ARMAND PART IV
Armand seemed his usual self, giggling and twirling Samantha on the dance floor. How he had slid his hand up the back of her thigh the night they met, and tonight, when they strolled off the dance floor to rest and sip their drinks she held on to his warm hand and placed it on her thigh under the table.
He looked at her, “Johnson! What are you doing?”
Samantha smiled and guided his fingers up to her panty line.
Armand peered around at the crowded room, then touched the silky fabric between her legs with his pinky finger.
A surge of desire rushed over her, “Mogadishu, let’s go home now.”
He smiled and lifted his eyebrows, “It will be a long drive, Johnson.”
She peeled off her panties and placed her hand on his hard thigh, tightened and squeezed while he drove. By the time they left the freeway Armand had pushed her skirt up and slowed to peek between her legs under the streetlights as they passed. She pulled his warm right hand to the heat of her inner thigh.
“Okay Johnson, I will pull over and spank you if you don’t stop that!”
“Me? She laughed, I dare you!”
He slowed under a street lamp breathing hard and he stared as if he’d never seen such a delicious display of female brazenness. Then he cleared his throat and continued driving.
She laughed each time he’d slow again and crane his neck to stare between her legs. He then put the porsche back in gear and sped toward home.
The garage door shut behind me and he walked around and opened her door. She turned and placed her legs out the door, her dress still above her waist. Armand leaned against the top of the car, his head resting on his arm, growling, “What am I going to do with you, Johnson?”
Taking a step back he pulled her from the car and carried her up the steps to the door, twisted the nob and kicked it open. He dumped her on the sofa and dropped his pants and he pried her legs open with his knee.
To Samantha’s surprise, his head was between her legs. She could not have imagined he would do such a thing. Tonight he held nothing back. Like a prize bull, he delivered a powerful orgasm.
He rose and climbed the stairs to the bedroom and called down, “Johnson, come to bed!”
Samantha had never slept in his bed, this bed in his home on the island. Far more intimate from the canyon house with all his personal stuff surrounding them. She climbed the stairs, walked in and slipped under the sheets.
He pulled her to him and whispered, “Johnson, I want you here. Live with me!”
Her eyes widened then closed, but she didn’t sleep. How had he captured me so slyly? Was it the sex? No, he is a guy who decides what he wants and grasps it. She loved that about him, but his ownership of her held certain issues that needed discussion. She had many questions. Her children, his children. What would their life be like together meshing families? Was it too soon? What is his relationship with his ex-wife?
Samantha imagined a living a pleasant solid relaxed life for Amy and Chad. What was Armand like with his own precious children? His passion for life excited her. Armand had the potential to be a stalwart male influence for her children.
Amy cried, “Why do I have to call Nancy mommy?”
“She’s not your mommy, I am.”
They treated Samantha as though she were dead. This was an opportunity to overturn the imbalance of power. With Armand’s help, she would correct her biggest concerns. Calmness streamed through her. With Armands’s ability to make things happen, this may be the solution.
Morning light filtered through the linen draperies. She had a fitful sleep and lingered, then turned to her right feeling for Armand. But he was up and running his five miles. She stood and opened the curtains facing the lake, then turned and saw her dress hanging over a chair. She slipped it on and walked out to the railing breathing in the fresh morning air, and imagining what life would be like here. The serenity, the silence, the beauty put her a peace.
A moment later Armand came bounding up the stairs, “Johnson!”
He raced in laughing while toweling the sweat from his face.
This man wakes up happy! For her there was nothing more energizing than a person thrilled to be alive, to meet a new day with gusto.
“I’m showering Johnson, there’s coffee in the kitchen.”
It seemed he was still jogging as he raced past her. He was much like her son who never stopped moving.
“Armand,” she called, I don’t have my things here. I need to go home and shower too.”
He stood with a towel around his waist, leaned in and turned the spray of water on. His massive chest and taught body melted her demeanor.
