Agoraphobia

Day 1841 - 1845 (You're On My Hair)

The day after Jackie moved out, shortly after nightfall, I visited Dr. Harman on his houseboat. He did not ask why I was there... 

I leaned forward, took his hand, and smelled his wrist. I felt my bones melt.

His eyes were the color of aged whiskey.

"C-c-can we talk about something first?" he stammered as I curled my fingers into his shirt and pulled him to me.

"No," I purred, sliding my hand around his waist.

"Please. I really want to talk about something j-j-just for a minute?"

I leaned into him and my lips brushed the shell of his ear. "No," I whispered, unbuckling his belt.

"I just want to make sure you're not doing this out of a misplaced sense of obligation."

"How's that?" I asked, gently kissing his neck.

"I hope you're not doing this because you feel sorry for me..." I slid my hands under his shirt. "...A-a-and you've been under a lot of stress, and I want to make sure you're not vulnerable or distraught. And there is an age difference you might want to consider."

"You're adorable," I declared, pressing my body against his, our faces so close our breaths mingled. "Let me put your mind at ease." My voice oozed smoothly. "I'm not suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. I'm neither delusional nor confused. I know exactly whom I wish to be intimate with and why." My tone changed. Each word I spoke was slow and loaded with amorous intent. "You're intelligent, kind, and thoughtful. Is it really such a surprise a young woman might find you appealing?"

"All right then. I just wanted to make sure I was not taking advantage of you."

"Taking advantage of me?!" I squeaked, sliding my hands down his pants. "I'm practically raping you." I leaned in and kissed him. His tongue touched mine. A warming sensation slid through my whole body. He wrapped his arms around me. His touch hummed through me all the way to my toes, with stop offs in between.

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I secretly spent the next three nights on the houseboat.

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It was early morning. The chill air was quiet as the sun peeked over the treetops across the river. The morning mist was so thick, it poured into the river like white translucent lava. 

Dr. Harman and I snuggled under the afghan that Grandma Maud had made for me long ago. There's something comforting about the afghan enduring after Grandma's passing. A tombstone or memorial might be durable, but an afghan is so much more personal. And warm. Too warm, actually. I had to kick the afghan off onto the floor. Grandma would have understood.

I was draped over Dr. Harman's body combing his chest hairs with my fingers. We were both awake, but neither of us wanted to move. Suddenly the houseboat rocked slightly. Then there was a knock on the cabin's door.

"Crap!" I muttered.

"It must be Peter!" whispered Dr. Harman.

"Of course it's Peter! Get up!"

"Should I—"

"OUCH! You're on my hair!"

"Sorry."

"Here, put these back on! Keep your voice down. He might hear."

"Okay."

"Say something to get rid of him."

Dr. Harman cleared his throat and raised his voice: "Please don't come in!! I'm not dressed yet! What can I do for you, Peter?!"

"I'm returning that book I borrowed!" answered Uncle Peter.

"Thank you! Please leave it by the door, and I'll get it later!"

"Sure... Or perhaps you can send SAMBER out, and SHE can take the book?"

Several beats passed.

I opened the door and slid out, wearing a robe.

"Hello," I blushed, my face flushed, my red hair tousled.

"Hello yourself," responded Uncle Peter, suppressing a grin. "You were supposed to meet me at the Main House for breakfast. You said you wanted to get an early start. Remember?"

"That's right. I'm sorry. I overslept."

"Did you have trouble getting to sleep last night?"

I gave him a black look, lips pursed. "Don't make a big deal about this... I've just been spending the last few nights here. So there's no need to tell anyone. My parents, for example, don't need to know, okay? And Tabitha doesn't need to hear about it either." There was an uncomfortable silence, and I felt the need to fill it: "Look, It's not like I planned this when I had Jackie move off the boat. It's not like I did that just to get rid of her..." Uncle Peter gave me a bemused look that didn't employ actual eyebrow raising, but heavily implied that a raised eye brow might be forthcoming. "...Jackie was needed at the Main House" I continued. "... Anyway, I want to keep this private, okay?... I've a right to keep my personal life private, right?"

A beat passed. The pleasantly warm sun suddenly felt like the glow of an interrogation lamp.

"I'm sorry, Samber. Could you repeat that? I was unable to hear you over the sound of your talking vagina."

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