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DAVID
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THE WATER BARELY STARTS before I’m against her from behind, my cock pressing into her delicious backside. I wrap my arms around her waist just as I did that morning seven long months ago.
“Every time I stepped into this shower, I saw that morning. I saw you standing there with the water dripping from your body, your eyes closed, and head tilted up. When I would get in the shower, I’d feel you in my arms. There hasn’t been a day that I didn’t step into this shower rock-hard and come into my hand just to get through the day. Most days, I’d have to finish with a cold shower too. But I refused to shower in any other bathroom. This is our room, our bathroom, our space, and when I have to be without you, this is where I am able to connect with you the most,” I say and then pull her to me.
She’s facing the water, and I’m standing behind her with my arms wrapped around her. My face is in her neck just like that morning, but this time, there are no tears. I’m kissing her neck and running my hands up her belly to grab her round breasts and massaging them, pinching her nipples, squeezing them together.
“What my girl wants, my girl gets, always. Now put your hands on the wall and stick that perfect ass out,” I say. Grabbing her hips, I thrust home as soon as she does. Her slick heat wraps around me, and she clamps down, pulling me in.
I know I will never get enough of this, of us. No one has ever made me feel this way, and no one will because it’s us. This connection makes all the difference. I know at this moment I will always wait for her between visits. No matter if it’s a few months or a few years, I will always wait for her.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Ivy tosses her head back and moans. The sound fills the room, combining with the water and the sound of our wet skin slapping together, the sound of my balls slapping up and hitting her clit with each thrust.
I run my hand from her hip up her spine and tangle it in her wet hair. Her walls start to clamp down on me. I know she’s close, so I pull out, and she lets out a frustrated groan that only makes me smile. I pull her up and turn her around I lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and pin her to the wall. I lean down and kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip as I thrust into her as deep as I can.
“Is this what you would dream about, beautiful? Me stretching you like this? Owning you?” I ask, then I lean down to her ear. “Because this is exactly what I would picture when I was I here stroking myself to images of you.” I nip at her ear as she gasps. Her walls clench. Apparently, my girl likes dirty talk.
“No, my brain was never this good. This is so much better than anything I ever pictured,” she says.
“Tell me, my sweet Ivy, did you touch yourself thinking of me? Did you rub your clit? Stick your fingers in you and come thinking of me?” I ask as I pinch her clit, and her whole body tenses up, her legs lock around me, and her walls clamp down on me, and she comes, screaming my name. She comes so hard her sweet cream is dripping down my balls.
It’s enough to make my balls draw up tight. I thrust twice more and pull out and start coming on the wall behind her, thrusting my dick between her ass cheeks.
I still have her pinned to the wall, her legs around me when I say. “Beautiful, you didn’t answer my question.”
Her eyes open and take a moment to focus before she speaks, and then it’s barely above a whisper. “Every night, David, every night, I’d pray for this moment. I’d picture it in vivid detail, and when I’d come, it would be with your name on my lips, but it was always disappointing. My body craved you, and my hand was a poor substitute.”
I kiss her then and pour all my emotions and love into it. I make love to her mouth and try to make her understand what she means to me and what her words do to me. It’s a kiss that’s begging her not to leave me again. When I pull back, her eyes are a little misty, and I place a soft kiss on each eyelid before I reach for her shampoo. When she sees it, her eyes go big. “You still have my stuff?” she asks.
“Yes, having your stuff mixed with my mine made me think you were coming back, and being able to have your scent near me again soothed my soul. Your stuff will always be here. It will always be waiting for you to come back to me.”
We take turns washing each other before getting out of the shower. I dry her off but refuse to let her get dressed again. I walk her to the closet and show it to her. She walks in and takes it in, her hand covering her mouth and tears in her eyes.
I look at what she sees. There is not only the clothes Nancy bought for her seven months ago but also clothes I bought since she’s been gone. Things I wanted to see her in, or I thought she would like. She was always on my mind when I was traveling and touring.
“What’s all this, David?” she asks.
