen.

Slattery obeyed and when he sat down at the table, he thought he might have died and headed to heaven. Sabetha had prepared smothered steak—fork tender round steak topped with onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, and carrots, along with mashed potatoes, brown gravy, green beans seasoned with bacon, and hot rolls. “I’ll be damned,” he said with reverence. “This is one of my favorite meals. How’d you know?”

Sabetha grinned. “I didn’t, but I figured a Southern man would appreciate my old-fashioned cooking skills.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a home-cooked meal. It must have been when he went home two years ago. “I do. Did you make the hot rolls?”

“Yes, I did, weeks ago. I made up a batch and froze it. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been time to make them.”

“I’m impressed.”

Her face flushed a little with embarrassment. “Just dig in and eat, Slattery. Then I’ll know if you like it or not.”

She had nothing to worry about, but he cut a bite of the steak and put it in his mouth. The blended flavors exploded against his tongue and he almost moaned. “Jesus, that’s good.”

Her smile rewarded him as he moved on to taste the potatoes and gravy, then the green beans. His mama back home could cook rings around Rachel Ray or Paula Deen, but Sabetha had her beat. Slattery smeared butter onto a roll and savored the warm, yeast taste. “Honey, this is one of the finest meals I’ve ever had, bar none. It’s beyond good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Without thinking, he said, “It’s just what I needed, especially today.”

Sabetha tilted her head a little, inquiring. “Hard day?”

He’d said more than he should but after a moment’s hesitation, Slattery nodded. “Yes and no. I had to talk to my boss about some possible changes, and I’m not fond of change.”

“Neither am I,” she said. “Well, then, I’m all the more glad I invited you for supper. Do you want to talk about it?”

Slattery did but he wouldn’t. Too many explanations would be required and he wanted to gain every bit of enjoyment from the evening he could, so he hedged. “Maybe later.”

“Sure,” Sabetha said. “I’m a good listener whenever you want.”

“You’re a damn fine cook.” He switched subjects with ease. “I’ve never had smothered steak this good.”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe, but I updated it. She didn’t use mushrooms but I do. I think they add some flavor, especially when I use shitakes. The green beans are the way she cooked them too.”

“And the potatoes are real, not instant.”

Sabetha smiled. “You noticed. Yes, I hate instant. They never taste quite right, and if I’m going to blow the calories, I want actual potatoes with all the taste.”

He laughed. They ate their fill of the good food, then finished off with banana pudding she’d made, old-school style with slices of fruit and vanilla wafers included. Conversation filled any spaces as Sabetha talked about her day at work, classic country music, and the weather.

“It’s just two weeks until May,” she said as she cleared the table and stacked plates. “I’m glad. I like spring, but I’m really looking forward to summer. It’s one of the perks about living in Southern California. There’s so much to do with the beaches and all the parks, and we’re close to the mountains too. I enjoy the outdoors. Do you?”

Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Yeah, to a point I do. I like to fish and hunt but I haven’t done much of either out here.”

“Why not?”

Slattery shrugged. “I’m a freshwater fisherman, I guess. I don’t know jack about saltwater fishing, and there’s not much of anyplace to hunt. If I was back home, I’d be fishing the Red River and the bayous.”

“I’ve done some of that with my dad and brothers, but I like the ocean better. Even in Texas, we used to go down around Beaumont to Sea Rim State Park a couple of times every summer and once in a while to Galveston. Do you like the beach?”

An image of the wide Pacific spreading out toward the western horizon, beautiful and blue, filled his mind. Slattery remembered trips to the Gulf of Mexico as a kid and young man. He had loved the sea, then. Maybe he would again but he wasn’t certain. “I hate sand,” he told her with feeling.

Her expression changed and eyes darkened. Slattery braced himself for the usual pity, but Sabetha surprised him when she spoke with compassion instead. “You would, of course, from Iraq. I should’ve thought of that. There would be differences, though, between a Middle Eastern desert and a California beach.”

Funny but he’d never thought about that. “Yeah, I suppose there would be,” he said. “The Pacific would be a big one.”

“It’s majestic if you like water,” she said.

Memories of the Red River, a barrier between Shreveport and Bossier City always in lazy motion surfaced. He thought of the wide waters of Toledo Bend on the Louisiana and Texas line and remembered the way cypress trees grew close to the dark waters of the quiet bayous. Water had brought him calm, he recalled, and inner peace. “I do or I used to,” Slattery said.

“They say the Pacific has no memory,” Sabetha replied.

He liked the idea very much. If he could view the ocean through new eyes, without emotional baggage, it might be a good thing. He might enjoy it and said so. “I think I’d like to give it a try sometime,” he said.

She glanced up from loading dishes and pans into a compact dishwasher he hadn’t noticed earlier. “We could go together, Slattery, and if it proved to be too much, you wouldn’t be alone.”

