Fidelity - SF6 (18 page)

"I have a bar in my room. I’ll get a bottle of something and meet you in the garden. It’s too nice a night to be cooped up inside. Meet me by the gazebo in ten minutes."

Jamie descended the back stairs, checking her watch as she went. It was 9:30, and she and Ryan had decided to play it by ear for their evening call. She decided to page her when she was back in her room for the night, and if Ryan wasn’t available, she could call Jamie from the pay phone when she could free up the time. Guessing that an hour or so would be plenty of time to have a drink with her mother, Jamie assumed she would be back in her room in time to catch Ryan just after her dinner.

As she waited in the gazebo, she thought about what the bartender, Daniel, had said earlier. Her mother had been drinking gin all afternoon, then she'd had at least two cocktails before dinner, and Jamie had counted three wine courses. Jamie had nursed each glass of wine, discreetly refusing the near-constant attempts of the waiters to refill her glass. Even so, she felt a little tipsy as she sat in the pleasant stillness waiting for her mother.
I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I’d had as much as Mother has. Does she drink like this all of the time? Maybe Cassie was right when she called her an alcoholic. Well,
she reasoned,
maybe we’ll get the chance to talk about how much she drinks. But it’s probably best to approach her when I know she’s sober. And that’s not tonight.

Catherine arrived moments later, carrying a bottle of cognac and two small brandy snifters. Even as a young child, Jamie had been able to drink a small glass of the intensely flavored amber liquid, and though she didn’t drink it often, she still had a fondness for it. They both settled into the padded white wicker chairs, with Catherine gently running a hand over the graceful curve of an arm. "My grandmother bought these chairs when I was just a little girl," she recollected. "They’ve held up remarkably well, haven’t they?"

"They’re wonderful," Jamie agreed, a flash of memory startling her. "I remember sitting on Grandfather’s lap in one of these chairs. Wow, I can see it like it was yesterday."

A heavy sigh escaped from Catherine’s lips as she thought of her father holding the young Jamie. "He was quite a gardener, you know. Every evening after dinner he’d bring you out here and show you some of his favorite roses. Then you’d sit on his lap while he smoked his evening cigar."

Jamie shook her head while emitting a soft laugh. "I wonder if that’s why I like cigars so much." She didn’t add that she didn’t much care for them on Ryan’s breath the day after, since she thought that was a bit too much information for her mother.

"Your father picked up the habit from my father, you know. I’ve been surrounded by cigar smoke since I was born."

"I didn’t know that," Jamie mused.

Catherine laughed as she suggested, "That’s one very big plus about loving a woman, Jamie. You won’t have to deal with those nasty cigars."

"Umm-hmm," she murmured noncommittally, keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, sipping cognac, while they took in the evening sounds. The garden was alive with crickets, small birds and even a nightingale. Lulled by the rhythmic chirping of the multitude of crickets, Jamie was nearly asleep before she knew it. Taking a few deep breaths she concentrated on the myriad of scents that surrounded her. The ocean’s tang was still noticeable, even with the profusion of trees and flowers, each giving off its own distinctive scent. There were close to 1,000 rose bushes in the expansive gardens, many of them species roses, some of them from the time the house was built. Jamie was particularly fond of the ones that emitted a sensual hint of myrrh, and she let her mind wander to how delightful that scent would be on Ryan.

"Mom," she began, the unfamiliar term feeling a little odd as it rolled off her tongue. "I know I’ve said this before, but I want to thank you again for your support. I can’t tell you how much harder it would be for me to handle if both you and Daddy were opposed to my relationship."

"I’m not opposed, Jamie," she said, and for the first time, Jamie detected a hesitancy in her comment.

"That sounded pretty equivocal," the younger woman said with a touch of concern.

Catherine sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. "I ahh…I don’t know if this is really the time to bring this up," she said.

"Why not? I really like that we’re being honest with each other, Mom. Tell me what you’re thinking."