“Every day, I thought of you. When I was touring and traveling, I would see something I knew you would like, or something I wanted to see you in, and I bought it for you, brought it home, and hung it up here in our closet. This will always be your home, Ivy; your clothes will always hang here with mine. I have your sizes memorized, and I will always add to this closet for you. I will always keep your toiletries with mine. I just ask that you put your stamp on the rest of the house too, so I can feel you here even when you are not.”
“I’m way ahead of you.” She walks past me. She grabs her bag from the floor and sits on the bed. I sit down next to her and lean against the headboard. I pull her to sit between my legs with her back against me. My dick wants to come out and play again, but he’s going to have to wait.
She turns to face me, and her eyes run over my face.
“I love you, David. I wasn’t sure when I left, but the more I read and looked into you, the harder I fell. Today just confirms it.”
I rest my forehead to hers and close my eyes. Her words are ones I would hear in my dreams and always thought they’d be just that. Dreams.
“I love you too, Ivy, so much,” I whisper.
She turns forward again and leans back to rest her head against my shoulder. “I love this, the cuddling with you, your arms around me. This is home wherever we are, and your arms around me.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out two picture frames. She holds them up for me to see. The frames are a simple black but with an ivy leaf vine design around the edges. They are simple and gorgeous, but it’s what’s in the frames that have me choking up.
One is the photo of me the press took standing next to the sign when I named the house Ivy Hill. In this photo, I’m looking right into the camera. I remember thinking she is on the other end, and she will see this, and I wanted to show her everything I still felt for her.
The other is the photo we took of her sitting on my lap the last day she was here. The only photo of her and me.
“These are the exact two photos I have sitting on my nightstand at home in these same two frames. I fall asleep every night looking at them and with your music playing me to sleep.”
I tear up instantly but take the photos and place them on my nightstand too and then turn her head so I can kiss her. I can’t seem to stop the tears that fall while I show her how much I love her with my mouth. When she pulls back, she starts kissing the tears off my face, which only causes more to fall. I close my eyes and try to gather myself, all while enjoying her lips on my face.
“I love you like this,” she says between kisses
“Like what?” I ask.
“When you let your mask down and show me your vulnerable side. I see the side the media gets, which is a colder version of you. The side your fans get is a bit warmer. But this side is my favorite.”
I force a smile. “Only for you. I will always have my masks down for you and only you will know the real true me. Only you will get to see my tears and know the depths of my love for you.” I choke up again. “What else do you have in your bag of treasures?”
She smiles and pulls out her phone with a cord. “I brought my charging cord this time with an adapter so I can charge it. Brian said the outlet at your house is a bit different than the ones in my time, but he swears it will work. I brought a few things on my phone that I think will eliminate any doubt of where I come from.”
I kiss her cheek and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Show me.” She starts by showing me pictures from the past seven months. Many are in her house, and you can see the sadness in her eyes, which kills me. Then she shows me a picture of myself, but you can tell I’m older. She says it was taken the year before I die. I swallow hard.
Then she plays a song that is my voice, no doubt. But the song is one I’ve never heard before, much less sang and recorded. But it could very well be talking about her and how much I love her and need her.
If I still had any doubt, she pulls up a movie I apparently acted in. She says this is about four years from now, and it’s me just nothing I’ve ever done to date. She won’t tell me the movie name and only lets me watch about ten minutes of it. I know in my heart that I believe her, even if my mind still can’t grasp it.
The last thing she pulls from her bag is a book. It is a book written about my life, not by me but by some reporter who did interviews of family and friends and put together a timeline of my career.
“Brian agreed I can show you a few things,” she says as she opens the book.
She shows me a few things that already happened, which barely fills the first quarter of the book, but she refuses to let me see too much of anything that is still yet to happen.
She says knowing the future is a curse she doesn’t wish me to bear.
“Show me the end of the book, beautiful.” I want to see my death, date year, and cause, but she refuses.
“No one should know the date of their death. But I will tell you that you die in August in bed, and it will be eleven years from this year,” she says.
1969.... August 1969. She won’t give me any more details, and I won’t press.
“Last time we were together, you mentioned I’d be drafted.”
“Yes, next month.”
I nod. “And I won’t see you during my service, will I?”