Yesterday, hell, even two hours ago he would have flat refused, too afraid to consider it, but now Slattery nodded. “Yeah, we could. I think I’d like that, Sabetha.”

Her small hands wiped down the counter, stove, and then the table with graceful motions. “Then let’s go Friday.”

His shoulder muscles tensed until she put one hand on his shoulder. Slattery relaxed and caved.

“All right, I’ll give it a shot, but let’s find a quiet beach. If I freak out, I’d rather not have much of an audience.”

“I bet I can find the perfect place,” Sabetha said. “I know a few good beaches.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you for supper, by the way. It’s the best I’ve had in a long time.”

Sabetha grinned. “You’re welcome. I like to cook and it’s not often I have anyone to cook for, so it’s my pleasure. If you can stay awhile…”

“I can.”

“Then you go can go ahead into the living room. I’m almost finished cleaning up in here, and I’ll in there in just a minute.”

Slattery liked the idea. Although he still enjoyed himself, the phantom pains had kicked up about the time they first talked about sand and hadn’t abated. If he could be more comfortable, it might slack down. He considered the couch but chose the recliner because he could put his feet up. By the time Sabetha joined him, he had become drowsy but rallied when she switched on the stereo.

He expected the country music she played on her show but instead, the lilting, almost otherworldly sounds of Mannheim Steamroller poured into the room. Sabetha tucked her legs beneath her in a corner of the couch. “I hope you like the music. I know it’s New Age but it’s also very relaxing.”

“Fresh Air, what is it, six? The one based on Greek mythology, right? It includes sounds of the sea.” Slattery knew the music. He owned a few albums from back in the day and a couple of CDs.

Samantha lit up. “Yes! So you like their sound too?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.”

“That’s awesome. I worried you might not enjoy it because it’s not traditional.”

“In some ways, though, it is, blended with a contemporary sound and new ideas.”

“True.”

They exchanged a long glance and grinned. “So, I assume it’s fine if we hang out and listen to music for a while.”

“Absolutely.”

“Would you like a glass of wine? I have some Moscato.”

“Sure.”

The sweet wine trickled down his throat and by the time he finished it, he had released his worries.

Slattery let the amazing sound of Mannheim Steamroller surround him, punctuated by Sabetha’s gentle Southern voice. Both provided comfort. The fine meal left him with a warm glow in his belly, and the wine took away any edginess. At first, he managed to respond to her comments, to talk about music and food and even wine, but fatigue descended on him, thicker than early morning fog. He struggled against it, unwilling to fall asleep, something he worried might offend Sabetha, but the long day, the tense encounter with his boss, the decision looming, and the pleasant evening combined to put him under, and he slept.

He roused to dimmed lights, a light throw tossed over his chest, and a few moments of confusion. His first thought was where in the hell am I anyway, and the second was oh shit, I fell asleep again. Slattery struggled over the years to get a decent night’s sleep, and he wondered why he fell asleep so easily at Sabetha’s place twice in a row. Not being alone could be a factor, but he’d had trouble going to sleep at his mom’s when he went home for a while, fresh from the hospital. When he did go out, he often woke screaming, which roused his mother and anyone else in the vicinity.

When he lowered the footrest and sat up, squinting to find the time, Sabetha spoke up.

“It’s after midnight, if you’re wondering.”

She still sat curled into one corner of the couch but he noticed she wore a nightgown, not the casual blouse and jeans she had on earlier. “Thanks,” he said and scrubbed both hands over his face. “Sorry I dozed off.”

“Not a problem, Slattery. You said you had a hard day and you looked awfully tired so I let you rest.”

“I appreciate it, but I hope I’m not keeping you up.”

Sabetha gave a pretty laugh. “Slattery, I’m up till all hours every night of the week, so it’s fine. I listened to music awhile longer and read for a bit.”

Although she didn’t appear to mind, Slattery’s embarrassment he’d crashed—again—rankled. “I should go,” he said and stood up.

“You don’t have to leave. You could stay.”

Her voice softened and became husky. His dick took interest as he wondered whether she meant he could sleep over in the recliner or if she offered an invitation to her bed and body. In her sheer nightgown that reached well above the knee, her curves and gorgeous breasts were visible, and he wanted her with a strong, sudden passion. But Slattery knew assumptions could create trouble, and he needed to be sure.

He took a single step toward her and paused as he searched for something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or smartass. “Sabetha…”

She moved closer and stretched out both hands to him. “Please, Pride,” she said, using his first name.

