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Going Home

Ron Iannone

    She had golden hair and deep blue eyes. Stunning. I turned and saw her as she brushed my back with her breasts, sending a sexual shiver throughout my body. We talked about nothing as is normally done at Christmas parties. On and on it went. Both of us, I know, were thinking how do we get beyond this shit?
    Her name was Jane Summers. I met her briefly one other time at the docking area where I docked my boat. Someone introduced us as I was leaving. I remembered she told me she owned a wine and cheese shop at a local mall. I also remembered thinking she seemed lonely and troubled.
    My wife came up to us at the party and said she had a Christmas gift for Jane and that someday I would deliver it. My wife Susan was a cute brunette with a fading cheerleader figure. She believed in giving gifts to neighbors at Christmas time. That was the kind of woman she was. Pleasant. Kind. And compassionate. Just plain nice. I was a computer programmer at a large pharmaceutical company in Wheeling, West Virginia.
    For some reason, I couldn’t get Jane out of my mind the following week. Sex is what I thought I wanted, or was it something deeper? Like any other married man, I had my share of affairs. Casual. Wild. And over in a few months. Anyway, I loved my wife very much while craving wild forbidden sex with others. Just before Christmas, I called Jane one evening, and I said I was coming by to drop off her gift. She said she also had a gift for us.
    That evening, we awkwardly exchanged gifts, and then, out of nowhere, I kissed her hard on the lips. Soon after, our bodies were pressing into each other as our tongues twisted crazily around. Then, quickly, I began to leave.
    She said, “You better call me and I mean it.” We were outside now. A full moon shone behind her, and the beams caught her just right, making her look ghostly and halloweenish.
    I thought at the time that I would never call her, but I did, as I thought about her penetrating blue eyes gazing at me. Something was driving me insane to be with her again. We arranged to meet at her place two days later.
    She texted: “I look forward to seeing you again. I have some secrets.”
    Once at her place, she told me she had been married three times and raped two times by two ex-husbands. She also had a daughter who was now in an abusive relationship.
    “Like mother like daughter,” she nervously laughed. “Most men are looking for a quick piece of ass.”
    I disagreed. However, I also found out that, like me, she was an ex-Catholic and fed up with its dogmas about divorce, gays, and abortion. In short, we hated the oppressive nature of the church. Now we both sought something more spiritual that we both had found in the readings of Edgar Cayce. We liked his ideas about heaven. There is no hell, purgatory, and limbo. Everyone starts off in heaven, Cayce said, and comes to earth for spiritual growth and enlightenment. Even Hitler-like people go to heaven and come back through reincarnation to serve others. Each time on their journey back to earth individuals transform to a higher level of goodness.
    As we talked, we drank wine and more wine so that when we got to talking about philosophy, meditation, and unlocking our spiritual entities, we became devoured into each other with deep passionate kisses. Somehow, like that, we were naked and in her bed. Before I knew it, we were both having orgasms. She, I think, had three or more while I never had sex so hard, deep and almost endlessly.
    Pressing hard on me, she whispered, “I’m home with my father. Can you see him? He’s a chief and sitting next to me beside the tepee with our wolves as our guards.”
    Her hand shot up quickly as she twisted it. “See the cliffs and beautiful mountains? See the sky? Hear the sounds and smell the air. See...”
    Fuck, I thought. She’s a nut case.
    I had all sorts of thoughts about bringing her to the ER with her hand frozen and twisted arm in mid-air. I tried to gently shake her, and she began to cry uncontrollably.
    “Father, I wanted to stay home with you.” Finally, she slowly came back to this world as she curled up into my arms. She thanked me for bringing her to her home. She said because of my tender lovemaking she was able to stay home longer than ever before. We were in the fourth dimension.
    “Did you travel with me?”
    “Yes,” I lied. Still, I couldn’t relate to her world of chiefs and Native Americans.
    The next day at work I tried to concentrate on developing a program to sort out the company’s generic drugs. She texted: “I love you and thanks for opening a new portal to my home. xoxxxoo.”
    I texted back: “I’m afraid I need to understand what happened last night. I’m scared I’m losing myself in you. To be honest, I felt the love but I only saw the wolves baring their teeth at me.”
    She texted back: “Tonight you will see my home again. I need to see you or I might do something crazy to myself. Love and miss you.”
    Oh, my God, I couldn’t let her do something crazy. I would never forgive myself.
