|Chapter 12||Table of Contents||Chapter 14|
Olivia, August 30, 2055
All of a sudden I had a whole lot of woman on my hands. It was a whole new ballgame. Olivia was smart, sexy and a lot of fun. I stayed at her suite the first night and the next we spent at mine.
Matt and Jon just laughed when I explained why I had stood them up. Jon went back to Ottawa. The Senate was not in session, but the Senator had research and PR jobs lined up to keep him busy for a month. A week later, Matt came around to say goodbye. He was heading to the coast.
“I’m glad to see you’re not alone,” he told me, looking at Olivia’s night gown draped across an arm of the front room couch.
It was funny-strange. Dad was gruff and uncompromising, but he had been the heart of the family. When he died, we flew apart like repelling magnets, until there was half a continent between us. It didn’t bother me, but it stayed with me.
At first, Olivia and I alternated sleeping places. Then as we were carrying on so heavily, she decided to save her rent and moved into the house with me.
One morning in the first floor guest room which had become Olivia’s room, I was musing aloud about my brothers leaving, when she rolled over on her elbow half above me.
“Don’t worry about them. They’re big boys.” She kissed me. Then she started fumbling with the covers between us and settled on top of me.
The rising sun caught her hair as she threw back her head. Olivia was glorious, an expression of exhultant female sensuality. I relished her like time would never end. I couldn’t think of anything else. Her stomach, her breast, the curl of her hair, the feeling of making love, the sheer joyful fuckery — I lived and breathed Olivia — at school, at home, walking alone, in a crowd — Olivia — her beautiful face, her exquisite body — Olivia.
And she had just fallen into my lap. I mused about that a good deal.
Excerpted from _The Bottleneck Years_ by H.E. Taylor
For further information see:
A Gentle Introduction.
Last modified November 6, 2012