The Glowing

Chapter 7

Despite Greenway’s interruption of my day, I made good time getting home, and had several hours left before Morgan would be over. I was able to simmer down on the drive home, and even realized I had probably over-reacted to Greenway's questioning. By the time I got home, I felt much better, and eager to get everything ready for tonight. I shed the pink running outfit and pulled on a cream-colored camisole and some black silk boxers. I wanted to be comfortable as I cooked, but still feel sexy – I hoped it would transfer over to when Morgan arrived. I brought my CD player out to the kitchen along with a Radiohead CD and turned to volume up. I started dancing immediately, letting my previous frustrations with Greenway melt away with the music. And, since I was alone, I even sang at the top of my lungs, stretching my voice to match Thom Yorke’s thin falsetto.

I unloaded the groceries, rather unhurriedly, and spread everything for the lasagna out on the counters, while putting the salad items and sparkling water in the fridge. I made sure to take as much time as possible layering the lasagna, piling on the cheeses. By golly, if you’re going to make lasagna do it right, sparing no fat or calories. When the lasagna was piled high, almost to overflowing the pan, I still had a couple hours before Morgan would be here. The lasagna would take roughly forty-five minutes to bake, and I would toss the salad right before we ate. I popped the lasagna in the fridge and hurried off to get ready.

I pulled off my camisole and silk boxers and changed my bra and undies. I decided on a matching pair in sky blue lace. Next, I stood in front of my closet with my hands on my hips and puckered my lips as I perused the contents before me. Suddenly it seemed like I had nothing to wear. I knew that was ridiculous, I had plenty of clothes, and on top of that Morgan had only seen me in one measly outfit. I started rifling through everything, starting with my tops. I didn’t want to be too dressed up, but on the other hand going off what Morgan had been wearing the previous day I didn’t want to be too dressed down either. I had a plethora of black in my wardrobe, but I had been wearing my black stretch tee when we met. I finally decided on a rose-colored wrap top and black dress pants. The pants were slightly flared from the knees down, and I put on some low sandal pumps in gold; my legs looked great if I’m being honest.

Now, I have a few vices, chocolate and ice-cream are among them, but the biggest one is make-up. I keep it all in a separate rubber container, and there is plenty of it. If I had any true artistic talent, I may have tried to do something with make-up as a career, but the only make-up I manage to do well is my own. I decided on muted colors like taupe and dusty rose for the eyes and cheeks, and dark charcoal gray to line my eyes, and put on several coats of mascara. I finished the look off with a mauve lip gloss. I managed to look polished, not made-up; exactly what I wanted.

I threw the lasagna in the oven and went to skim through my music. I thought some classical and light jazz music would be best. I pulled out three sampler CDs, two classical and one called “Down Time Jazz”. I was struck, as I had been on other occasions, by the variety in my music collection. The diversity came from over twelve years of cello playing. I had a great love for classical music, and at least an appreciation for most other genres, and my music collection showed that. I put the three CDs in the CD changer and started setting the table. I got out my cobalt blue dining set, and my mom’s good silverware. I even went to the linen closet to retrieve the pressed white linen napkins. A couple of goblets set the whole look off, and I took a minute to appreciate the sight before mixing the salad and dressing.

The timer went off for the lasagna, and I pulled it out, then topped it off with more cheese and put it back in the oven for another ten minutes to melt the cheese. That was a big trick my mom taught me; if you put the topping cheese on when you first put it in to bake, it will get brown and crusty. You need to wait till it has ten to fifteen minutes left and then add the remaining cheese; that way it’s perfectly gooey and ready to serve.

I was just putting the salad and chilled water on the table when a knock on the front door sent butterflies racing through my stomach. I gulped, and then squared my shoulders and marched over to answer the door. Morgan stood in the doorway, beautiful, and hair gleaming gold in the early evening sunlight. He wore a dark gray long-sleeved button-down shirt, and dark denim jeans – again looking as if they just came off a designer rack. He was wearing his polished black square toed shoes again; he looked like a model for GQ from head to toe.

“Wow, it’s great to see you again,” he said smiling.

I grinned back and said, “You too. I hope you like Italian food because there’s going to be plenty of it.” I stepped back to let him in, looking around me nervously. I had spent two hours cleaning, and I knew every surface in my house was spic and span; still I hoped I had cleaned enough.

“Holy cow, Ivy, it smells great. I’m looking forward to eating whatever it is!”

“Thanks, I made lasagna and spinach salad. They’re kind of family recipes, so I hope you like it.”

