“Amita’s pretty.” I opened up on our way back to the resort.
“Not as pretty as my wife.” Ali casually volleyed back at me with a sexy smile. I returned his smile.
“Cam, Babe. You are the one. It’s only ever been you. I don’t know how to convince you of it, but I’m not going to stop trying.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and lightly kissed it. His matter of fact tone greatly satisfied me and I changed the subject.
“Sandy is truly something special. And who knew that Harold was of Creole descent.” Ali laughed and retorted, “Creole, huh? Is that what we’re calling it these days.”
“Well, his great--grandmother was Creole, Ali.” I chuckled.
“Creole, not Black? So am I to understand that if you’re Black from Louisiana, then you’re Creole.” He was teasing me and I gave up.
“Whatever, Ali. I’m glad we did this.” I relented and slid closer to him in the driver’s seat.
“So am I your man again? Am I forgiven for the working--moon? Am I good enough?” He asked in a cocky tone.
I playfully nodded and leaned over the gearshift, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers.
“Hmmm Hmm. You sure are my man, Mr. Robinson.”
I unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt and kissed his belly button.
“You sure are forgiven, Mr. Robinson.” I purred into his lap.
“Hmm, hmm. You are so much more than good enough, Mr. Robinson. You are my perfect love.” I answered and covered him with my mouth. He shifted in the driver’s seat and whispered, “Oh my, Mrs. Robinson, a perfect love is a tall order.” He trembled and playfully asked, “Are you trying to seduce me.”
“I am.” I answered while pulling down his underwear. I licked his exposed abs and took him into my mouth. He let out a low, lusty moan and whimpered, “Mrs. Robinson. Baby.”
On Saturday morning before we checked out of our beautiful home for the week and hit the road, we opened the letter Sandy had tucked away in the beautiful picnic basket, over breakfast. The letter read only six words:
LOVE EACH OTHER. FIRST AND ALWAYS.
We kissed and promised one another to take the Sandy Beltram’s sage advice. As we hit the road, we called the Beltrams to thank them again and to let them know that we were leaving the valley and heading back to San Francisco for our flight. I promised Sandy, I’d keep in touch and that we’d be back out West before too long -- and I meant it. She made me promise to keep that smile on Ali’s face and the light in his eyes. I did and I intended to keep that promise, too.
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