Spencer and Ashley head off.

Fish: Remora
Rating: A. Safe for Work

Beta’d by my secret stand in beta until dev returns.

* * * * *

Chapter 22

When Ashley comes to pick me up on Sunday morning, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been. The caffeine probably hasn’t helped me much in that regard.

I had to have a cup of coffee because I’d only managed another four hours sleep, and that was only because I was so tired from Saturday night that fatigue won out over nerves. I can’t wait to see what this weekend brings and in typical Spencer fashion, I’m also completely sure I won’t be able to handle it.

And yet, I don’t call it off.

Brave Spencer.

When she calls my phone, I pick up my bag and shoulder it. I know that I’ve been more frightened in my life. But this anxiety is different to any I’ve ever felt. I don’t know that I could explain why but I feel it in my nipples. They’re half excited and half not. At least that’s how it feels.

I’ve never read my emotions through my nipples before. It’s strange.

I’m strange.

It could be worse; I could be feeling it through my fish. Of course my fish aren’t attached to me.

She’s gorgeous of course. It’s the first thing I notice. She’s leaning against the car in tight jeans and a top that shows her toned midriff. At this rate, we may never leave the city. Her sunglasses are already reflecting the early morning sun, and she looks relaxed.

She looks exactly like I don’t feel. I am not even remotely relaxed. I’m tighter than her jeans. I’m tighter than a remora’s mouth on a whale.

“Hey,” she calls out.

“Hi,” I say shyly.

“Ready to go?”

I nod. My mouth is dry and my body is throbbing. An hour, a day, two days ago, I was sure about this; somewhat sure about this anyway. A week of sex and fun with one heckuva lady, that was the plan. I’m supposed to have three days having the time of my life.

If the present is anything to go on, I’m about to spend three days impersonating a violin string.

My bags are stowed in the trunk and I’m safely ensconced in the front seat, all the while feeling like I’m on auto-pilot. It’s only when she sits in the driver’s seat and pops her shades that I let out the tiniest smidgen of air from my lungs.

“God you look good,” she says, and leans over to plant a kiss on my lips.

All our kisses are good. It could probably go on for longer but I’m already short on oxygen and she pulls back. Her chocolate eyes are sparkling.

Her shades get plopped back on her nose. A hand slides the car into drive as the engine guns, and I realise I didn’t even notice her turn the car on.

Then her warm, warm hand finds mine as the roof of the blue rental convertible slides backwards. The air slowly makes its way out of my lungs as I try to relax just an inch. Having her hold my hand helps. The fact that we’re leaving and I’m not in a position to run away helps far more.

“So,” I say, stretching my legs into the foot compartment. “Where are we heading to?”

“Well, today we’re heading for Torquay. Tomorrow, down the Great Ocean Road, and… well, then we’ll see from there.” Her fingers squeeze mine. “That ok with you?”

“I’m in your hands.”

How hilarious am I?

The drive down from Melbourne to Geelong, the only way to get to Torquay, is pretty darn boring. Ashley though, is never boring. If I didn’t like her so much I might actually think she likes the sound of her own voice. She talks about Australia, about music, about me, about music, about the drive, and I make nice murmurs of recognition. Occasionally I get the nerve up and say a word, or even a sentence. Frankly I just like listening to her talk. I don’t feel the need to say much and as the drive goes on, I slowly but surely relax.

I’ve never been to Geelong before, but I’ve been told it’s quite a nice town. We’re skipping the town itself though and the Princes Highway takes us through the more boring outskirts. Ashley’s nose wrinkles up as she looks out the window.

“This place is a hole.”

I giggle. Then I blush because my giggle was positively school-girl like and I feel like an idiot. It makes Ashley’s nose wrinkle up again, although this time in a happy way. I think she thinks I’m cute.

“I think there are nicer parts of Geelong than this,” I reassure her, looking out the side of the car in the hope the breeze will take some of the red off my cheeks. I’m awfully glad that I put my hair up because I didn’t even know that she would bring a convertible.

I’m probably still a mess though.

Our hands are still entwined, and that makes me happy. Normally I find holding hands for a long time sweaty and uncomfortable. With the few relationships that I’ve had, I’ve never been much of a fan. This though, is different. I feel like I’m attached to her.

Remora syndrome again.

She’s keeping me calm. I’m enjoying the day and enjoying the prospect of the forthcoming time. I’m very scared that if she lets go of my hand, I’ll get the tension back again. I don’t want to be tense. I want to enjoy this. I want to enjoy her.

Her fingers start squeezing very, very subtly into mine. It’s only after about the third squeeze that I feel the slight edge of sensuality to it.

She’s seducing me with her hand.

I sneak a look at her and she gives me a sly glance off to the side. Her shades are hiding her eyes and yet, I know exactly the look she’s giving me.

Oh there’s tension back in my body now, but it has nothing to do with fear.

It actually slightly bothers me that she can do that. To calm me down and distract me with sex is one thing, but to do it so often really, really bothers me. And yet right now it’s awfully hard to think about that.