We headed into the kitchen, and I went over to pull the lasagna from the oven. The top cheese was golden and flawlessly gooey; perfect. I set the pan on a pot coaster on the table, and Morgan let out an appreciative little moan.

“Wow, I guess I wasn’t expecting food this amazing looking Ivy. It seems like most of the women I meet can’t cook worth a lick.” His eyes were sparkling mischievously as he said this, and despite myself I laughed.

“Well, I suppose I can cook a few things anyway, but his is pretty much as high class as my cooking gets.”

I motioned for him to take the seat at the head of the table, and I poured him some water.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” he said, “You remembered our drink.”

“You betcha, I wouldn’t forget something as important as that.”

I started cutting the lasagna and let Morgan dish out his own salad. I made sure to give him an extra-large slice. My first instinct was to only cut a small piece for myself, but on reconsidering I thought: aw screw that, he already knows I like to eat and can eat plenty. I gave myself a slice only marginally smaller than Morgan’s, and he nodded approvingly. I got the impression that Morgan liked his girls to eat and eat well. I took a bite of salad, and Morgan cut a small bite of lasagna and rolled his eyes theatrically.

“Oh, Ivy, this is the best lasagna I think I’ve ever had!” he took another bite and shook his head. “No doubt about it, this is the best. What’s that taste? It’s almost sweet, but not quite.”

“I put a little ground nutmeg in the soft cheese mixture. It really helps bring out the other flavors, especially with the savory taste of the sauce.”

“It's fabulous. I’m glad you wanted to still meet up with me tonight. I was really expecting you to call me back and cancel. In fact, I put off leaving my house till the last possible second to give you a chance to back out.”

“Why would you think I would back out?”

“I thought you might decide to go down to the hospital to be with Mike. Did you find out how he was doing?”

“Yeah, he’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning, as long as he’s stable enough.”

“Are you going to go down for it? Do you want me to go with you?”

I cut off several pieces of lasagna and ate slowly as I considered. “No, I don’t think so. His son is going to be there, and I need to start my new job anyway. I mean, it sounded like he was going to be in pretty bad shape for a while; he still hadn’t regained consciousness when I called.”

Morgan looked at me with furrowed brow and put down his fork. “Are you sure that’s the best idea? I just wouldn’t want you to end up feeling bad that you didn’t go for his surgery. It was a traumatic experience coming across him like that; you may want to get a little bit of closure on the experience by being there through his surgery. Then you might have some sort of peace of mind at least when you know how he came out of it.”

“I’ll call to see how the surgery went. I just don’t see any reason for me to spend my day in the hospital when Mike won’t even be aware of it.”

I wasn’t sure why Morgan was so concerned about me being at the hospital, but what he didn’t know – what I wouldn’t tell him – is that I would find any reason not to be there. I really was worried about Mike, but I knew that his still being unconscious was just a bonus for me, because I wouldn’t be there even if he was awake. When I thought of the hospital, I thought of the six weeks I had spent every spare moment with my dying father. I saw the non-descript colored walls and stiff linen, and I could still smell the sickly scent that always seemed to linger in the air. And the fact that I knew this about myself shamed me more than I could admit right now – especially to Morgan whom I had just met and wanted so badly to think well of me.

Morgan had resumed eating and was considering me over his semi-clasped hands, dangling his fork between them.

“Well, you know best what you will feel most comfortable with. I know we don’t know each other well yet, but I just want you to know that I care about you. I’m here if you want or need me.”

I could feel my face reddening again; this was getting to be an annoying physical development. I lowered my head and made a show of wiping some non-existent food from my face. I glanced back up at Morgan to find a gentle smile creeping over his own face.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Men aren’t supposed to be so quick to acknowledge their feelings, let alone say them out loud.”

“No, that’s okay,” I shook my head in reply, “I don’t mind it, it’s just really unexpected.”

“I just find that there’s something special about you Ivy. Something I haven’t found in a long time. I want to get to know you better. I want you to trust me. Are you okay with that?”

I nodded. “I’m more than okay with that. That sounds really good to me. And for some reason I do find myself trusting you. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can be safe with you. I just. . .” I stared at my hands, not sure how to complete my thought. Morgan had been open with me about how he felt, but I wasn’t sure I could or should admit what I was feeling.

“You just what, Ivy?”

I took a big breath and looked in his eyes. “I just don’t know why you seem so interested in me or my well-being.”

Morgan waited a moment before answering me, and when he did, he nearly whispered, “And what aren’t you sure about?”