“No, but I will do everything I can to be here when you get back.”
“Two years. I won’t see you for two years after this visit. I need more time. Please, I need more. Take me home with you. If you can only stay for ten days, then take me home for ten days with you, please.”
She looks like she is thinking as she stares at the wall in front of the bed, so I hope it will go my way. I let her think as I put my nose to her hair and just breathe her in.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. There have been enough sightings of you.” She pauses. “But then again, they are looking for a seventy-year-old you, not twenty-year-old you. No one would believe it’s actually a twenty-year-old David Miller. Brian will short circuit if I bring you home. I’ve already put him through hell these past seven months. I’ve been moody and not myself.” Then she goes quiet again.
She takes a deep breath. “Okay, but we will be confined to the house.”
I can’t believe she agreed. I turn her around, so she is straddling me, and kiss her. I’m so happy right now and so hard. Without breaking the kiss, I lift her hips and sink into her. She moans into my mouth, and I make love to her mouth at the same tempo my cock is making love to her. Soft, sweet, slow, knowing I have more time with her now.
We climax at the same time, and she collapses on my shoulder. After I stop coming on the sheets, I tuck my cock back inside its warm home inside her, and I hug her to me. I rub her back, and we both just enjoy the silence. I look over at the time and see it’s close to dinner.
“Beautiful, we need to get ready for dinner with my parents.”
“Just a few more minutes. I’m enjoying the feel of you inside me right now and the afterglow of that mind-blowing orgasm.”
That makes me proud and puts a smile on my face, so I agree. Ten minutes later, I pull out of her and help her get dressed.
“Pick an outfit for me. Something you wanted to see me in.”
I look through the clothes and pull out the white capris and a white button-down shirt with black polka dots on it. It’s very casual and not quite warm enough for a Nashville February, but we aren’t leaving the house.
“Tell me the story behind this one,” she asks as I hand her a bra and underwear.
As she gets dressed, I tell her, “I saw Marilyn Monroe wearing that outfit, and she looked so comfortable, and all I could think about was you wearing here at our house walking around bare feet and comfortable like she was.”
“Ahh yeah, she’s still alive, isn’t she? Who’s she married too? Arthur Miller, right?” she asks.
I only nod.
“I did my research of the time era wanted to know what I could. She dies from an overdose like so many stars of this time.” Then she looks me dead in the eye. “You haven’t tried any of that stuff, right? No sleeping pills, nothing to help keep you awake, or give you energy?”
I wrap my arms around her. “No, beautiful, I haven’t touched any of it. I made you a promise.”
She nods and walks to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I get dressed and follow her to the bathroom a few minutes later, and I find her tearing through cabinets and drawers with tears in her eyes. I run to her and grab her holding her to me.
“Ivy, Ivy, talk to me.”
“Ten years before your death is when the first mentions of you doing drugs is.” She is crying. I rub her back, unsure of how to calm her.
“That’s how I die, isn’t it?”
She nods and sighs. “A heart attack caused by a weakened heart due to the massive amount of drugs in your system.”
The thought terrifies me. Would I really end up doing that to myself? I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it if it were going to take me away from my Ivy. Even the chance of seeing her years from now was better than doing that to her.
“I made you a promise, beautiful, and I will always keep my promises to you. But think about it for a minute. It’s the perfect cover-up.”
She sniffled and looks up at me, confused. “What do you mean?” she asks.
“Well, I’m guessing there are rehab visits where no one sees me for weeks, right?” I ask, and she nods.
“Then I die but didn’t you say people think they saw sightings of me? That maybe people doubted my death?”
She nods again.
“What if I don’t die. What if it’s really a big cover-up... for us?” I say.
She shakes her head. “I don’t have that kind of hope. David, that would mean all this was meant to be, but I don’t think so. I think we are tempting fate.”
“Believe in me, beautiful. Believe in us. That’s all I ask. Trust me, and I promise to live my life proving I am worthy of that trust.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay.” she nods. “Brian is going to kill me for telling you all this.” She forces a smile.
