Monk's Castle
Part Four
by Jack Lennox4
I pulled to the curb, the facade of Jenna's five-story apartment building on our right taking a blinding hit from the early afternoon sun. Out my window and across the river, the casinos carried on with oblivious celebration.
"I didn't think you could be so judgmental." I'd decided I wasn't going to just let the issue die.
"What do you mean?" The sullen expression that had settled on her face dissolved. I was considered with innocent brown eyes.
"You've been nursing this attitude all day, Jen. I don't know what you have against my family ...that's right, my family."
"I don't have anything against anyone." Her purity gave way to a more mindful defense.
"So I take it you're looking forward to meeting Monk and Traci under better circumstances."
Several moments passed in silence, our eyes locked in confrontation -- enough time for me to fear what she might say. "No, I'm not looking forward to it. It's going to be a bit awkward, don't you think?"
I breathed again. "We did make great first impressions all 'round," I managed keeping a straight face. We sat through several more moments lost in thought.
"You have to admit, it's a bit bizarre," she offered.
"It's not a Rockwell painting, but so what?"
"And you're comfortable living there?"
"We're all muddling through, Jen. If you're lucky enough to find a little human companionship and support, you grab it and hang on. I take it you're still not exactly sold on what's going on there."
"I don't know ...I guess she's better off with Monk than if she didn't have him."
"She's a lot better off, I think." We digested that for awhile. "Forget all that..." I continued. "What about the apartment? What about us?"
"Not anything against your family, but I'd like you out of that place more than ever."
That was good news, delivered in that direct, unequivocal way of hers.
"I wouldn't be moving out to get away from them; I'd be moving in to be with you." There, I'd said it.
She wore the inscrutable grin I'd become so attracted to. "Well, then maybe we'd better go take a look." With a wink she was already out the door.
*****
"The place looks great."
We'd entered to a modest space with kitchen on the right and a cozy living room on the left, the rooms partially divided by a short counter. Straight ahead a narrow hallway separated, what I assumed were, the bedrooms ...a smaller bedroom and adjacent bath, and a second larger bedroom. It wasn't that much more spacious that Monk's place but enough for two.
"Thanks ...but must admit, I worked like a dog this morning getting it cleaned up ...a relief now, after seeing how neat your place is."
"That's mostly Monk ...must have learned it in the military ...I kinda like things tidy myself." I gave her a little wink.
"You're welcome to keep it as tidy as you like," she smiled and winked back.
"Hey, I expect you to do your share, roommate."
"Sorry ...I'd better warn you now. I'm not fond of housework."
"Well, you'd better get fond of it."
"Oh yeah... what ya gonna do? Spank me?" She made a face, something between playful and sarcastic, before proceeding to the kitchen. "Thirsty?"
I was momentarily stuck on the spanking remark. The two words were a little jolt of adrenaline. She offered me some diet cola.
"Got regular? Or a beer would be nice."
"No, sorry. I'm watching my figure." She posed unabashedly.
"I've been watching it, too ...your figure, that is," I grinned.
"I can see it's going to be different with a guy living here. No more wandering around au natural, as I often like to do," she mugged theatrically.
"There's no reason to change your whole lifestyle just for me."
She feigned a laugh mutely and offered me whatever I could find in the fridge. I settled on a bottled water and sat across from her at the small kitchen table.
"Denise moved out yesterday," she informed me between sips at her drink. "She's still paying for the whole month, but you can move in today if you want." She made it sound so easy.
"I guess it would only take a few trips to move my stuff," I mused. "If things don't work out, I can always just haul it back."
Straw in mouth, she regarded me with deadpan eyes. That poker-faced expression she can assume at any odd moment never fails to charm. "I'm glad you're optimistic about it," she stated blandly after relinquishing her straw.
"Let's just say, I'm trying to keep from floating away on my expectations."
"You have expectations?" she couldn't help grinning.
"Yes. Don't you?"
Her brown eyes were penetrating. They sparkled with animation. "You never know what might happen," she chanted. "But I always expect the best."
After finishing our drinks, she offered to complete my tour of the apartment. We'd decided that, should I decide to make it my new address, I would take the smaller bedroom. She'd move over to the other room -- sort of like seniority taking the promotion. That was fine with me; my move from Monk's would be an advancement for me, as well. She flipped on the light and gestured expansively as if to say, Yes, it's grand, and it's all yours. The simple room was already empty except for a twin-sized bed and night table huddled in one corner and a modest dresser with mirror holding up another wall. The closet could accommodate the rest of my vast holdings.