"It’s a little hard to put into words, Dear. There’s just something…"

"What, Mom? This is important. Please, don’t worry about hurting my feelings. "I want to know how you really feel about this."

"All right," she conceded, taking in a deep breath. "I’ve told you before that it concerns me that you’ve had so little experience with love."

"Yes," Jamie acknowledged, "you have. And I’ve told you that Ryan surpasses all of my requirements."

"Yes, you have, Dear." Taking in another breath, she tried a different tactic to make her point. "Would you consider Jack to be a very passionate man, Jamie?"

"Uhh…" she gaped, never having foreseen this avenue of questioning. "He was passionate about a few things, but no, in general, I’d say he was much more logical and deliberate than passionate."

"Umm-hmm," Catherine mused, "that’s as I expected. He seemed like a very nice young man, and in many ways I would expect him to make a good husband. But I always thought you were making a mistake to settle for such a logical choice, Jamie."

"Okay…but Jack’s quite out of the picture now, Mother."

"I realize that, Dear," she agreed. "But it seems to me that you’ve applied the same logical thought process to choosing Ryan. Now that might be exactly how you want your life to go, Jamie, but I can’t help but think that one day you’ll regret never having been intimate with a man who is truly passionate. I just don’t want you to miss out on that experience."

Jamie tried to look calm but her mind was racing.
I really, really, really don’t want to hear about my parents being in bed together. And of all the things I’d say my father is, passionate is not one of them. I guess you just can’t tell from the outside.

"I don’t have any intention of missing out on passion, Mother. I have a very fulfilling relationship with Ryan. I have all of the passion that I’ll ever need."
And all that I can handle.

"But Honey," she explained, "it just can’t be like that with a woman. I see how you are with each other, Dear. I’ve been with you several times and, while she seems sweet and thoughtful and very caring, I just don’t see how she could fulfill you like a man could. It’s been on my mind since I saw Ryan say goodbye to you at the airport on Saturday night. I just don’t see any passion between you two, and it occurs to me that perhaps you just don’t know what you’re missing."

This line of questioning was starting to piss Jamie off. She knew that her mother was well-intentioned, but it annoyed her to think that she would assume that women couldn’t be wild together. "I have no way to prove that you’re wrong, Mother, but I can assure you that I’m more than satisfied." She spoke with more asperity than she had intended, and her mother immediately tried to explain further.

"Jamie, don’t be upset with me," she urged, "but when I saw her kiss you, it just looked so...friendly. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course, but if that’s all you ever know I’m afraid that you’ll regret it in the future."

Talk about a plan backfiring.
"Mother, we try to act discreet in public, and we’re both sensitive to your discomfort with our physical affection. Just before we reached the waiting room I pulled her off into another concourse, and the kisses we gave each other were far more friendly than the one we gave each other in front of you."

"I can tell this is bothering you, Jamie," she said slowly. "I think I’ve offended you."

Taking in a deep breath of her own, Jamie reminded herself to allow her mother to make her point without jumping down her throat. She knew that her mother was trying to make what she assumed was a helpful suggestion, and she wanted to hear her out. "It’s okay, Mother," she assured her. "Just because I don’t agree with your point, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it. Please go on."

"I swear I’m not trying to think for you, Jamie, or make your choices for you. I’m just trying to recall what it was like to be your age. Goodness! Your father and I would have made a spectacle of ourselves in that terminal if I was leaving for a week."

"Well, to be honest, it’s a little different for us. We have to be more discreet than you and Daddy did. It’s no fun to be stared at and get dirty looks for being loving towards one another."

