hat would it feel like if ... What would you do if ...
Ann Joans takes you on a journey where there are limitless possibilities...
Where reality is suspended ...
Where you are free to enjoy pleasures ...
And the only limitation is your imaginaton!
"House Doctor"
by
Ann Joans
heir fight started after Cort opened the merlot.
"So tell me again why you went to dinner with that handyman last night. We were supposed to connect." Cort guzzled a full glass.
"I told you before. You didn't answer your cell all day. Again. You didn't call. Again. I was pissed. By the way, I don't need your permission to eat." Emily twisted her sable hair into a knot and let it drop loose again. "Wouldn't you be pissed if I was over two hours late without a word? Craig ..."
Cort cut her off. "I told you I worked a double. We had a full house even before the multi-car accident took over the ER." Cort poured another.
"Aw, come on, Cort. How long would it take to leave me a two-second message? You were punishing me."
Emily cleared her lit books from the table. She piled them haphazardly with the rest of her master's thesis papers on the cluttered roll-top desk beside the bay window.
"Well, what do you expect when I find out you went on a date with the handyman?" Cort wasn't a drinker, but tossed it back, short blond hair flipping. "The handyman, for chrissake!"
"It wasn't a date." Emily stomped to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and pulled out the salad. "You were supposed to be off by 4:00. I waited for you till 6:30." She tore the plastic wrap off the salad bowl and crumbled it. She pitched the wad at Cort and continued, "Craig was finishing up for the day. If you must know, my stomach growled and he heard it."
Cort snatched the wrap out of the air and glared at Emily as she set the bowl on the table. Emily attacked the salad with salt and pepper, then tossed the leafy greens. "I just went to grab a bite."
"Yeah, well I think he was the one doin' the grabbin'." Cort dropped the crinkled ball next to the salad bowl and set the goblet down hard on the table.
"Stop it. It wasn't like that." Emily took a sip of her wine.
"Then why was he all smiles when I got here? Cort grabbed the bottle.
"See? There you go again, making assumptions." Emily set her goblet down lightly next to her empty plate. "Why are you being like this?"
"You're the one who moved out, Sweetheart." Cort's green eyes burned into Emily. "You're the one who needed space." Cort poured again, staring as the burgundy liquid swirled into the crystal glass. "You're the one who started this mess."
"He was hungry, I was hungry. We ate together. That's it." Emily tried to keep her voice steady. She loved Cort, but could not let this issue drop.
"That's it." Cort stood abruptly, knocking over the full goblet, sending a dark red river down the cream tablecloth. "I'm out of here."
Emily jumped up, pointing at the spreading stain. "Look what you did! This is ... was Uncle Benson's tablecl- ..." Her eyes brimmed. "Cloth," she finished in a whisper.
ort's athletic frame leaned over the table, knuckles pressed into the branching rivulets. "Emily, I loved him too, you know. Just because I'm a first year intern doesn't mean I know how to handle grief any better than you do."
"What do you know about my grief?" The oven timer broke in, a frantic staccato. Emily dashed into the kitchen. She heard Cort's fist come down on the table behind her. She couldn't hold back the salty stream any longer. It spilled down her cheeks. Cort didn't deal well with crying, so she ducked low to open the oven, hoping Cort wouldn't see. Her stomach grumbled at the homey aroma, but sudden nausea struck her.
Her unsteady hand lost its grip on the hot pan as she reached to set the bubbling lasagna on the stovetop. "No!" It slid sideways, crashing to the linoleum below. Steaming cheese and spinach filling sloshed from between the broad noodles. Rich tomato gravy splashed toward Emily's bare feet.
Cort must have seen from the dining room. Faster than seemed possible, Emily felt an arm encircling her waist, and Cort swung Emily away from the scalding mess. Wide eyed, they stared as the scorching sauce pooled where Emily's foot had been seconds earlier.
"Shit!" Cort's alarm reverberated in the small kitchen. "That would have been third degree burns, Emily! You almost ... aw, Emily. I miss you ... us."
"Me too." Emily pressed her face into Cort's soft blue shirt and felt feather-light strokes smoothing her hair.
"What's happening to us? We were so in tune. So hot for each other..." Cort trailed off, lifting Emily's chin. Speaking gently, Cort looked directly into her eyes. "You've been so remote since Uncle Benson died. I could maybe take crying better than your absence ... believe me, you aren't the only one missing him."
Emily started to answer but Cort put a finger to her lips.
"It hurt when you moved out of my place, but I thought it would help you, living here with your uncle's stuff. You're drifting away from me, Emily. You hardly ever call, and you never come over."
Emily nodded, tears dripping. She looked up; it surprised her to see Cort's eyes misting. "But you haven't invited me to join you here." Cort's voice choked. "That did me in."
"Did you in? What are you thinking? That I broke up with you when I moved out?"
"What was I supposed to think?"