The bathroom at the end of the short hallway was a definite improvement over Monk's little water closet. It offered a long counter for the sink over which a wall-sized mirror presided. Behind a pleated shower curtain, the bathtub looked big enough for two. The floor was pretty tiles covered generously with two fluffy pink throw rugs ...very feminine, but then I'm secure with my manhood.
I followed her out the door of the bathroom and across to her new bedroom. It was a little dim, but only because the large window on the west-facing wall was sheathed with thick opaque curtains. Impulsively, I crossed the room and pulled them open allowing brilliant sunlight to burst into the room like a concerted swat team. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked out over an impressive sight.
"Pretty nice, huh?" I heard Jenna's voice behind me.
Across the highway, a paved lot stretched naked with only a shack renting jet skis off to the left. Beyond a string of wooden pilings, the river was a lake in motion sparkling in the sun. Rio Colorado means Red River in Spanish, so named because of the mud that once gave it a reddish-brown color. The silt and sediments of the river are now trapped behind a dam at the bottom of Lake Powell, which you may remember as my glorious birthplace. Out the window, I looked out on the rippling blue-green water, its backdrop the quirky row of casinos and a distant mountain range thrown in for artistic measure. I figured when the sun went down, the casinos would paint another pretty neat picture. An unobstructed view of the river seemed like an extraordinary bit of luck, even a good omen, if you believe in such things. "Why don't you come for dinner this evening and, after the show, come back and stay the night?" she suggested. We were standing in the living room where I'd just finished gushing over the comfyness of the couch and grandness of the 35-inch TV. A quick trip to the store for beer and chips and I might just be ready to call it home.
"I bet you're a great cook," I said hopefully.
"I make a few things. How does nachos with guacamole and picadillo salsa, Tex-Mex meatballs, and chicken tamale pie sound?"
"I don't know. Is it spicy?"
"Of course it's spicy. Don't tell me you've lived here all your life and haven't eaten Southwest cuisine?"
"I've eaten it," I replied defensively. "Well, some things anyway."
"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to expand your palate." Her eyes looked up into mine. She had moved in to stand so close I could have rested my chin on her forehead.
"Hot peppers and I don't always get along," I explained, but my mind was on Jenna and the tiny space between us.
"You'd better bring antacids then."
"You're incorrigible," I chuckled.
"Am not," she stated as a simple matter of fact.
"Yes, you are... at least a few times today I've had a good mind to put you over my knee." My hands were at her sides, just beneath where her top ended. Her skin was soft and smooth.
She snorted. "Yeah, right. You? Mr. Nice Guy? You're about the most passive guy I know ... I mean that as a compliment," she added sweetly, as if she thought she might have hurt my feelings."
"A passive guy who just happens to believe a naughty girl should be spanked on her bottom," I replied sincerely.
She giggled. "I'll believe it when I see it." Her hands were under my ears, stroking my neck.
"Actually, it's more about feeling than seeing."
Her eyes bore into mine with an arresting candor. Her mouth was close, and I had never felt a stronger desire to kiss a woman.
"I like my massages deep and my food spicy," she didn't divert those clear brown eyes from mine for a moment.
"You're sure of that?" I asked after recovering my voice. "That cuisine might be a lot hotter than you imagine."
"I guess I'll just have to trust you again, Donny-boy." Raised on her toes she pulled down on the back of my neck.
I placed my lips against hers, breathing her in. Electric moments without time passed between us, our mouths barely touching, exploring heady angles at which they might fit together in sweet bliss. When you've never kissed that special person before, it's like tasting a flavor for the very first time; there's no way to know what the sensation will be like. Jenna was the discovery of semi-sweet chocolate or a crisp red apple. She was a rare delicacy to be savored. My arms around her, I pulled her close, the feel of her body fueling my arousal, a very determined head of steam already firmly behind it. I backed off and, cupping her jaw gently, brushed her mouth with my thumb. Her eyes were wide and cloudy, her breath warm as she took my thumb in her mouth and teased its tip with the tip of her tongue. She wasn't helping things.
I pulled her close again, her face to my chest. I thought about how our lives are filled with countless moments. Everything in the room seemed sharper, as if somehow the camera inside me was photographing that moment for posterity. Some moments are endings, some are beginnings, and those are moments we don't forget. Jenna raised her head, and when I kissed her again, it tasted like the beginning of forever.
