One Safe Place (23 page)

Suzy Q left to get a few hours' sleep, and then to track down Evita.

Tylowe walked through the door of his home and disarmed himself, securing the guns in a safe place.

He walked down into the sunken living room. He stared out at the lake and the last of the daylight. Anchored in the middle of the lake, two boats bobbed in the water from the slow waves caused by a gentle breeze. Tylowe felt like his feet were standing on solid ground for the first time in a long time.

From behind, he felt an aggressive tug and hug on his back. He heard her walking his way, but didn't turn. He felt Meeah, clamping onto his back, as if he were air to breathe for survival.

She jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. Tylowe put his hands on her smooth calves and squeezed the beauty in his hands. He knew wherever he touched her, he could find loveliness. Her heart was on his back, and he thought he could feel her heart beating; for sure he felt her breathing on his neck. Maybe he thought he could read her mind, because he sure wanted her to know his thoughts. He wanted her to understand that the world might be breaking apart, but no matter what, he knew in his heart and mind, she was his one safe place to lay his burdens down.

She relaxed her body as if she was a child riding on her father's back and had fallen asleep. With her arms draped over his shoulders, he walked them toward their bedroom and straight into their bathroom.

He laughed to himself. She was no longer the feather-weight woman he had married, but she felt more adorable with her filled-out body close to his. He backed up to the bathroom sink vanity and let Meeah sit. Facing her, he laid his head on her shoulder, and she cupped the back of his head. She was trembling, and his heart raced. He was happy to be home and close to his wife.

The bedroom stereo played in low volume, but the two of them heard Robert Glasper and Lalah Hathaway doing an abstract version of Sade's “Cherish the Day.”

Tylowe lifted his head to see that his wife was in her bra and panties only. A part of him wanted to be near her so badly that he almost became blind to what she had on at the moment. She could have been cloaked in diamond and pearls, or as she was now in her flawless skin—the color of a golden fall leaf, soft as silk, and as rich tasting as cocoa.

Meeah reached and unbuttoned his shirt. Her natural nails made trail lines over his heart, as if she were writing her name in multiple languages. She stroked his chest and up and down his stomach.

He no longer had the six-pack muscles of his youth, but he was still solid. She held his sides and leaned in and whispered. “I need a little to hang on to; I love it. It lets me know I'm feeding you…at least sometimes.” Then she slid her tongue into his ear and let her tongue slow dance to Will Downing and Rachelle Ferrell singing “Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This.”

They rolled their foreheads together and came face to face; they smiled and began gently biting each other's lips. Their noses pulled in each other's breath, and their mouths were getting hot from tangling.

Tylowe stood up straight, and Meeah ran her fingers down to his belt buckle and unbuckled it slowly, pulling the belt to the point
that it hung and swung. From there he unbuttoned his own jeans and stepped out of his shoes. With a little extra effort, he had to facilitate his jeans over his ass. Meeah smiled and bit her wet bottom lip. Quickly, she reached and grabbed his belt and slapped his ass hard with it. He didn't flinch as she had always done that, but he took notice that he hadn't realized that she still love tapped him. Tylowe stepped out of his jeans and pulled off his socks.

He was wearing the cream-colored sports thong she'd bought for him. She'd purchased twenty different colors for him to wear. She loved seeing her man walking around in a manly styled thong with his long, bronze legs. The pouch of the thong was silky smooth, and Tylowe filled the pouch well. The wide waistband had one-inch straps attached, coming from under his ball sac, curving over his ass, and connecting to the waistband. Meeah often requested he wear them and nothing else while walking around the house. At that moment, he thought about it.

Meeah twirled her finger, signaling she wanted him to turn around and put his back to her. She lightly dragged her natural nails down his back; she knew that he loved the feel of her scratching his back. To him it was like an intoxicating drink. He relaxed and laid his head back, and she kissed his baldness. The tip of her tongue traveled along his bald head, as if she were writing Egyptian hieroglyphics.

