"How's that feel?" he asked.
"Nice."
"Yes, it is nice." he said, and then surprised me by kissing me there.
"You're so soft," he said. "so special."
I smiled. Any minute he was going to say "Sailor Girl." I was sure of it. It was coming.
His hands moved down my legs to my feet. He massaged them gently, and I moaned with pleasure.
"Like that? I learned that in the Orient," he said. Yes, I thought, he's been all over the world.
"There are places an your feet that affect places on the rest of your body. Nice. huh?"
"Yes," I said.
His fingers traveled back up between my legs and surprised me by touching me in my most private place. I jumped, and he said, "Easy, relax. You've got to learn to relax, otherwise you'll never enjoy. There now. easy." I felt myself soften, and then an electric sensation of pleasure shot up through the small of my stomach to my breasts.
His lips were moving over me again. Gently but firmly he turned me on my side and cupped my breast, his thumb sliding over my nipple. His mouth was soon there, and his tongue. and I moaned again and let myself fall backward.
Feeling him naked and then his firm sex was the most shocking thing. This wasn't Daddy. I wasn't Sailor Girl, I struggled to open my eves, but the lids seemed to be sewn shut. Just as I started to protest, his mouth was over mine, his tongue pressing onto mine.
"You're as sweet as I imagined you would be," he said. His hands went under my thighs, and he lifted me to fit himself into me. I gasped and shook my head and started to claw my way up out of the pit of darkness, but he was pressing harder and harder, driving me back. I started to sob. At least I thought I did. I heard what sounded like sobs, but no tears emerged from my heavy eyelids, Soon I was as helpless as a rag doll, moving as he wanted me to move, my meager resistance dwindling. I moaned and then heard him cry out with pleasure as he spurted inside me. Far a long moment we were frozen together, paused as if on some video picture. Then he retreated, his heavy breathing at my ear because he was right beside me.
I sank into my bed and waited for the storm of mixed emotions and feelings to subside. That took me down deeper and deeper into the dark well again. and I had no idea how much time went by.
Before morning I felt him at me again, his lips everywhere on my body, gently nibbling around my breasts and then moving to the small of my stomach. My arms were like lead, my fingers stiff. He was in me a second time, turning and twisting me to make himself comfortable. I felt the heat, the wetness, and then the retreat.
I don't think I uttered a sound. When the morning light finally woke me I was alone. For a long moment I lay there wondering if I had dreamed it all. I quickly realized I hadn't. Panic kept me from moving a muscle. It was as if I expected to see him standing there beside the bed any moment,
Instead I heard the muffled sounds of the servants. I heard a phone ring. I heard footsteps, and then all was relatively quiet. I finally rose and went into the shower. I made it as hot as I could stand and washed myself so vigorously my skin was as red as it would be had I developed an allergic rash. I found something different to wear, and then I went out and down to the dining room. I could hear Mommy on the telephone in the den and paused to look in at her. She glanced at me.
"Oh. Grace, you're up. I have to take a ride to Boca Raton to meet a new caterer. Would you like to come along`' Kirby hates these things, and he's off somewhere anyway."
I just stared at her for a moment and then walked on to the dining room.
"Grace!" she screamed. She came after me and pulled at my arm to turn me around. 'What's wrong with you? You look at me, but you don't reply?"
'Breakfast." I said. "It's time for breakfast."
"Time for breakfast? It's nearly two in the afternoon. You mean to say you didn't have breakfast yet? You've slept in this long? Even I get up before this for breakfast. Grace."
She continued to stare at me. "Aren't you feeling well?"
I smiled at her. That's an interesting question, I thought. Am I feeling well? I'll think about it.
I continued to the dining room and took my usual seat at the table. Mommy came to the door and looked in at me for a moment, and then she shook her head and returned to her office and her phone.
The maid came and began to bring me my breakfast. I ate quietly, slowly, desperately trying to remember something. There was something I had to remember. What was it? Something that had happened. I told myself. Think, think.
Nothing came to mind, and finally I gave up and went outs
ide. I lay on a lounge and looked up at the sky, watching the slow movement of the clouds from south to north. Occasionally a sea gull flew into my line of vision. I followed its glide until it disappeared, and then I gazed out at the ocean and watched the ships slide along the horizon. They looked so tiny and toylike. Maybe this was a makebelieve world after all. Maybe I'm asleep now when I think I'm awake.
An old Japanese poem came to my mind: "A man sat under a tree and dreamed he was a butterfly. Or was it a butterfly who dreamed he was a man?"
When are we really awake? When are we really asleep?