*****
It was in the manner of a guest that I rapped gently on the door to my new home. A bag slung over my shoulder held enough stuff for spending the night; I planned to make the full move the next day. It still felt more like a date, and I waited in the fifth-floor hallway of the apartment building with anticipation. Jenna and I had reluctantly parted company earlier that afternoon, each to our own endeavor. The door swung open to soft music and a savory smell of Southwest cooking.
She stood framed pretty in the doorway. Silent, she regarded me with receptive eyes, her mouth knowing but secretive. I looked her up and down shamelessly, wanting to memorize everything about her. She wore little makeup, but still appeared somewhat more polished, and her hair had been tended to artfully, falling loosely over her ears. Her halter top, beige with delicate brown zigzag patterns cleverly following the contours of her feminine form, plunged from around her slender neck to hug her waist tightly, her shoulders and under her arms revealed smooth and pale. She wore light linen capri pants with extra pockets on the sides just above the knee, the leggings stopping well short above her ankles and her feet in sandals bare and unadorned. Several moments passed, and then I remembered to breathe.
"Well, you're very handsome," she stated squarely. I considered the fact that she had me beat badly in the looks department, but I was glad I'd made a little effort anyway. I'd picked my favorite embroidered white dress shirt, cut nicely, the sleeves rolled jauntily above my elbows so as not to look too formal in opposition to blue jeans ...and the jeans were new, so color me smart. I'm a bit on the rangy side, which I suppose is well-adapted to a wanderer's experience. My hair's full and dark; my eyes are brown like Jenna's, and they held her there in the doorway for enraptured moments before she asked me in.
"Be my Valentine?" I pulled out of my bag the small gift I'd picked out at the mall that afternoon. I handed her the red heart-shaped box filled with Belgian chocolates, a modest offering but at least much more decadent than a bag of M&Ms ...She looked pleased.
"In July?" she asked, her arms around my neck, my mouth still wet where she'd kissed it.
"You weren't here in February."
She kissed me again and pointed me towards a bowl of tortilla chips she'd fried up fresh. The salsa was a little too zesty, so I stuck with the guacamole. I might have eaten more, but my help was needed in the kitchen.
Two skillets sat on the stove, one covered with something simmering inside, the other waiting heaped with little meatballs. She got the gas burner started, then handed me a small spatula with instructions to brown the meatballs, pour off the drippings, then add what was in the bowl on the counter. Meanwhile, she would be tending to the other pot that held some chicken, corn, and salsa mixture, and also greasing a large casserole to the side. She looked like she knew what she was doing, and I attempted to appear skilled with the spatula.
Between stirrings I watched as she poured the chicken mixture into the casserole, then on top of that she spread a goopy flour mixture made with cornmeal. With culinary sagacity I surmised that the dish was the chicken tamale pie, and sure enough, she popped the casserole in the oven to bake for 25 minutes. After I'd added my bowl of tomatoes, green pepper, and onion to the meatballs, I was congratulated and handed a glass shaker containing chili powder. Not just any chili powder mind you, but homemade, she bragged ...a do-it-yourself bomb baked up with Ancho chiles, toasted cumin seeds, dried Chiles de Arbol and chipolte for the kicker. Thanks to her expertise, I even knew how to pronounce each ingredient correctly.
"So it's hot, right?" Nothing gets by me. "A little," she lied.
I sprinkled quickly, my finger deftly blocking most of the poison from corrupting my innocent meatballs. She wasn't fooled by the slight of hand.
"You're such a wuss," she sighed and held out her hand for the shaker. I relinquished it thinking she'd put the evil mix back in whatever dark place it was buried, but instead, she sprinkled the mace liberally over my nicely browned balls. It was the cavalier way she stuck out her tongue, though, that caused me to react in a less than gentlemanly manner. The thin metal spatula just happened to be in my hand when I pressed her against the counter and gave her a very quick solid spank on the lower right cheek of her thinly-clad bottom, followed by an identical wallop on the right. Fortunately, I'd rinsed the springy implement off in the sink, or it might have left a more noticeable stain on the seat of her pants.
Jenna's reaction was immediate. She yelped, grabbed the offended area and rubbed furiously. She stood staring at me in open-mouthed disbelief. The shock became an articulated pout when I failed to offer either sympathy or apology.
"You're a brute," she informed me, her eyes wounded.
"I thought I was a wuss. Which is it, Sweetie?"
"You're a wussy brute." The pout remained.
Bending down, my hands found their way to her backside, and I pulled her close against me. I fondled her on a rounded place I'd never touched before, feeling smooth supple flesh through soft fabric, hoping the sharp sting I'd caused her had by then spread into a nice warm glow. "You're an adorable brat."
"I'm not a brat."
