CHAPTER NINE

     

      Confused, Victoria looked around her on the Sausalito Ferry, asking, "Robin? Where are the other passengers?"
      "I drowned them." He stretched out atop a white, vinyl deck- chair, crossing his long legs at the ankles. Dressed in a casual, cream, linen suit over a beige polo shirt, Robin looked every inch the chic, sporting yachtsman. The only problem was, they weren't on a yacht. They were on the Sausalito Ferry, a commuter vessel built to transport hundreds of East Bay residents into downtown San Francisco. Yet, here it was, six o'clock rush hour, and Robin and Victoria appeared to be the only ones on board.
      Initially, he'd wanted to charter a yacht for them to watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. But, when Victoria cringed at the extravagance, Robin grumbled, "I'm trying to spoil you, love, and you're not helping," and offered a more plebeian alternative -- the Ferry. "There, that's dreadfully working class, isn't it?"
      Victoria said, "No. Really. Where is everyone?"
      Robin cupped Victoria's hand, and pulled her down into the deck-chair with him. She acquiesced without a fight, snuggling against him, resting her head on his shoulder, just below Robin's chin. They linked fingers, and Robin brought the conjoined hands to his mouth, kissing each of her digits, whispering between pecks, "I went to the ticket-booth before we departed, gave them my credit card, and requested that every passenger who wants to buy a ticket for this particular ferry, be given cash cab fare home."
      Victoria's mouth dropped open. "You didn't!"
      "I wanted to be alone with you."
      She'd thought he no longer held the power to astonish her with the largess of his gestures. She'd thought wrong.
      "Oh, Robin." She buried her face in his chest. "What am I going to do with you?"
      He lifted her chin with one finger, meeting Victoria's eyes. "Do I get a vote?"
      She cuddled against him, and sighed. Silently, they watched the sun set, painting the sky in ruby, orange, and purple streaks, then sink behind the ocean with an imaginary sizzle, leaving them enveloped in the silver night. Robin kissed the top of Victoria's head. He said, "You really are amazing, you know that?"
      She looked up at him. "I'm not doing anything."
      "I know. That's the amazing part. We are not doing anything. And I don't think I've ever been happier."
      "Oh." Victoria bit her lip and looked away.
      "What?" He sat up, straddling the deck-chair, shifting her so that they were now face to face. "What's wrong? What did I say?"
      She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. Whenever somebody claims they're happy because of me, I get very nervous."
      "Why? Not that anyone's ever said it to me, mind you -- but, I always assumed it was a compliment."
      "It's pressure." She slid her hands on top of Robin's knees, stroking them absently. "What if I do something to disappoint you? What if I let you down? I don't want to be solely responsible for someone else's happiness, because I couldn't live with myself if I also became solely responsible for someone else's unhappiness."
      Now, it was his turn to glance away, to contemplate the water and wonder what to say next. "You've got nothing to worry about, love, I promise. You'll never let me down."
      "I'm afraid it's not that simple."
      "It's very simple." Robin reclined his forehead against hers. "It's frighteningly simple." He kissed Victoria's forehead. "It's painfully simple." He kissed the bridge of her nose. "You make me happy." He nuzzled her upper lip. "I know you could never make me unhappy." He nibbled her lower lip. "I can feel it." His tongue explored her mouth. "I can taste it." She surrendered to his kiss, knowing that Robin hadn't grasped fully what she was saying, but desperate to accept the last promise he made her. "Everything is going to be alright, love."

      It was after midnight by the time Robin dropped Victoria off. He followed her upstairs and into her apartment, explaining it was the least a gentleman could do. The red light was blinking on her answering machine when they walked in, and Victoria compressed it automatically. Gabriel's voice crackled after the beep, and Robin made a face, rolling his eyes. Victoria slapped his arm playfully, and he smiled in return, to show he was only kidding.
      "Vicky? It's me. Listen, sweetheart, here's the thing. I've sort of been arrested...."

      At ten minutes before one a.m., the few policemen not napping at their desks, were somnambulistically rousing the coffee machine. None of them were prepared for Victoria Morgan to sweep inside the squad-room, demanding to see her brother.
      Lieutenant Pekarek picked sleep out of the corner of his eye, and mashed it between his fingers, studying the result with curious fascination, before focusing his attention on Victoria. He said, "No can do. Gotta wait till morning."
      "You mean you want him to spend the night in here?" Victoria covered her mouth with one hand, and looked helplessly at Robin.
      He addressed the lieutenant, using a tone of voice that always worked on parking attendants and surly wine stewards. "What's Dr. Scott charged with?"
      Pekarek leafed through a mound of paperwork, pulling out a manila folder and skimming the sheet inside. "Insurance fraud."
      "What does that mean?" Victoria demanded.
