He's Her (7 page)

Rhett interrupted her reflections.
“He didn’t let me down. He came through like I prayed he would, although I have to admit he scared me by letting you get away before he made his peace.”

“You knew this would happen? How could you know?”

“Carrie, you’re too busy either pacifying people or putting up barriers to protect yourself, and you don’t see them. If you learn to read people clearly, most times you can understand their hearts, whether they’re true gold or a painted metal. Your grandfather watched you with the same intentness he did your grandmother. A woman who has given out so much love over the years had to have been
filled up
from someone. He was the most obvious.”

“You’re a genius. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Knowing how much he cares has made me enormously happy.”

“I know. I can feel it. And it’s a feeling I’ve personally never experienced before. Through you, I now know what a child feels when his parents truly love him. I thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Your parents never made you feel this way, did they? Any time we’ve brought up your family, you’ve shied away from the subject. Except for your brother, that is. I get a strong sense that you care for him more than the others.”

“My father, whom I buried a few days ago, was an actor who came alive only on the stage. He lived for his parts and merely existed in an alcoholic bubble when he wasn’t working. My mother died when I was five, and a few years later he remarried a woman who gave him two more children, my half-brother and sister.”

“Your father must have named you?”

“Yes, he did, the self-centered fool.”

“What was your stepmother like?”

“A scheming bimbo who caught him on the rebound. She hated me because I’m the spitting image of my mother, who was the love of my old man’s life. That stepbitch made life hell for me, and I retaliated by hating everything to do with her and hers. My irritating little brother had other ideas. He followed me around like a puppy. I didn’t want to give a damn, but he’s such a sweet guy, too nice to hurt. He came to me a few months back, wanting to work in the casino. Against my better judgment, I gave him a job, and things
seem to be panning out so far. As long as he doesn’t crowd me, we get along.”

“I know you aren’t married or you’d have spoken of a wife before now, but don’t you have girlfriends who miss you?”

“Hundreds...”

“But no one you care about. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Why do women always have to be right?”

“Why do men always have to be so irritating?”

She glanced down at her watch and jumped to her feet.
“Rhett, look at the time! It’s late. We have to go to the hospital now or they won’t let me in.”

“No! You’re beat. Go downstairs and make peace with your, ah, Poppets. Your grandmother must be biting her fingers raw, waiting to see if he smoothed your ruffled feathers. Spend the evening with them. We can see about me in the morning.”

“You darling man! Thank you. I am rather tired. You know what? You’re really very thoughtful.”

“Honey, only since I met you.”

Carrie knew he could feel her yearning for him, caring for him. She was glad. She’d never had a special boyfriend. She’d gone to an all-girls school, and her college days had sped by in a hectic whirlwind. She’d lived at home, worked two jobs to help with the costs, and stayed up half the nights catching up on her homework. There wasn’t time for fun. Middle-aged at twenty-five was pretty much how she felt. She’d missed out on so much.

Rhett was her first real experience of caring for a man other than her granddad. She had no barriers to hide behind, no artifices to employ. Like a child, she was simplicity itself. She wanted him to know her heart was opening, like the petals of a rose reacting to the sun’s hot, nourishing rays.

Carrie couldn’t remember ever spending such a delightful time with the older couple. Jokingly she’d told them about her nickname for them, whereupon her grandfather had bellowed with laughter and called her grandmother Mrs. Poppet for the rest of the evening. Even Rhett had joined in, albeit in his own illusory way. His brand of slightly sarcastic humour tickled her grandfather’s funny bone and ended up marking the occasion in a very special way.

Odd looks passed between her grandparents occasionally, and stares full of affectionate curiosity occurred more than once. Carrie was happily unaware of any intrigue. She just enjoyed each moment to the fullest.

Later, however, the older couple remained awake far into the night, discussing their granddaughter’s complete metamorphosis. Her grandmother opted for a theory of a romantic intrigue, and her granddad seemed positive Carrie needed to change jobs or have a well-deserved holiday.

All too soon the house’s occupants quieted. Rhett vanished during the time Carrie took her bath, per their nonverbal agreement. She liked having this time alone for her nightly ritual. The hot, soothing water triggered peaceful feelings of well-being. She’d missed this serenity over the last few days and absorbed the contentment with pleasure. When the water became uncomfortably cool, she levered herself out onto the nearby mat and dried her body with the large pink towel she’d laid ready.

The smell of sunshine and fresh air emanated from the fluffy nap, and she closed her eyes and drew in a huge breath. It reminded her of her childhood; Gran had always preferred the outdoors for drying clothes rather than any mechanical monster. Carrie wrapped the towel around herself, tucking in one corner.

She leaned over to brush her long, naturally streaked, golden hair, and from the corner of her eye she glimpsed a silhouette of her partial nakedness in the long mirror attached to the back of the door. She quelled her timidity, her childlike shyness, and dropped the towel, preening this way and that. She wondered if her body would be attractive to a man. She shook out the masses of waves and they slowly settled around her back and shoulders, shining—glowing—a curtain of silken strands.

The protruding pink tips of her high, voluptuous breasts peeked out from the glossy mass. She thought her breasts too large, unaware they were beautifully formed, full and flawless. She assumed her hips were oversized in comparison to her slenderness, but she didn’t realize the way they rounded out from her tiny waist achieved a perfect frame for her trim derriere.

She zeroed in on her long legs and decided their length was a disability, without seeing the curvaceous thighs and calves as attractive. She didn’t exactly feel ugly, but...

