My jaw dropped open. How could he say that word and make it sound so endearing?
He laughed at me, and my rare speechlessness.
Finally, I said, “Dinner?”
“Famished.”
“Go sit down. I’ll bring everything over.”
He gave me one more kiss, then let me go to take a seat on a teak chair. “I totally forgot I had these chairs,” he said.
I got ice cubes, made us some vodka and soda refreshments, and brought the drinks and the Salad Niçoise over to the table. He kept grabbing my ass and thighs as I served up the food.
“You can’t get enough of me,” I teased.
He pulled me down onto his lap and started pillaging me through my clothes. I squealed and got away.
“Come give me a lap dance,” he said.
“These little folding chairs aren’t rated for lap dancing. I’ve got a lot to shake, and I don’t want you to break.”
He grinned and pulled his chair in to the table as I took my seat across from him.
“I’m glad you have a lot to shake,” he said.
I pursed my lips and poked at the green beans with my fork.
After a moment, he said, “What’s going on?”
“Just thinking. Me and my body are cool with each other. I like it when men appreciate my curves, but I only want to hear about it so much. Don’t tell me you like my booty, show me, you know what I mean? That’s how it is with some guys, but with you, Mr. Sexy Model Man, you’ve certainly shown me your appreciation, and I plan to return the favor right after dinner.”
He waggled his eyebrows and sipped his drink. “I like the sound of that.”
“I’m going to yank off your clothes, and I’m going to worship your cock—worship it like some pre-historic cave girl who’s never seen a c**k before, because she’s been raised in an all-female tribe. I’m going to sing a song to your cock, and lavish it with all my attention. Then I’m going to suck it so hard the top will turn purple.”
Keith let out a nervous laugh.
“Oh, you’d better be scared,” I said. “This cave girl has been having dreams about your pointy thing. Witch-doctor-mushroom-juice-prophecy type dreams. And tonight is the night of legend.”
“We’re going all Clan of the Cave Bear tonight?”
“As soon as we’re done eating our salad.”
“I can work with that.” He took a bite of the food I’d made. “Mmm. This is good. And I’m not just saying that because you terrify me.”
I started eating my dinner, and for a minute, I worried that I’d oversold the evening’s planned activities. I had some vague ideas about prostate massage, but that was about it—no cave-woman costume or bones to twist into my hair. Then I remembered that Keith was a man, and as long as I put his c**k somewhere wet, and didn’t bite it too much, he’d be happy.
“How was landscaping today?” I asked.
“Not bad. Remember that restaurant we went to on our first date?”
“That was a date?” I waved my hand. “Never mind. We don’t need labels. Yes, I remember the place.”
“Edgar and his family were one of my first clients. Really good customers, and nice people, if you remember. I just went to oversee some work my company is doing for them.”
“But you’re not sweaty or dirty.”
He grinned. “My manager is, though. And the three guys we have working for us. Actually, the manager is set to take over the whole business, because I’m switching to modeling full-time now.”
“What about your sister? Isn’t she your partner?”
“She’ll be partners with Mikey now. This is all for the best, because she and I were too entwined in each other’s lives. Now I get to be on my own, make my own decisions.”
“I feel scared for you, going off to Italy by yourself.”
“We have to do things that scare us, or hurt us, or we don’t grow.”
I sighed. “I don’t want to grow anymore. I’m feeling pretty good about where I’m at. I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I’d sincerely prefer to never cry again.”
He quirked one dark eyebrow up. “What about crying at weddings?”
“I’d rather just be happy and smile. My cousin Marita’s wedding was nice. Everybody was too tense about the age gap to get all emotional, which was fine by me.” I picked up my glass and chugged the remainder. “I don’t like being overwhelmed, good or bad, where you feel like a glass that’s being overfilled with water.”
“Meditation really helps with that feeling.”
I rolled my eyes. “How can thinking about all my problems do anything to solve them?”
“Let’s say you need to do a math problem. Long division. You need to do it on paper. Are you better off using a fresh sheet of paper, or the back of an envelope that’s all covered in scribbles?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Don’t get ahead of me. Visualize your two options and tell me. Blank sheet, or scribbled-on envelope?”
“The blank sheet, obviously.”
“Meditation isn’t about thinking through all your problems at once. It’s for thinking about nothing. So you become the blank sheet, and then later, you can take on your problems, one at a time.”
Maybe it was the vodka, or his model-gorgeous face, but Keith’s explanation made some sense.
“I’m really glad you met me,” I said. Laughing, I corrected myself, “That I met you!”
He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it. “How strong were these drinks? I can’t feel my tongue.”
“The first time I got drunk, it was with my girlfriends, and we kept trying to measure how drunk we were by standing on one foot with our eyes closed. The funniest thing was my best friend, Shayla, had better balance drunk than she did sober. I guess she relaxed and stopped trying so hard.”
“Sounds like a metaphor for life.”
I chuckled and went back to my salad.
We talked for a bit more over dinner, about life and philosophy. Keith had a lot of good ideas. I didn’t agree with all of them, but I could see how they might work for other people.
After we’d finished eating, Keith jumped up to do the dishes. I stood beside him and dried after he washed. At one point, I put my head on his shoulder, and for a minute, it didn’t feel like we were playing house at all. Our relationship was real, and our connection to each other was real.