I knew my face was nearly scarlet by this time, but I decided to forge ahead. “I’m really not used to men taking such an active interest in me, especially not such attractive men.” I lowered my eyes, unwilling to watch Morgan’s reaction to my admission.

“Ivy, you are an exceptionally attractive woman. If you really don’t know that about yourself, let me help you understand it. If what you say is true, and you really don’t have men beating your door down to get to know you, the only thing I can think of is that they must be extremely insecure about their own prowess. You are not only beautiful; you carry yourself with strength and confidence. You are entirely unassuming and there is nothing coy about you.”

“Please,” I interrupted, “you really don’t need to do this.”

“No, I think I do. In the few hours I spent with you yesterday I learned that you have a will of iron and a backbone to match. Do you know how rare someone like you is? With what you have been through these last few months, let alone last few days, most people would have fallen apart and would still be trying to pick up the pieces.” He watched me for a few moments, and then continued, “But not only have you remained strong and determined to keep going, you haven’t lost any heart. You seem to be able to keep your eyes fixed in front of you and remain steady regardless of what is thrown your way without losing compassion or empathy for others. You truly have me intrigued. I absolutely need to know you better.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. How could Morgan possibly have gotten that much from our short time together? We had spent a large chunk of the day together yesterday, and most of that time was spent in a high-tension situation. I had shared a bit about some of my recent heartache with him, but he seemed to read more between the lines than I would have thought. I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, but I believed he was sincere.

“Really, Ivy, you need to know this about yourself. You are remarkable, and I count it as extremely lucky that I saw you fall, so I could offer my services.” He grinned widely, and I followed suit.

“Well, I’m glad you got to see me fall flat on my face too, then.”

We spent the rest of dinner chatting and Morgan asking what my favorite things were. He rolled his eyes when I told him my favorite book was “Sense and Sensibility”. He'd never heard of my favorite musical artist, “Laura Veirs”, and he claimed he didn't have a favorite book or artist himself. When he asked what my favorite movie was, he burst out laughing.

“Seriously, your favorite movie is Labyrinth?” Morgan asked.

“I know, it's kind of a guilty pleasure, but I love it. I love singing along to all the songs. I had a crush on David Bowie the first time I watched it as a kid.”

Morgan laughed and said, “I wouldn't have you pegged as the type of girl who would dig David Bowie in tights. Or was it the glam-rock mullet he had that did you in?”

“I have no idea,” I said laughing, “but whenever I'm sick and just want to curl up on the couch and watch a movie, that's the one I watch.”

“I guess you were one strange kid then,” he said.

“I don't know, I don't think so. I just really loved that movie.”

Morgan had three helpings of lasagna, which made me feel better about my own hefty second helping, and we both felt relieved I hadn’t made a dessert to top things off. The more we talked the more relaxed I felt with him. He had let me know what he thought of me and had made it clear he intended to get to know me even better. And although we shared nothing of any real import, I felt easy in his company. He had a knack for getting me to open up to him, and I was just fine with that. He had a quick smile and a very sharp wit, he often caught me off guard with it, causing the all too frequent flush he seemed to love.

I got up to start clearing off the table and Morgan took our dishes from my hands and walked them over to the sink. “Let me get that for you,” he said, “you cooked, I’ll wash the dishes.” I shrugged and put aluminum foil on the lasagna and salad and stuck them in the fridge. After clearing off the linens and wiping the table down I went to the sink to find Morgan drying off the tableware. I put them away in their respective places, and then looked around, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do next. Maybe Morgan needed to leave, after all I had only invited him over for dinner; he very well may have other plans.

I was about to suggest that maybe he needed to head home when he took me by the wrist and gently tugged me toward the front room. The CD player was currently on a Sarah Vaughan song, her voice low and soft, with heavy bass and keyboard in the background. The sun was low on the horizon outside, casting a gorgeous golden glow through the open blinds. Morgan swung me around so that he was facing the window, and his eyes shone like icy blue marble, staring deep into my own.

“Do you like to dance?” He pulled me closer to him, swaying slightly.

“I haven’t really had enough experience to know,” I admitted. He brought me in so that our torsos were touching, and then swung me out, spinning me. When he brought me back in, we rotated so that I was facing the last bits of sunlight streaming through the window. I knew I was blushing again, but I didn’t mind; Morgan was smiling down at me, and he tucked a stray curl behind my ear.

“You look lovely in this light,” he said.

“So do you.”