"I told you I just needed to be here in Uncle Benson's house." Emily looked around the dining room. Her gaze settled on her uncle's framed face smiling at them from the living room mantle.
"That's maybe what you say. But your actions speak louder." Cort's arm swept in a broad arc. "This house is your lover now. All your attention and energy are here. I'm not. I'm working my tail off. I thought I could wait this out. Besides, I know it's stupid to be jealous of a house." Cort walked over to the roll-top and absently straightened the stack of books Emily had stashed there earlier, then spoke in a weary voice, "I'm dog tired all the time. Barely close my eyes, and I'm back at the hospital. Most of the time I sleep right there, in the interns' lounge. There's no reason to even try going home anymore. You aren't there."
"But I'm here. And you have a key." Emily ran a finger along Cort's clenched jaw.
"It's this Greg thing..."
"Craig. And there is no thing."
"Whatever. He shows up, and now every time I drive by here that frickin' ‘House Doctor' truck is parked at your curb. Why would I stop if he's here with you?"
"He's not with me. I'm usually in class. He's working on the house. Alone. Besides, Craig is getting the code stuff done." She fiddled with the edge of Cort's khaki shorts.
"Yeah, well I think he's workin' on you," Cort's words came softer, "and you don't even know it."
Emily shook her head. "Forget about Craig. You know I love you. Stand in my shoes a minute. Uncle Benson left a hole." Emily's hand lighted over her heart. "But I did not break up with you."
"Let me get this straight. You didn't break us up?"
"Nooooo. Maybe we're a bit spindled and mutilated, but not broken."
hey moved toward one another and stood palm to palm. Cort kissed the top of her head and let out a shaky sigh. Emily placed her hands on Cort's belt and moved in closer. She slid a bare foot on top of Cort's running shoe.
"Shall we continue this upstairs?" Cort reached for Emily's hand, and Emily allowed herself to be led to the stairs. In tow, Emily's eager gaze took in the rhythm of Cort's muscular legs flexing with each step. She couldn't help skimming her fingers lightly across the firm derrière moving purposefully in front of her.
When they reached her bedroom, Emily fiddled with the new dimmer switch and smiled when the light settled down to a soft glow. "Hmmmm. How's that?"
"Nice." Cort glanced around and saw it. "I see that silly picture of us is on your nightstand." Cort tapped the glass and smiled at the tanned couple beaming at each other behind it. "That sure was a fun trip, wasn't it? Remember how cold you were after we swamped the canoe?"
"Yeah, but it didn't take you long to warm me up. How did that go again?" Emily nuzzled Cort's shoulder.
She felt her heart beat faster as she breathed in the familiar scents of Cort's hair and skin. When their lips met, the taste awakened a longing in her. Breathing faster, Emily pushed Cort down on the bed. Cort didn't resist, rolling easily with her.
"Emily, we belong together. I'm not pushing you about commitment. Not yet. But let's not throw away what we do have, ok?"
Emily's thoughts swirled and she could not concentrate enough to answer. As passion rose in her, she couldn't unravel the confusion within. Cort's hands were everywhere. There is nothing confusing about the feel of lips on lips, Emily thought. Nothing confusing about warmth and wetness spreading. She struggled between letting go and trying to make a conscious decision about Cort, the future, or anything else.
As their lovemaking took over, Emily surrendered to overwhelming need. She gave. She took. Her stomach growled ... loud.
They both froze. Neither could stop the laughter.
Cort spoke with mock theatrics, "Mine own Shakespearina, allow me to slake your hunger. It is I you crave."
Joining in, Emily feigned affront, and mimicked Cort's exaggerated flourish, "Oh, would that I could permit such congress. But I must not succumb to these temptations of weak flesh!"
Cort locked eyes with Emily, all teasing gone, stroking, probing, fingers sliding. Emily's back arched. She felt on fire and Cort soaked up her heat. An attentive lover, Cort never failed to remember which places to caress, satisfying her first. This was passion as raw as Emily had ever experienced. Urgency prodded her to close every gap in the spaces between them. Cort was everywhere at once. Emily responded, reciprocated, and gave again. It shocked her at how fast they sated one another and lay gasping side by side.
mily brushed a few stray hairs out of her face, "What was that?"
Cort propped up on one elbow, sweat dripping. "That was ... amazing. I'm tingling. You?"
"I'm spent. And famished ..."
Emily got up first and smiled down at Cort. "Come on, Courtney, my dear. Let's eat." The two women took the stairs quickly, but stopped at the kitchen doorway.
Wrecked lasagna sat congealed and unappealing on the floor. Emily shrugged, "Guess there's cleaning up to do first."
Cort grabbed a spatula and stooped to scrape the mess back into the pan. Emily knelt beside her with a roll of paper towels. They both looked up when they heard a truck stop at the curb.
© 2008 AnnJoans.com