He slowly pulled away and walked over to the shower sliding doors. He turned on the shower that was larger than some houses' full bathrooms. The marbled walls had seating that allowed two to lie down comfortably. The eight showerheads pulsated with a hot mist pouring down on their completely prone bodies. The lakefront home had a specially designed hot water system that provided as much hot water as anyone could use for hours.

Tylowe walked back over to Meeah and forced his hands under her ass. He picked her up, and put her down standing on the floor. She had already removed her bra. Her breasts were average in size, but huge with feelings from the simplest touch. Her nipples were gumdrop thick and perfect for his lips to suck on as he stooped down, and he did so. He made as if he was pulling her nipples with a sucking motion to make them longer. She loved that feeling, and he kept that up for some time as the bathroom filled with steam. Under her panties, a sweltering, sticky humidity needed to escape.

Tylowe stood as erect as his dick, which had pushed out of the side of his thong and exposed his protruding hard-on. He moved in behind Meeah and let her feel his hardness rubbing on her ass as he walked her forward into the shower. His arms held her tight as he bit and sucked lightly along her neckline and collarbone. He kept walking her in to the hot, spraying water that covered their bodies from eight different directions.

He exited the shower temporarily, letting Meeah feel the wetness and warmness, but he came back shortly with the music playing louder, and with bottled waters in hand.

They had only said a few words. At the moment, words would only get in the way of what was coming from their souls. In their time and space, silence was like vows of forever. Nothing could make being home simply better, and together they made nothing else matter. They were loving in the now; they were loving for tomorrow; they were loving for the times over the years they had not loved, or had forgotten. It was beyond yearning, or wanting to feel a bodily connection; it was beyond forgiveness—of what didn't matter. It was as if God had sent them to be with each other.

“Hurricane” by Eric Benét ended, and faded in to Earth Wind
and Fire's “Would You Mind.” Meeah had removed her panties, and he had removed his thong. He got down on his knees and kissed over her belly as did the raining shower. She ran her hands over his head, as if it was his dick head, stroking the moisture. His mind was orgasmic from her touch.

He cupped her ass and pulled the roundness of her belly to his lips, and he licked her navel. He let his tongue catch the raining shower at the point of her navel and swallowed. He loved the roundness of her belly. He told her often in the past, “Your belly is perfect; you may not have birthed both our children, but nevertheless your belly brought beauty in to this world, so I adore the sight of it. Each time he told her this, tears rolled down her cheeks. Still down on his knees, Tylowe's tongue danced up and down her leg. She looked down to see the water misting off his back and funneling down the crease of his ass. He got down on all fours, and his head parted her thighs. He placed his nose on her pussy lip and sniffed her scent. His dick thickened as it hung down. Looking up in to her face, the shower blurred his vision. He tapped her on her ass, and she knew to sit down.

On his knees like a dog, he moved back between her thighs. The shower was full of steam; heat surrounded them, and it was coming from them.

Meeah spread her legs, placing her feet up on the platform she sat on. The water felt like walking in warm rain, naked, along a warm beach at night. The bathroom lights had dimmed when they stayed in one place. The only lights were in the floor of the shower, illuminating their bodies in reds, greens, and white. With her legs apart, Tylowe licked her pussy in long, slow-dragging laps and took in her sweet wetness. She was slippery and sweet; it had him eating her like tomorrow wouldn't come so he had to take all
she had now. He licked her up and down, near and far. His tongue started in between her two openings. She was ready for his tongue to slide in her ass, but he opened his mouth wide covering her whole pussy. The showerhead sprayed shots of hot water right onto her clit, and over his nose. She groaned each time the spray hit her clit. She angled her body to increase the direct contact. Meeah almost squirted herself as she was losing control. She grabbed her breasts hard, as if she was trying to save them. She squeezed her nipples as sounds wheezed from deep within her lungs. Her feet stirred, and toes curled. She slapped the back of his head almost too hard. Her body was out of control as she fought back from cumming. He curled his tongue, and she placed her hands behind his head and helped his tongue to make deep thrusts, inside and out. She kept pushing his head into her pussy. As she called his name aloud, he honed in on her clit. She'd felt the shower raining down hot water a moment before on her clit; now his tongue was bathing her, circling while varying the pressure.