He brought me close to him again, and we spent the rest of the song swaying, silent, and me with my eyes closed. I knew I should be alarmed at how quickly things seemed to be progressing between us, but I just couldn’t muster up the strength to slow things down. I knew a part (okay, a large part) of why I was so eager to let things keep going the way they seemed to be going was because of his amazingly good looks. It sounds shallow, and in reality, it is; but there you have it. The plus side was that he made it easy to talk to him and open up, which usually is not the case with overly good-looking people. He made me feel like I was special – in fact hadn’t he told me I was? It seemed that flattery would get him far with me.

The next song came on, a classical piano piece by Brahms, and Morgan pulled me closer, so that he was holding me tight against his body. He smelled wonderful, some kind of spicy musk cologne. His shirt was pressed and much softer than I would have thought; it was apparent that money was not an issue as far as his clothing budget went. Morgan started humming softly to the gentle melody and bent over to nuzzle his face into my hair. I felt my breath catch a bit in my throat, and my heart thumped just a little faster and louder than it had before. A thought fluttered through my brain: what if Morgan wanted things to progress further that I was ready for? Suddenly everything I had ever heard about the male psyche and thought process seemed to flash before my eyes. I was definitely not okay with some of the images that came to mind, at least not yet! I started to pull away slightly to look up at Morgan’s face. As I arched my back and craned my neck towards his face I saw his lips twitch, one side curving up, and the next thing I knew those half-turned lips were planted on my own.

Tiny shock waves hit my lips, and then quickly spread throughout my face. It felt as if electrical currents were surging down my spine. I felt Morgan’s arms tighten around me, pressing me against him, and his body, warm and solid, seemed to meld into my own. I brought my own arms up to wrap around his neck, and I let my fingers explore the softness of his corn silk mane. I felt his hands travel the length of my back right before he lifted me to his height. He made his way to the couch and lowered himself onto the leather, so that I was resting slightly on top. His lips parted and his tongue slid smoothly over my lips, causing little but intense explosions in my brain. My tongue reached out and met his own, caressing and exploring. A small voice in the back of my head tried feebly to bring me back to my senses, reminding me that this was headed in a direction I was not prepared to go. I was not the girl who had flings or random make-out sessions with practical strangers; or anyone else for that matter. I was the girl whose longest relationship was over before I knew it had begun. I was the girl who had never been intimate with a man, ever.

Whoa, that did it.

I broke away from Morgan’s gorgeous mouth and pushed away from his rock-solid torso. I felt his hands tighten on my back, but he let me get some distance between us and take a deep breath. I closed my eyes and concentrated on taking a few steady breaths. This wasn’t the most effective method of calming things down since Morgan was tracing my spine with his fingers. With my eyes closed I was able to get all kinds of vivid pictures of the many possible outcomes of this little interlude. I opened my eyes to find Morgan looking at me with a quizzical expression.

“Is something wrong Ivy?”

I let out a sigh and shook my head, “Not with you.”

“Then what is it? Is this going too fast for you?”

“The thing is . . .” I wasn’t sure how to say any of this. The thing was that I was completely inexperienced when it came to physical intimacy. The thing was I suddenly found myself pressed against the most beautiful man I had ever seen, and it was beyond obvious that he was very well experienced in this field. The thing was I wasn’t sure I was ready to be physically intimate with anyone, and I had no clue of where the line was or how to draw it.

“Do you like me, Ivy?”

“I like you more than I’m comfortable admitting to myself,” I said.

“Do you doubt that I like you?”

I shook my head while I kept my gaze fixed on his chest.

“Then what is it?”

“I haven’t actually done this before,” I confessed.

Morgan let out a chuckle, “Done what, exactly?”

I looked him square in the eyes to gauge his reaction, “Any of this. I have never been intimate with anyone. Aside from the extremely occasional kiss, this is going into unknown territory for me. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.”

Morgan looked thoughtful for a moment; his eyes narrowing as he absent-mindedly stroked my back. “I guess I hadn’t really considered that as a possibility,” he finally said.

“I just really don’t know where this goes from here, or what kind of lines exists. And because of my inexperience I’m afraid I would go further than I’m comfortable with.”

Morgan brought one finger up to my lips and traced their edges. He asked, “How does that feel?”

“Lovely,” I breathed.

He brought his finger to my chin and stroked the length of my neck before tracing my collar bone, “and how does that feel?”

“Amazing,” I murmured, my breath quickening. I felt my breasts rising and falling more rapidly, and I allowed Morgan to lower me so that they were firmly pressed against his own strong chest.