I wipe the tears from her face and take a cloth and run some cold water and pat her face down. I wrap her hand in mine. “Mom and Dad are going to start eating without us.”
We walk into the dining room, and my parents stand. My mom walks over and hugs Ivy instantly.
“I’m Helen,” my mom says, and she looks at me. “I’ve never seen my son light up talking about someone the way he does when he talks about you. I’ve also never seen him so miserable when you are gone. Please tell me you are here to stay.”
Ivy smiles. “I’m just as miserable without him too, but sadly, I can't stay. He did agree to come home with me for a few days to meet everyone.” She smiles up at me.
My dad hugs Ivy as well. “Nice to see you again. Let's sit and eat. Helen is starving.” They go back to their seats. I head to my spot at the head of the table and pull out the chair directly to my right for Ivy. She sits down, and I push her in before sitting down and taking her hand.
I need that touch to remind me she is really here.
“So Ivy how long are you staying?” Mom asks.
“Ten days, same as last time.” Ivy smiles as she fills her plate with food.
“Where are you from?” Mom doesn’t miss a beat. I know her line of questions like the back of my hand, and everyone who enters my life gets them. It doesn’t matter if it’s personal or business.
“A small town you have never heard of,” Ivy takes the questions in stride.
Mom watches Ivy as though she knows she’s avoiding the questions.
“What about your family?”
Ivy goes on to tell her about being raised by her grandparents and how Brian is her family.
“So you live with this Brian?” Mom doesn’t bother hiding her disapproval on her face.
“Well, yes, I own the house, and he has helped me renovate it. Plus, it’s nice not to be alone.” Ivy looks at me before Mom continues.
“Well, what kind of job do you have to be able to own a home as a single woman?”
I can’t believe in all this time I never thought to ask her this. We’ve talked more about our pasts, too scared to think of what the future holds for us.
“Helen, maybe we should let the girl enjoy her dinner.” My dad tries step in.
“Well, if this girl means so much to David, I have a right to know about her.”
“My mom has always been protective and even more so since my singing career took off,” I lean over and tell Ivy.
“It’s okay. I promise. I’m glad you have someone who is so protective of you. It’s not uncommon for people to want to attach themselves to you for fame or money.” Ivy sets her fork down and folds her hands. She takes a deep breath, then her eyes meet my mom’s. I instantly know she is trying to find a way to associate what she does with our lives here in 1958. I make a note to ask her what she does tonight.
“Well, you know all those photos in the cookbooks of the food all done and styled perfectly? That’s what I do. The styling and photo-taking.”
“Oh, my!” my mom says. “What books? I want to look them up.”
“Nothing too big. A lot of small books, local cookbooks, some local media for diners, and ad campaigns things like that,” Ivy says in stride.
“Oh, you will have to bring some of your work one time. I’d love to see it!” Ivy nods and keeps eating. My parents share stories from when I was a kid, and they tell the story of how they met too. All the while, I only let go of Ivy’s hand when I have to cut up my dinner, or when she does, then I take her hand right back. It’s a little hard as I’m a right-handed person, but I make it work.
When dinner is over, my parents' hug Ivy again and me and then head back to their cottage. I show Ivy the changes around the house since she was here last. Most noticeably, the living is now in the living room. We sit down on the couch to watch TV, and she takes in the room.
“It's cozy.” She snuggles up with me.
“It finally feels like home now that you are here in my arms. It only felt empty since you left.”
I turn on the TV, and she picks Leave it to Beaver to watch. She says it’s a classic in her time, and I’m kind of getting excited about my visit. I think it will help me understand her on a deeper level. Then I remember our conversation at dinner.
“What is it you really do?” I ask
She smiles. “You really can read me like an open book?” she states more than asks.
“It's my job to know everything about you.”
“Well, I wasn’t completely lying. I do develop recipes or tweak already made ones and style the photos and take them, edit them, and then sell the recipes and photos to online websites. Think of it as a magazine but all digital like the photos on my phone. I sometimes do crafts too but mostly recipes.”
“Will you show me when we get to your house?”
“I’ll show you everything, David. I’m excited to share this part of my life with you.” She snuggles into me even closer.