"Okay ...you're not a brat. What do you call an adorable girl who needs to be spanked?"
"A Goddess," she stated sulkily without missing a beat.
I laughed, but briefly. "Yes, I'd have to agree." I kissed her. Her mouth was hungry. Her body was moving, its friction causing a response from mine. The meatballs were boiling.
After we managed a disengagement, she lowered the flame on the stove and stirred, then held the shaker over the skillet as if to sprinkle more chili powder. She looked at me impishly.
"If you put any more of that on there, those meatballs are not going to be the hottest thing in this room." I brandished the spatula. She giggled and placed a cover over the pot to simmer.
While our dinner baked and boiled for another twenty minutes, we sat on the couch talking softly and listening to music, Jenna lovely in my lap. I was simmering a bit, myself, until the timer chirped, and the object of my hunger turned to food. The crust on the tamale pie was golden brown, and I was assigned the task of cutting it into wedges while Jenna arranged the meatballs with tortilla chips and shredded cheese. It was all delicious, and with the aid of much bottled water, I survived our first home-cooked meal together. But the night was still young.
*****
When I was small, I had a fever. They thought I was going to die. I only remember it as a dream, a liquid voyage drawing me out into infinity, untethered from the bounded form of consensual reality, connecting me to the timeless undifferentiated whole. I was frightened, but I was free. Maybe it was the dark. I lay in a place new and unfamiliar. Without bearings, the small bedroom no longer held me within its walls, but alone, I turned inward, floated, time and place transcended. Warmth ...outside ...inside, the black smothering like a fever. Then again, maybe it was just the damn chili powder.
I should have been sleeping. It was late, and after two shows, my energy would normally have been depleted in a way more sapping than any kind of normal labor. A hot shower and plenty of solitude had brought about a thick relaxation, almost a trance, but in the dark, sleep wouldn't come. For awhile I could see nothing, my only sense of anything beyond the small bed on which I rested the soft uniform sound of rushing air from the vent overhead. Then ... as that air surrounded me, it became color ...rivers of color ...in every hue. Each color was a possibility streaming from me in all directions. I knew that if I allowed it to happen, I could be swept down the current of any color I chose. Unnerved, I held on tight. I had the power to determine my direction, and yet I felt overwhelmed by fear and self-doubt, helpless against forces beyond my control. When the fan shut off, the sound of air gave way to a sweet voice singing.
There was a boy...
A very strange enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea.
A little shy
and sad of eye
But very wise was he.I could hear Jenna through the wall, her pretty contralto muffled but distinct, the piano splash of water as she bathed. In my mind's eye, I saw her there, pink and pure. The fever raged.
And then one day
A magic day he passed my way.
And while we spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to me, "The greatest thing
you'll ever learn
Is just to love
and be loved
in return."
(Nature Boy - Eden Ahbez)I arose in the dark. The colors were gone, and there were no directions to follow. The black swirled around me; inside my world was spinning. I thought I might faint, but the fever was a force that would not allow me to fall. I looked down and saw light barely seeping from the hallway. Every movement discerned, I made my way to the door...found the handle.
The dim hall was a blazing corridor. I braced myself in the doorway against the fever's pull. One direction beckoned and I followed, walking in a dream, the air around me thick, hot, and suffocating. My body was heavy ...flesh, bone, and desire barely covered, and where it came to rest I slumped, my cheek pressed against the cool wall outside ...inside I could hear the water holding her in its slick embrace.
The space in the hallway had collapsed to a tiny box, and I waited there, trapped. My eyes closed, I listened. Except for the sound of my own breathing, the apartment was utterly silent, and then the splash and drip of water as she rose from her bath. I wondered if she could sense my restless presence.
The door opened, and light flooded the far end of the hallway. She emerged as a silhouette against the new glare. Slowly she turned to face me, and as my eyes adjusted I could make out her expression. I saw no surprise there. I managed to free myself from the gravity of the wall and stood captured in the sphere of her strong magnetic pull. We gazed at each other for long moments without moving. She was wrapped in a white bath towel, modesty protected. I was dressed for bed, sweatpants no shirt. Such small barriers to be overcome.
In two steps I closed the gap between us, looming over her much smaller frame. Still seemingly frozen to the spot, she looked up, her face a mask, but through the eyes her emotions declared. I felt desire like a wave run through me, and hand bidden, brushed my palm softly over her delicate cheek, spoke to her without words. Her response, mute expectation, a soft hand on my shoulder, sliding down my arm.