Unconsciously, she slapped his back again. He slipped two fingers inside her pulsating pussy, and massaged the inner, upper ridge inside her. His tongue flicked on her clit, and he never missed a beat. He stayed at it knowing it was just a matter of time before her body would go in to an upheaval of motions. She would be loud, so damn loud, and it started. Tylowe fought to keep his tongue in place, and she damn near pushed him away. Meeah screamed, and he fought to keep licking her. Finally, she was able to persuade him to pull away with a smile on his face.

He knew she had not had an orgasm like that in a long while. He wondered if he had not been spiritually loving her as she deserved as his woman. Maybe he had been having sex with her all too often, and not making love to her. Both had fallen in to the
idea that sex was good and plentiful, and sometimes that's all you had. But making love—it had to happen more often.

He joined her as she lay on the sitting area. It was enough room to allow them to lie next to each other and spoon while feeling the warm rain. The eight showerheads had changed five times, once every five minutes. The steam and hot water misted over their bodies; it felt like a water blanket of warmth.

Years ago, they used to make the annual hike down behind the Snoqualmie Falls. The 268-foot-high waterfall in the Cascade Mountains was forty minutes from Seattle, and then a half-mile hike. Meeah and Tylowe had been able to pull off having quickie sex behind the hard, cold mist of the falls. It was dangerous, romantic, exciting, and cold. Now, behind the eight-foot-long glass shower windows and door, love rained down. The mist was hot and pulsating softly on their bodies.

Meeah sat up and then eased her body to a standing position. Tylowe sat up and looked up at her. Movement in the huge shower triggered the lights to brighten a bit. As he looked up at his wife, he saw himself; she was him, and he was her. Maybe their growth as one had slowed, but they wanted more love to keep growing to wherever it could go, as long as it went—far, wide, and high.

Meeah leaned down and kissed his forehead, then his nose, and then rushed her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him hard and wet as the hot shower poured over their faces. The spray pattern changed to quick bursts of spray, almost too hard, from all of the showerheads.

Their mouths opened wide and their tongues intertwined, seemingly trying to take each other's last breath.

Her hand reached down and cupped his balls as he spread his legs. She loved feeling his balls stirring in her hand and his shaft
thicken and harden. She leaned down and put her lips over the underside of his dick, then licked and sucked on the thick vein. Her mouth went up and down, sucking hard on the shaft of his dick. He grunted as he pulled her head tighter to him. She kept sucking the shaft as she moved one hand up to his wide, flawlessly shaped mushroom dick head. Meeah squeezed and stroked his dick head as if she was trying to make it squirt to the ceiling. She relaxed her grip.

“I want you inside me.”

She anticipated the feel of his dick, knowing it plunged deep, and how the wide ridge of the head stroked her G-spot going in and coming out. He leaned back, and she closed his legs a bit and straddled him.

With her hands on his shoulder for support, she rotated her hips, making her pussy lips kiss his hardness. Hot water poured off her breasts and onto his face, and he drank the water for her to see. She centered her opening, and slowly pushed down on his dick, grunting loudly as he glided in an inch. She stopped her descending human waterfall and held still. Her mouth opened wide, and her eyes rolled up for a moment, but then she stared down in to his eyes. Tylowe rushed his tongue into her mouth, and kissed hard as if he wanted his tongue to go down her throat. She felt it through her thick pussy lips. Her wetness, like slippery virgin olive oil, increased and impelled her to receive his hardness and width with ease. She wrapped her arms around his head, almost smothering him. He heard and felt her high-pitched release of air as she eased down on his longing hardness. She rested her ass on his thighs to adjust.

With her arms around his head, she pulled him to her breasts. Meeah spoke loud and clear, “I love you, Tylowe. There is nothing I want more than to be with you. You treat me like a queen, but if
you ever wanted me to be your slave, I wouldn't hesitate for one moment. I know you would still treat me like a queen.”

Tylowe squeezed her body with his strong arm as the shower-head changed pattern to a sweltering rainforest mist. As Meeah lifted her head and leaned back, Tylowe could not tell if tears were rolling down her face or if the shower was fooling his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. He tasted salty tears.