“Let me in, Ivy,” he whispered against my neck, before cupping one hand around it and bringing my face to his. He held my face an inch away from his own and held my gaze as he slowly traced my lips with his tongue. My lips parted again, and I let him enter, his tongue coming in even strokes, entering more deeply every time. I found his neck with one hand and let my fingers make their way down to his chest. I became aware that I was fumbling with his buttons, slowly undoing each one. I spread my hand across his partially bare chest, investigating the smooth, chiseled muscles hidden moments before by his shirt. He stroked one hand up my back and caressed my hair before making his way back down my ribcage. Just as I felt I was about to lose all self-control, a knock on the front door interrupted us.

“Oh crap,” I muttered. I felt my entire body being torn between two responses; get up as fast as possible and answer the door or melt into Morgan and allow myself to enter a territory I had never entered before. I chose the first option.

I scrambled off Morgan’s warm body, and stumbled over to the front door, trying to smooth my hair and collect myself. I glanced behind me and saw that Morgan had rearranged himself so that he was sitting comfortably and re-buttoning his shirt. He winked at me, and I took a big breath and opened the door.

“Hi, would you like to buy some cookies?”

I stared down, dumbfounded, at the Girl Scout holding out a box of assorted delicious cookies.

“No, thank you,” I said, and watched as she made her way to the sidewalk and disappear behind the shrubs. I slowly closed the door and rested my head against it, barely hearing the Mozart music in the background.

“Maybe it’s time I should get going,” Morgan said.

I turned around to see him standing by the couch, both hands in his pockets. I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak. In the past thirty minutes I had had more physical contact with a man than I had all the years of my life combined. I found that I was oddly ashamed of this information, and that I also intensely wanted more. That scared me nearly witless, and I absolutely thought it was best if Morgan left.

Moran silently made his way to me and brought both hands up to cup my face. He placed both thumbs over my lips, and slowly stroked outwards to the corners of my mouth. Then he bent and neatly caressed my lips one last time with his own.

“Thank you for dinner, Ivy, it was delicious. I can’t wait to do it again.”

I nodded and opened the door for him to leave. I closed the door, not even waiting to see him safely in his car, and leaned against it while I surveyed the room. Everything looked exactly as it should, just as it had looked earlier this evening, yet somehow it was all different. Things had happened, and nearly happened in this room, which changed the way I saw it. The couch, for instance, now had Morgan’s essence all over it, and I felt my stomach flip-flop as I looked at it. I walked back into the kitchen and wiped down the table and countertops, my mind fuzzy and confused. What had almost happened? Surely nothing would have progressed much farther than it had, right? I knew I was kidding myself, as I remembered how I had felt right before the knock on the door. I may not have known exactly how things would have gone, but if I was honest with myself, I knew where I had wanted them to go.

I shook my head, trying to clear it and got a large glass of water and gulped it down. My head started to throb and suddenly all I wanted was to shower and get into bed. Tomorrow, I started my new job, and the thought of seeing Jodi again made me smile. I found a small bottle of aspirin and took a couple and then went to get ready for bed. I took my small stereo back to my room and plugged it back in, selecting one of the classical cd’s, then I went into the bathroom and decided to take a bath instead of a shower; I was in the mood to languish a bit. I popped in the little plug and let the water run, hot and fast. I then began undressing as I made my way back into my room, throwing my top on my bed. I shimmied out of my pants and threw them on top of my shirt, and slowly walked back to the bathroom. I pulled out a couple of vanilla scented candles and lit them and turned off the rest of the lights in the house.

I walked back to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, the flickering glow of the candles making my reflection jump in the darkness. I slowly stroked my hands over my stomach and then deliberately undid the clasp of my bra, letting it fall at my feet. I brought my hands over my breasts and let them linger there for a moment appreciating more than I had before the firmness of the underlying muscle as well as the softness of the skin. My lingering touch caused the blood rush to them, and then I ran my hands down the length of my torso coming to rest at my underwear. I carefully slid them past my knees, then stepped out of them and straightened back up to take in my bare reflection. My figure, always on the fuller side, but muscular and strong too, now seemed to have a softer, suppler look to it. I looked at my dimly lit reflection and saw a stranger staring back at me from my bright green eyes. I turned off the running water and stepped into the steaming bath and relaxed as I let the water lap around my body. I sank into the calming liquid and let my mind shut down as I listened to Hayden, Schubert, and Mendelssohn.

Long after the water had become tepid, I finally got out and towel dried my hair, letting my body air dry. I yawned as I pulled on a tank-top and a plain pair of white underwear and crawled into bed. I fell asleep with the music still playing, and although I didn’t remember the course of my dreams upon waking, I did remember having more vivid flashes involving two bodies twining together in heat and passion than I had ever had before.