The single syllable undid him. Slattery pulled her into his arms, savoring the way her breasts pressed against his chest, and kissed her. Sabetha tasted of the wine they’d drank and the faint lingering lipstick from hours earlier. Her mouth yielded to his as he kissed so deep and long that he struggled to breathe. The contact ignited a wildfire that spread through his veins with heat and something like electricity. His body sang with the joy of it, and he wanted her with such intensity Slattery thought he might die from need.

From the way Sabetha’s breath caught in her throat and the soft sighs she made, he thought she enjoyed it as much as he did. When he paused for air, she leaned against him, hands roaming. When her fingers massaged his nipple through his shirt, Slattery almost came. Not too soon, not too soon, he told himself. It’d been a long time since he’d had sex, longer still since he’d been intimate with any kind of emotional involvement or interest. He would savor the experience for all it might be worth.

Although he seldom exerted himself unless under pressure, still mentally half-crippled with the notion he possessed a disability, Slattery swept her up into his arms, like Rhett Butler did Scarlett, and carried her into the bedroom, his mouth fastened tight on hers.

As soon as he put her down, Sabetha reached for him. She linked both hands behind his head and kissed him, she the aggressor now, with potent intent. Her tongue snaked into his mouth and she French kissed him so hard, so fast, he swayed, almost losing his balance. Her small hands reached for his shirt and undid the buttons with such haste that some detached. Slattery heard them hit the floor and laughed with delight. Sabetha stripped away the shirt and tossed it down, then began kissing his throat. She used her teeth to nibble and bruise, to leave a love mark.

Slattery had delivered a few but he’d never had one, never wanted to be branded, but now he had no complaint. The sensation of her sharp teeth against his skin prickled in a very delicious way. She undid his fly and tugged at the pants so they dropped to his ankles. Slattery kicked out of first one leg, then the other, although it proved to be more difficult with his left leg. For a moment, the fabric caught on his prosthesis before he maneuvered it away.

He grasped her thin nightgown with the intention of removing it but instead he used enough force that it ripped between his fingers. Slattery removed the remnants and confirmed his suspicions she wore nothing beneath it. He cupped her full breasts in his hands and kissed them. She groaned and so he took one nipple into his mouth and suckled it. The soft bud hardened and her moans increased.

“I can’t wait,” he said, breathing hard. Slattery released her long enough to shuck his underwear. He considered removing his prosthesis but didn’t, decided not to draw attention to it. It might curdle his ardor, and he doubted it would do much for Sabetha’s. “Come to me.”

She obeyed and he pulled her against him, bare skin to skin. Her flesh smoothed against his like silk. Slattery plunged his hands into her hair and savored the sensation. He kissed her again but this time short and swift, leaving them both wanting more.

He lowered her onto the bed and drew her face to face. He tongued her mouth with greed, then shifted his lips to trail down her throat, kissing, licking, biting. Slattery took time with her breasts, flicking his tongue around each tight nipple while caressing her breasts with a slow hand. He took his time, then let his mouth wander down her smooth belly until he reached her cleft. Sabetha whimpered beneath him as he used his fingers to slide into her pussy. Slattery stroked and fondled, then shifted position so he could lower his mouth to slide his tongue inside.

Sabetha bucked against him and made such amazing sounds that he realized she’d come very soon. So he backed up and kissed her once more, his lips full of her taste, then he plunged his hard cock into her warm waiting depths. Every sensation became heightened with pleasure as his shaft rubbed tight against the walls of her box. Sabetha tightened her cunt around him and he thought he’d explode. Slattery held on and rode her, plunging deep and fast until sensual delight overwhelmed him. He drowned in the glory as one powerful wave yielded to another.

His body rocked with the force and he shut his eyes as orgasm wiped away everything else. In those fantastic moments he forgot everything negative in his life and embraced the good. The difficult years faded, and for a span, Slattery became all he’d ever been and maybe more.

He compared his powerful climax to an exploding rocket, every burst as fiery and intense. Sabetha rode the pleasure tide with him, something he marked with gladness even as he experienced the ultimate physical joy. As the dizzying spirals receded, Slattery came back to reality with a jolt. He landed facedown beside her, one arm draped across her belly, breathing as hard as if he’d run a marathon, weary as if he’d worked all day in the hot sun, but sated and happy.

Slattery inhaled the heady scent of their combined musk and sighed with contentment. When he chanced a glance at Sabetha, she wore a small smile. “So, honey, what’d you think?” he asked.

Her smile expanded. “I think that was awesome lovin’, Slattery,” she said. Her fingers traced a line on his back. “I’m sleepy. Stay, will you?”

Short of a flash fire or a powerful earthquake, he doubted he could move. “Sure, Sabetha, I’ll be here.”

“Good.” Her voice was a faint whisper, thick with fatigue. After a few moments, her fingers slowed, then stopped. “Slattery?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

Sabetha said no more as she drifted into sleep, but Slattery lay awake, thinking.