Catherine nodded slowly, lost in her own reverie, and letting the loss of her own passion wash over her. She knew that what she and Jim had left was just a tiny glimmer of the fire that once burned between them, and she assumed that if Jamie and Ryan started out with merely a friendly feeling it would all be extinguished quickly. "I don’t think we could have controlled ourselves if every eye in the airport was on us, Jamie. It’s impossible to be rational when a passionate man takes you in his arms and just overwhelms you with his power and his drive and the force of his need." She sighed deeply, then recalled herself to the point she was making. "A woman can’t possibly do that for you, Jamie. I don’t doubt that she makes you feel very cared for and nurtured. And I’m sure that she loves you and pleases you sexually. But don’t ignore the lure of the force and the intensity that a man could bring to you. It’s just something that I’d hate for you to miss, Jamie. Every woman should be swept off her feet at least once in her life."

She’s already swept me off my feet, and right into bed, more times than I can count.
"Okay, Mom," Jamie laughed. "Ryan said that I shouldn’t be too forthcoming about our relationship, and I agreed with her, but you’ve got some goofy notions that I just have to address."

"Goofy?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow. "I don’t recall the last time someone said that I was goofy."

Patting her gently on the thigh, Jamie nodded slowly. "Your ideas are just plain goofy, and I’m gonna set you straight…as it were."

"Well, well, well, do continue, Dear." Catherine cocked her head slightly, her twinkling eyes encouraging Jamie to proceed.

"Here’s the deal, Mom. You seem to think that having a penis is a corollary to having passion. Not true. To be honest, not having one can be a very good thing. Ryan is always, and I do mean
always
, ready to perform. She never has been, and she never will be, impotent. She will never ejaculate prematurely. She will never go limp just when I need her the most."

Catherine didn’t say a word in response to Jamie’s little soliloquy. Her wide eyes indicated that she was a little shocked by her daughter’s directness, but Jamie honestly felt that the only way to allay her mother’s concerns was to be brutally honest.

"Now I’m not saying that penises can’t be fun. I’ll admit there was something kinda nice about being face to face while you shared the same pleasurable sensations. And I’m sure that being with a man who really knows how to use his penis would also be great. But not having a penis between us is not a problem, believe me."

"I believe you, Dear," Catherine said, still a little wide-eyed. "I just assumed…"

"I think I know what you assumed, Mother. And I could give you a rundown on all of the ways Ryan can fill my…needs. But I think that might be more information than you really want."

Catherine’s rapidly nodding head assured Jamie that she had learned plenty.

"You also seem to think that a woman can’t be wildly intense and powerful in bed. Also not true," she declared. "Have you ever seriously looked at Ryan’s body?"

"Well, umm, yes, she has a lovely body," Catherine said. "Very tall, with that trim waist, very much like a model."

Jamie laughed out loud at that assessment. Then it dawned on her why her mother thought this. "You’ve never seen her in anything that showed off her body, have you?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, I’ve not seen her in a dress, if that’s what you mean."

"Oh no, that’s not what I mean at all, Mother. Did you hear me tell the sales clerk that Ryan weighs about 180 pounds?"

"180?! No, I didn’t," she gaped. "How is that possible?"

"That’s possible because about forty pounds of that 180 is pure, hard, sexy muscle," Jamie declared. "Hard earned, well-used muscle. And if you want to feel well loved, let me tell you, nothing is sexier than having her pick me up like I don’t weigh a thing and hold me in those big, strong arms. When she does that, I run my hands down her back and feel those bands of hard power that lie just under that smooth skin, and I want to swoon!"

Jamie was so wrapped up in her vision that she didn’t even glance up when Catherine leaned her head back and let the remainder of her brandy roll down her throat in a single gulp.

Still intent on giving her mother an accurate picture of their relationship, she continued. "You know, you also don’t have to be a man to have a powerful sex drive, Mother. We make love almost every day, often twice a day, and I’ve never failed to have an orgasm with her. Never! Actually, I usually have two, and quite often three in an evening. She can be so tender, and sweet, and gentle that it breaks my heart to look into those gorgeous blue eyes. But two minutes later, those eyes can be glittering with need, and my pulse starts to race."