“Hey,” I say gently.

“Well it’s a boring drive.”

“We’re in the city,” I point out. “You’re supposed to be watching the traffic.”

“Fine.”

I love it when she pouts.

But her hand stays in mine. It stays firmly in mine and I’m happy.

It stays in mine all the way down to Torquay. As soon as we get out of Geelong, the countryside becomes far more beautiful, and for awhile we’re both quiet, just drinking it in. In fact, it’s so pretty, that Ashley actually slows down. She spots a sign, and surprises me by taking a turn off the road.

“Wha-”

“Thought we’d get off the main road,” Ashley explains. She squeezes my hand and I relax again. I kind of don’t want to get out of the car. I’m enjoying our trip together far too much. We drive through the relatively flat land that borders the ocean. I can smell the sea from here, and it’s glorious. I know we’re still a ways away, but I can smell it.

I can always smell it.

I belong to the ocean. I always have. I’ve missed it since Melbourne is further inland than I thought it would be for a coastal city.

I close my eyes and just enjoy the light scent of the air, the hum of the car and the feel of Ashley’s hand in mine.

That is, until the car pulls up and I open my eyes. I didn’t really pay attention to her turning off the road again; I figured she was just doing some back country driving. Turns out I was wrong.

We’ve pulled in to a winery. There are vineyards as far as the eye can see, and an open cellar door not far from the car. It’s your typical, run of the mill, country winery.

“Uh…”

I’m confused.

She shrugs, undoing her seatbelt. “I thought it might be fun.”

Uh huh. Oh boy.

I get out of the car, my legs a little wobbly. I can’t tell if it’s because of my head or just the long car trip. My stomach is grumbling, because it’s taken us a few hours to get here and it’s past lunch time. Ashley closes the door and comes around. I can see her tummy again and my own flips.

She takes my hand and wordlessly I follow her.

We step down a short set of stairs into the cool air of the cellar room. There are a group of large wine casks set up as a display at the front. A middle aged lady is wiping down the dark wood bar that signifies the tasting bench.

Ashley props her sunglasses.

There’s a group of people here standing at the bar with their wine glasses; in hands, at lips and on the bar. The lady behind the bar looks up, smiles at us and then goes to respond to the questions of the guests already there.

I turn to look at the walls, the awards and information posted around, when I feel Ashley’s arms come around me from behind.

Her mouth is at my ear before I can ever move and even if she said nothing I know I’d have melted on the spot for her.

As it was, the husky voice in my ear made my pants flood a little. Not that she needed to know that.

“So, wanna taste something?”

I swallow. The dirty little wench knows exactly what to say.

Only she doesn’t know how I’m going to respond.

“I figure we can get a nice bottle of wine for dinner,” she’s still speaking huskily in my ear. I’m quaking at the knees, but there’s a part that has nothing to do with the sexy woman behind me.

What is she going to think.

“uh…” I’m not very coherent.

“And you know, for … after dinner,” her implications are obvious.

I take a deep breathe. “I don’t drink…” I whisper.

There’s a pause. “Oh.”

“At least, not wine, and uh, really not often,” I add lamely.

And as usual, she does nothing I expect her to. She doesn’t push me away, or let me go, or act in any way uncomfortable. No, she just hugs me, kisses my cheek and says “mind if I get a bottle?”

I shake my head. “Go ahead.”

She’s pretty circumspect and only tastes a few wines. She buys two bottles, a red and a white, and we walk back out into the midday sun. I watch her rub her tummy and bite my lower lip.

“Lunch time I think,” she grins at me, her sunglasses going back to her nose.

“Sounds good to me,” I murmur.

I want to sigh, but she’ll ask me what’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong per se, it’s just that in our stopping off, I’ve gone back to feeling off kilter. I don’t like it. I was having fun.

Driving off, I relax a little again, however I still feel the tension in my shoulders. We hold hands all the way back to the highway. When she tries to turn onto the main road still holding my hand she very nearly ends up on the wrong side of the road and I pull my hand back.

“Hey, watch it!” At least my tone is joking.

She pouts at me. “I didn’t want to let go.”

I roll my eyes but keep my hands firmly in my lap. I very much don’t want her to crash the car. That would not be a very good start to the holiday. In fact, it would be a definite downer, and somewhat of a precipitous end. The hand stays firmly in my lap and even though she goes looking for it, I don’t let her get it.

She pouts some more.

It’s awhile before we pull up in Torquay itself. The town is small, but neat. There seem to be an inordinately large number of surf shops though, enough that I notice. We pull up to the curb and I look out. I can smell the ocean so much more strongly now. The deep breath entering my lungs makes me smile, and helps with easing the tension from my muscles.

The sun is shining, I’m with a gorgeous woman and the ocean is right there.

When she comes around the car and takes my hand I look down at our linked parts and my grip tightens. I want to be happy. I want to enjoy myself. I’m not sure I even know how anymore but she does. And I’ll grip on tighter than a remora if she’ll take me there.

Because I want to go there with her.