    I texted back: “I will be there, but we must really talk about the world you’re going to. Right now, I’m not even sure I saw the wolves.”
    She texted: “I understand, hon. Everything will be clearer tonight. Can’t wait. Love you forever.”
    When I go tonight, I thought, I will break it off and get back to the normal suburban life: going to the movies once a week, having dinner out once a week, watching football once a week, and, of course, making normal love once a week. I wanted normality, and right then she and I were living abnormal lives, even though Jane’s world haunted me along with the deep love I felt for her.
    That night I talked to her about my fears of her not coming back from her home. She said not to worry, that once I experience her home and fly above her world everything will be clear.
    Like before, we drank and talked, drank and talked, and like that, she had me guiding her to her home again.
    This time, as we made love greedily, I was swimming in a warm brown liquid as my hands, arms, body got swallowed up in her black vulva. I saw her father with his multi-colored headdress. He smiled at me as we sat outside near a bright white tepee. I had never felt such contentment and peace.
    As before, it was hard for her to come back and for me it took all I could to also get back.
    Later, I texted: “Last night was the scariest of all. I went through a portal where I journeyed with you through dimensions where I felt warm light and pure peace. Now all I want is for you to think about me all the time, just like me. All my love, addicted to you.”
    She texted: “Strange, I was wondering how you were doing after last night. The spirit for us is strong today. Tonight. I have a major surprise for you. I love you!!! P.S. I may stop by after lunch. I’m thinking about you all the time. Answer yes or no: would you take a bullet for me?”
    I texted back: “Sure. All the time.”
    Jane stopped by my office after lunch. She ran into my assistant Alice coming out of the office. She is in her mid-forties and still very attractive in a classical way. A few years ago, we had a brief affair, but I called it off because of her controlling nature. By her actions, I felt she wished it was still on. When Jane came in, she angrily slammed the door closed and accused me of still having an affair. She saw cushions on the floor from my sofa and assumed something happened.
    “You are like all other men!” she screamed. “I smell her perfume,” she said as she approached me.
    I said, “Nothing happened.”
    “Once I would like to trust a man!” she yelled.
    “Nothing happened,” I said. “Don’t do this. I was working on a report with her. I love you.” I grabbed her and kissed her with lust and passion and soon she stopped resisting.
    “Damn you,” she said afterwards. “If I find out you’re cheating on me, I’ll kill you,” she nervously laughed.
    I also laughed with a little worry.
    I had some control issues when she couldn’t meet one night because she was doing something with her gay friend Liz. My wife said I enjoyed being distant and also controlling. I knew I was good looking, being six two with long dark hair. I worked out often, so my chest, arms, and legs looked well chiseled. Women, I knew, were attracted to me. Some women, like Alice, saw me as being dark and haunting. Jane said she needed her gay friend and girlfriend. She didn’t like being controlled. I told her I would work on it.
    “I hate possessive guys.”
    “I understand,” I said, “but because I am so busy, my time is limited also. When I’m free, I need you to be there.”
    “Just don’t be a jerk,” she said.
    After these fights about my control, our lovemaking was mind-blowing and yet gentle and respectful.
    She texted later that day: “I can’t wait until tonight. I don’t ever want to think you will be with another woman. Your wife is nice but I know you have more with me.”
    That night we talked about seeking newer and deeper levels of spirituality that we would travel through as we went home together. Earlier, she talked about wanting to linger or stay for good at her home. She worried about her daughter and would miss her. I wanted her home, but I still wanted to come back.
    Tonight we didn’t need as much wine as our sex was more fierce than ever. She asked in the midst of our heated and passionate sex if I loved her.
    I said, “Yes.”
    “Deeply?”
    I said, “Yes” again.
    “Good,” she said.
    Then suddenly I felt something cutting into my back. It hurt. Now I felt something stabbing at the right side of my back. Shit, it hurt like hell. There was hot liquid-like stuff dripping down my back now. It felt like I was rubbing against a barbed-wire fence. She asked again, “Do you love me?”
    I said, “Yes,” but wondered why now I was having a hard time breathing. I tried to push her off me and then suddenly saw a shining kitchen knife in her hands, plunging it into her heart. Soon blood began shooting out like from a powerful water hose.
     As my world grew darker and darker but warm, I heard her say, “We will be home, my sweet one.”



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