“You are exquisite.”
His thoughts blasted through her consciousness. She whipped around and grabbed the dropped towel, holding it in front of her.

“You lied to me! You told me you couldn’t see!” Incensed, she spit the words out, speaking aloud for the first time in their acquaintance. Her hair whipped around her head, leaving wispy strands to cover a portion of her face. Her eyes shot bullets of rage that would have splintered the glass if not for the fact that the look had no substance and only mirrored her emotions, which came through to him clearly. She was wildly furious and, in her anger, a glorious sight to behold.

“I told you I didn’t have eyes. It’s the truth. I can only see through yours.”
He didn’t have the ability to answer out loud unless she allowed it, so his words entered her mind in the most soothing tone she’d ever heard him use.

“Oh, God! I never thought.”
She covered her eyes to block his sight and to hide the forming tears.

“Carrie, I’ve never lied to you, and I’m telling you as a man—well, at least from a man’s point of view—you are truly beautiful. Your body is more lovely than that of many of the showgirls in Las Vegas, and you should be proud of your beauty, not ashamed of nature’s gifts.”

Her only answer was a moan.

“I’ve never felt so inadequate, so helpless. Carrie, if you could only look at me, you would see that I’m telling you the truth… I’ve got it! Close your eyes. Please, Sweetheart.”

They were still closed from the agony of her unveiling, from her discovery that he’d watched every sensual move she’d made. She thought maybe she’d never open them again.

Slowly, a feeling started to flood through her. He was allowing her to feel his innermost thoughts. He completely opened himself to her, and she knew at once he had spoken the truth. Her breath caught. She bit her lip. She grabbed the sink to stop herself from falling to the floor as waves of desire overcame all her senses.

“You’re beautiful.”

“No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Have you never been with a man? No, don’t answer. I can tell you haven’t.”

“Is it nice, making love?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘nice’ is the word I’d use—it’s more like incredible pleasure or satisfaction, even fulfillment. ‘Nice’ doesn’t do the act justice.”

She yearned to be pleasured and satisfied and even fulfilled. She understood he could sense that, because she’d opened as much to him as he had to her.

“I can show you. Let me, Carrie—please let me show you. Go to your room and lie down on your bed. Close your eyes and give yourself to me.”

She did as he asked. Leaving her nightgown draped over her chair, she crawled naked into her virgin bed.

His words filled her mind.
“You’re breathtaking, Carrie.”

Her heart pumped quickly, and each gulp of air she inhaled through open lips became quivery and formed into soft moans. Heat saturated and warmed every crevice of her body, from the tips of her clenched fingers to the bottoms of her feet. Anticipation quickened inside her. A hot fullness in her lower body had her clenching and unclenching her inner muscles, while moving, undulating, gasping. The smooth coldness of the cotton sheets absorbed some of the heat but couldn’t keep up as the waves built.

She whispered inwardly.
“What are you doing to me? Where are these sensations coming from? They’re indescribable. I can hardly breathe.”

“I’m making love to you in the purest way two people can. The vibrations of exhilaration I’m creating are flowing through your mind and being experienced by your body. This is the utopia of desire. The flesh isn’t love’s true medium—the spirit experiences at a much higher level. Close your eyes and feel me feeling you.”

“Oh, my God! I can! I do!”
She felt him everywhere at once. Delight skimmed over every inch of her trembling body. Her breathing quickened, straining through her open lips. Soft whimpers gave evidence that her insides were on fire.

Not understanding what was happening to her, she became alarmed and struggled to shut down her body’s responses.

“Stop it. Stop fighting me. Come with me, Carrie. Let me love you.”

“Yes, oh, yes. Please.”
Her panic receded and again her excitement increased. She didn’t know why she begged or for what, but she wanted whatever “it” was more than her next breath. Her brain twirled flashes of lights and her skin felt ultra sensitive as she quickly lost all control.

Sweat pooled over her writhing body and the strong smell of fresh line-hung bed linen faded. Only sensations existed. Her breasts were responding, growing, aching. Her lower body pulsated while her flesh vibrated with desire. The anticipation built until it took over and captured her in indescribable passion.

“You’re mine.”
His whisper drove her body upwards.
“I’m yours.”
And she was driven over. The climax ripped through and pleasured her from the top of her sweat-soaked head to the ends of her curling toes.

She’d felt heat and passion and love, but there was a missing equation. She was alone. A sob broke from her quivering lips.

“Rhett, I wanted you to be here with me.”

“I was with you, for every single moment. I sensed everything you were feeling, my love. I’ve never experienced anything more incredibly emotional in my entire life. I can truly understand—when it comes to being alive, the body is just the outer shell. Our inner core is where the power truly exists, inside you, where I am. I swear it’s the truth.”

“I was constantly aware of you, but I’d have liked to have touched you
and been touched by you, with your arms and lips, with your body next to mine.”
Her shy acknowledgements disarmed and pleased him.

“My love for you exceeds my need for your physical body. But it’ll happen soon. Trust me! We will be together. Sleep now, baby. Let yourself enjoy the aftermath, so you can drift off into dreamland, where I’ll be waiting for you.”

Surprisingly enough, she did dream of him that night—vivid, intense dreams where the two of them pleasured each other over and over again, insatiably, all night long.

The next morning Carrie slept in. By the time Gran woke her, it was far too late to stop at the hospital before class.