Her fingertips were as whispers, tracing the contours of my chest and abdomen, tiny flickers left in their wake, and then without restraint, dipped under and below. Breath caught in my throat, I gasped at the sensation of her unexpected directness. The tips of her fingers were electric, an opposing polarity attracting. They inquired as would a person without sight, the effort to learn the form of an object only by touch, but as the shape changes in hand to be explored anew. Her wonder was as a child's fascination, a sweet shameless intimacy. Consumed by the fever, I exhaled, whispered her name, my one and only desire.
I led her to the dark of my small room where the black would hold us in its silk cocoon. Our fever, trapped, constrained to burn. My sweats were suddenly at my feet; she had quickly and deftly whisked them down, and when I pulled her close, she was naked in my arms, flesh pressed to flesh. Our mouths, hungry, searched and found...the wet desperate meeting fuelling but failing to quench...we fell onto the narrow bed. Driven by fever, my body sought hers, and hers mine, in constant motion, a combustible friction.
I felt wet kisses down my stomach and a tightness where she had grasped at the base of what stood as the kernel of my material desire. Her kisses continued, but where her lips brushed my flesh was left an unbearable taunting. I breathed her name ...a total devotion, an abject plea. Her tongue became her second weapon, doling out liquid fire, punishing my lust with her patience. I strained under her tight grip with an aggression, a white-hot call to address her wickedness over my knee, scalding her bare bottom with my hard open palm until she screamed for mercy. I rose up; she pushed me down.
In the dark she was but a vague shadow shape. I reached to place my hands on the top of her head and tried to guide her to where I needed her to go. She took my direction and I felt the warm wet enclosure of her mouth, but it was only to show me what I yearned for. Somewhere beneath my agony, I wondered if she was capable of appreciating the torment she could inflict. I believed she could ...and I was ensnared in her web ...to be devoured at her leisure ...time a slave to her agenda.
There's only so much a man can take. I was prepared to attempt the relief of my own suffering when she must have sensed I was at the very edge of sanity. She knew the where and the how, and I was hers ...completely and totally hers. There was only one place in the universe to go, and she bore me there as a helpless passenger. The black fabric of the room ripped apart at its seams. The colors were back, radiant and pure, and I was carried away to an all-consuming, blinding ecstasy.
Jenna showed as much patience for my recovery as for my affliction. She lay partially on top of me, her breath warm on my skin, small kisses reminding me that she was naked and ready for my attentions. When I was able to move, I pushed her onto her back. My mouth to hers, I told her she was mine now, not to move unless I moved her. I was surprised that my own lust for her had returned so quickly after she had drained me so completely.
I had an urge to turn a light on and then devour every inch of her with my eyes. I reconsidered. There would be a time for that. As she had explored me, I would know her by touch alone, and would take as much time as needed to make an exhaustive study. To my fingers her face was that of a heavenly angel, a wondrous complexity that drew kisses to each spot I touched ...her neck a sensitive column ...her shoulders, hard delicate bone mantled soft and smooth. I read the texture of her skin as if it were the meaning of life written in Braille. Moving down her body I also tasted where I felt, lingering when I heard a modulation of breath, her moans of pleasure, both grateful and urgent. I made the delicious journey over supple hills, through silken valleys, revelled at the discovery of each tumid bump, every secret crevice.
I heard my name on her breath, but I was practicing the lesson she had just imparted -- the greater the desire, the higher the pleasure when that desire is fulfilled. In the envelope of black, I encountered no difficulty in finding the wet core of her passion, and with each stroke, each kiss, each lick, she was drawn to me as if on a string. I was merciless, and when her hand became too impatient, I took it firmly in mine and answered her desperation with a persistence to further provoke her fire. Only when I had drawn a plea from the bottom of her heart, did I draw from her the milk of her desire. I drank of her deep and long, my thirst not slaked until her body used had nothing left to give.
*****
The black slowly gave way to the thin light of dawn. The narrow bed was fit for one ...and we were one, Jenna asleep in my arms. The few hours the night had left us had been spent as whispers in the dark and the making of love. The fuel of our passion could sustain us no longer.
As I began to drift, I held fast to that night. I recognized a feeling, both heavy and light. I stood on the precipice of something awesome ...unsteady, but certain I could fly. Where I soared with her, nothing would ever be the same again. No matter where the currents might take us, or should rip us asunder, the girl in my arms would always be an integral part of me ...her joy, my joy ...her pain, my pain.
Jenna filled the space inside, now a fertile garden, a solid ground where love sweet would grow. I closed my eyes, held her close, and allowed the currents of dream to take me.