      Pekarek shrugged. "My guess would be fraud. With insurance."
      "Thank-you so much," Robin said. "You've been no help at all." He tugged on Victoria's elbow, pulling her out of official hearing range, and volunteering, "There's obviously nothing you can do here right now. Let me drive you home, and, in the morning -- "
      "You don't understand. I can't leave Gabriel like this."
      "It's only for one night. We'll call a lawyer in the morning and set his bail."
      "No." She raised both arms, refusing his efforts to calm her down. "I've got to get him out. He can't stay locked up. He's," she hesitated, knowing that Gabriel would despise her for betraying a confidence, but needing to make Robin believe how desperate their situation was. "He's violently clausterphobic. He's been that way since he was a kid and Terrence used to lock him in the closet. He nearly lost his mind locked up at juvenile hall. He'd pull stunts like slash his hands or beat his head against a wall so they'd have to remove him to the infirmary, where there were windows. We can't leave him here. It's a matter of life and death."
      Victoria's lips trembled, and her eyes wouldn't cease darting. She looked ready to cry, swallowing convulsively, moist-red rimming her lids. But she also looked ready to fight, both fists clenched, chin thrust out defiantly, resolved to dismantling the precinct bar by bar, if necessary, to protect Gabriel.
      Robin made up his mind. Giving Victoria a quick hug and what he hoped was a reassuring smile -- what did he know about it, he'd never cared if he reassured anyone, before -- he pronounced, "Okay, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I'm going to play the most desperate, demeaning, humiliating card I have." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to call my father."

      While Robin got on the phone to Douglas, Victoria dug her own road to humiliation as she attempted, futilely as it turned out, to beguile somebody in authority into letting her see Gabriel. It was the only time that Victoria wished for Robin's wife to materialize on the premises. Something told her Nicole Simonge was an expert at batting her lashes and getting men to do anything she wanted.
      She gave up when she saw Douglas enter the squad room, and she hurried over to where father and son were standing, huddled deep in conversation. Their voices were low, and the only thing she heard as she approached was Douglas telling Robin, "It was good of you to call me. Especially under the circumstances."
      Robin's face darkened, and he enunciated each word clearly, so that there could be no misunderstanding his motives. "I didn't do it for him. Or for you." He spotted Victoria coming, and reached out to take her hand. "I did it for her."
      "As long as it was done, son...." Douglas gestured over his shoulder for a gentleman carrying a briefcase and the aspect of a lawyer who just wanted to finish this and get back to sleep. The pair approached Lieutenant Pekarek from both sides, making demands in voices made all the more menacing due to their lack of volume.
      Victoria allowed herself to entertain a modicum of hope. She continued holding on to Robin's hand, letting him stand behind her and wrap both arms around her waist. Victoria said, "It was nice of your father to come. I mean, he barely knows Gabriel."
      Robin grunted, noncommittal, just as Douglas returned from his chat with the lieutenant.
      He told Victoria, "The only person they'll let talk to Gabriel at this hour is his attorney. But, at least it will get him out of his cell, which Robin tells me is our first priority."
      Victoria didn't know which Cooper man to feel more grateful to first, and so she just looked from father to son, stammering, "Yes, I -- thank-you. That'll be a great help."
      "Good." Douglas checked his watch. "We're working on setting up a bail hearing first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I'd recommend you going home and resting up for tomorrow, Miss Morgan. Your brother is in good hands. You have my word. We'll get this all straightened out."
      "Listen to him, Victoria." Robin stroked her hair. "My father is rarely right as often as he thinks he is, but this just happens to be one of those occasions. Your being exhausted isn't going to do Gabriel any good tomorrow. Let me take you home."
      It took ten more minutes for them to positively convince her, but, finally, Victoria acquiesced. At that point, if Douglas and Robin had insisted that Victoria's yodeling would help get Gabriel out of trouble, she would have done it without question.
      She allowed Robin to lead her towards the door. Before they left though, Douglas asked, "Your foster father, the one who locked Gabriel in the closet? Is he still alive?"
      Victoria shrugged. "I don't know. Why?"
      "I was thinking, if he is still alive, there is a man I'd like to see given a taste of his own medicine."

      Robin drove Victoria home, escorting her inside her apartment. All the way over in the car, she had gone on and on about Gabriel, telling Robin stories about their childhood, and about how lucky it was that both got a chance to relocate to San Francisco at the same time, and how, if anything happened to him tonight, Victoria would never, ever be able to forgive herself.
      "But, none of this is your fault, love," Robin insisted.
      "Still, I should have done more to help him." She shook her head. "I'm sure your father is doing all he can, but, I still feel like I've abandoned Gabriel, like I've let him down."
      "There was nothing you could do, tonight. And, besides," he strove for levity. "You are not your brother's keeper."