“Why don’t you pack some things and bring them here? Wait, pack everything!” he declared.
“Because, Mogadishu, we need to talk before that happens.”
“Okay Johnson, you go do what you need to do and when you come back, we’ll talk.”
He snapped his towel at her butt, then stepped under the running water.
She removed her dress, strolled forward and pressed her flesh against the shower door.
He opened the door and dragged her in. He moaned when she soaped his underarms, then moved to massage between his legs.
“What are you doing to me, Johnson?”
He moved up behind her and entered her with a great howell. She washed and stepped out, to let him recover. I’ll bet he’s ever done anything like that, she smiled.
Samantha drove to her apartment and brought back a small wheeled suitcase, things she would need for overnight, a change of clothing and toiletry items. She would not give Armand the impression she was moving in prior to the discussion he avoided. But she would give him another chance, so left her bag in the car until he complied.
Vulnerable to Armand’s enthusiasm, she could not do otherwise. Like a child, his tendency to look away from the big picture worried her. She hoped their talk would end on a positive note.
Armand met her in the driveway expecting a moving truck. She led him into the kitchen for a chat. “Okay, this is when you tell me how all this works,” she said.
“Johnson, we’re good friends, trust me, everything will be fine.”
“No,” she said.
His eyebrows furrowed, “No?”
“When will your children to stay with us?”
“We don’t have regular visitation as you do, I take my daughter out to eat on weekends, then she goes back to her mother.”
“So, how will we organize our lives around our children? Would they be meeting and playing together?”
“We’ll see, I’ll think about that.”
“What role does your ex-wife have? I mean she lives close by, right?”
“She lives off the island. I don’t want you talking to her. She’s a difficult person. I won’t allow her to come here either.”
“Armand, I haven’t met your children yet, why not?”
“Doria’s old enough, I’ll invite her for dinner.”
How old is your boy?”
He stood, “he’s too young,” he said flatly.
“What about my access to the Island when you’re not home? How many days do you work in Los Angeles? What is your schedule like?
And here is the big question, If I live here I will ask for custody of my children.”
“I want you here with me, he said. We’ll make a good life and one day we will get your children, you’ll see.”
Those were the magic words for Samantha.
“And, you won’t need to think about paying rent anymore,” he gleamed.
Samantha weighed his promises. She would save money for sure and spend more time with Chad and Amy. The prospect of having them with her again was the biggest factor. How simple life would for them here, away from that cramped apartment. They loved being on the road, spending the day at the beach but this would offer the simple option of staying home and paddling on the lake. Seeing their mom happy again would make them smile, and Armand’s nature and enthusiasm would influence them.
She shrugged, “It’s Sunday, let’s do this today.”
Ginger was fine about the move as long as Samantha paid the full month’s rent.
“Also, I imagine you have plenty of nice furniture in the new house.”
“What are you getting at?” Samantha said.
“We’ve been using your round dining table for months, and I don’t have one,” Ginger pouted.
Armand hung back in the open door. The chaos, the mess of toys and loud raucous shouts from the boys as they wrestled each other with no discipline embarrassed Samantha.
“Boys!” Ginger screamed.
“I suppose you want the matching chairs too?”
“Yes, and your bed and dresser so I can rent your room easier.”
Samantha turned her head toward Armand.
She had only a few boxes stored in the closet with her hanging clothing and Chad and Amy’s board games and their book collection. She loaded a box from the dresser and some photo albums. Then relaxed because they wouldn’t need a trailer and because Armand was being Patient under uncomfortable circumstances.
He placed his hand on her knee and squeezed, but he didn’t say a word on their drive back to the island.
Armand made space for her clothing in his closet and emptied two dresser drawers for her. They stacked the boxes in the garage. Samantha counted three extra bedrooms upstairs. He had converted one small room into an office. The two others she assumed belonged to Armand’s children.
He noticed her stress, “Don’t worry Johnson, the baby never spends the night here.”
What baby? She felt foolish even asking.