      "But, I am. I am. See, we're all the other's got."
      Softly, Robin reminded, "You've got me."
      She shot him a grateful look. "I know."
      And Robin realized that no two words, uttered by either a man or a woman, had ever meant more to him.
      Once inside her apartment, he attempted to comfort Victoria by wrapping her in his arms and just holding her, until he believed at least a small fraction of her shaking had subsided. She took deep breaths, trying to pull herself together, clinging to Robin as if he were the last raft between her and complete immersion.
      She tightened her grip around his waist, burrowing her face in his chest, and murmuring, "I feel like you're the only solid person left in the universe. Everything's spinning so fast, I'm afraid if I let go of you, I'll just float away."
      "Then don't let go." Robin inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair, felt the warmth of her breath on his skin, and the way every curve on her body seemed to have been made to melt into his.
      "Alright," she titled her head, looking up at him with eyes so trusting, Robin had to swallow hard to meet her gaze. "I won't."
      "Victoria..."
      She pressed her finger to his lips, shaking her head. "Shh." And, taking Robin by the hand, led him into the bedroom.
      He tried to keep things light, despite the fact that his heart was beating so loudly, he could barely hear himself caution, "I've warned you before, love, I'm no saint."
      She sat down on the bed, gently tugging him to settle next to her. "I don't need you to be one."
      He touched her face like a blind pupil just beginning to learn his way around. Her skin felt so satiny beneath his fingertips, so delicate, like any wrong move on his part could collapse it. Robin didn't think he could bear it if he did anything to hurt her.
      Their first kiss was exploring, gentle, neither one willing to hasten the exquisite perceptions of the moment. He tasted remnants of anxiety on her tongue, and attempted to chase them away, to lure the monster inside himself and keep it from plaguing Victoria. His arms slipped around her shoulders, and, before either was conscious of it, they sunk down onto the bed, Victoria beneath him, her arms around his neck. Unable to hold back any longer, Robin plunged his tongue into the warm, wet depths of her mouth, savoring the way it made her shudder and pull him even closer.
      She wrapped one leg around his hip, her every sense alive and awake and wanting more, more, as much of him as Robin could give. Victoria reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling fleetingly, before slipping her hand in and caressing his chest. She searched for his nipple, stroking it with her thumb in much the same way he earlier had hers, gratified to feel his entire body first stiffen, then relax and enjoy her exploration. He groaned, breaking their kiss, leaving her lips feeling swollen and bruised, and she rolled on top of him, hair brushing both sides of his face, as she unbut- toned his shirt the rest of the way. Her mouth found his ear, his jaw, his cheek, his brow, her hands continuing to caress him.
      Hunger flared throughout Victoria, hunger she'd not only never known, but never imagined she could possess. It drove her without conscience or modesty, compelling her to take her kisses lower and lower, her lips sucking briefly on the cleft in Robin's chin, then moving to his Adam's apple, to the hollow at the base of this neck, and to the granule of a nipple first discovered by her thumb. He moaned her name as her tongue encircled him, his voice husky with desire, and, she couldn't help thinking proudly, a hint of surprise that hesitant, timorous Victoria could spark such enjoyment in him. In all honesty though, she was surprising herself as much as him.
      She slithered down his body till they were groin to groin, and she could feeling him swell and pulsate against her. Even with two layers of clothes separating them, Victoria's body answered Robin's need, and she rode him tentatively, knees pressed against his hips, while sweeping her mouth from his nipple, across his abdomen, and into his navel, her tongue flicking in, out, in, out, and tangling in the fine hairs there. She unbuckled his belt, loosened the fly of his slacks, and, inching her head below his waist, took him in her mouth, a new experience she'd never dreamed herself capable of, and yet one that felt thoroughly natural with Robin.
      "Jesus Christ," his cry was part moan, part exultation, as his hips bucked reflexively beneath her.
      She was maneuvering on instinct now, unsure of what was right, or what would bring him the most enjoyment, but resolved to try her best. Her lips suckled him, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh just hard enough to tantalize with a delicious, almost-pain.
      The ridges of her tongue needled his tautly spread skin until Robin knew he wouldn't be able to control himself a moment longer. He raised his head, clearing his throat through supreme force of will, and managing to groan, "Please, love. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
      Victoria looked up, eyes brimming with honesty and eagerness. "Teach me, Robin," she implored. "Teach me how to please you."
      He shook his head, judging that, after twenty-some years, now was a terribly inconvenient time to develop morals and/or delusions of decency, but also realizing that, at least for the night, he was stuck with them. He propped himself up on both elbows, struggling to explain, "That's not what I meant, love."
      Robin sighed, and, utilizing more energy than he suspected the space shuttle expanded breaking out of orbit, dragged himself away from her unspeakably miraculous mouth, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, seeking to stand despite the obvious physiological difficulties. He tore off his jacket, and reaching into the inside pocket, withdrew, clutched between two fingers, a square of silver foil. He held it in front of Victoria's face, shaking it a little in the hope of making her comprehend that they were, very quickly, approaching a point of no return.
      He didn't want to stop. God knew, Robin did not want to stop. Yet, he also knew that this was his last opportunity to do so. If all Victoria was interested in was a high-school cop-and-feel then, fine, he could deal with it. But, he had to know in advance.
      After all, she was the one who'd set the ground-rules. No sex until after Robin's divorce. Right now, she was upset. She wasn't thinking straight. The last thing Robin wanted was for her to hate herself -- or him -- in the morning. And so he was giving her one last chance to back out. Before they ran out of chances.
      She seemed to understand as much. Victoria's eyes clenched on the foil packet between them. She reached for it with a trembling hand, and balanced it briefly atop her palm. She rubbed her lips against each other, glancing up at Robin, then down again, before, with one decisive slit, she ripped open the package and, with pain- staking care, helped him roll on the condom. Now, there would be no turning back. Not for him. Not for her.
      Robin's heartbeat rang in his ears, his blood boiling to where he thought he might rupture with joy. He stripped Victoria quickly and skillfully, discarding his own clothes at the same time, until she lay magnificently, vulnerably nude beneath him, and gazed up at Robin with such faith, the sight nearly brought tears to his eyes.
      He dipped his head, kissing her flawless mouth, her eye-lids, her elegant neck. He cupped her breasts in his palms, cradling the delicate weight like so much treasure.
      Victoria writhed beneath him, arching her back. "Robin...."
      "I'm right here, love."
      "Please...."
      "What?" He kneeled over her, whispering. "Tell me what you want me to do for you."
      She moaned, "Touch me."
      "Where, love?" He brushed his lips against hers. "Here?"
      "Yes...."
      He flicked his tongue around the swollen nipple of first one breast, then the other. "Here?"
      "Yes...."
      "Here?" He moved between her thighs, lowering his head and kissing the burning, wet core of her.
      A bolt of electricity shot through Victoria as she cried out, "Yes. Oh, Robin, please."
      Her body was his now, all his, and Victoria promised never to retrieve it, if only Robin would promise never to stop his blissful exploration. She'd never known a deep, bottomless gorge of an ache could bring such pleasure. She'd never known it was conceivable to feel so utterly placid, and yet so lavishly alive at the same time. She'd never known she was made up of so many buried chasms, each of which seemed to open up and bloom at Robin's touch.
      His face hovered over hers and Robin stroked Victoria's cheek with one hand, while, with the other, he caressed the inside of her thigh, making her gasp and murmur his name. He whispered, "You are so very, very beautiful."
      "You don't have to say that," Victoria reassured.
      The hand between her legs paused, and Robin's brows furrowed. He pushed himself up one arm, looking down at Victoria and asking, truly mystified, "You don't think you're beautiful?"
      "I...." She was sorry she'd brought it up. All she'd wanted was for Robin to understand that he didn't have to shower her with false compliments.
      "How can you not think...." He sat back on his heels, taking both of Victoria's hands in his, and tugging her upwards until they faced each other, and she sat perched like him, on her knees. Over Robin's shoulder, the mirror above Victoria's dresser gleamed their reflections. Tenderly, Robin turned her face in its direction. He said, "I want you to look at yourself, love."
      "No, God, Robin, stop." She cringed, and tried to turn away, but he held her in place.
      "I want you to see what I see when I look at you. I want you to see how beautiful you are through my eyes."
      "I can't." She buried her face in Robin's shoulder, refusing to glance in the mirror's direction.
      He didn't force her a second time. Instead, Robin maneuvered Victoria so that her thighs straddled his hips. Instinctively, he knew she'd never made love from on top before, and he was eager to introduce her to the pleasure. But first, Robin wanted to get her ready. His hands grazed her back, rippling soft touches along each vertebrae, playing her like an ethereal instrument, and sliding his palms down the back of her legs. He felt how hot she was, how wet, how eager for him when he cupped her in his palm, waiting for that first shudder to pass before snaking his fingers in to massage her ever so precisely from the inside.
      Bliss-tinged pleasure exploded within her, weakening Victoria until she needed to slump against Robin for support. Her breasts burned from where she rubbed them against his chest, and her head spun. His tongue nipped her ear, the heat of his breath seeming to diffuse through her body like steam. She scalded on the inside and out, trying to impale herself against Robin's fingers, but finding that, every time she teetered on the edge of culmination, he'd pull away, whispering, "Not yet, love. We're not finished, yet."
      She wanted to scream, but whether from joy or frustration, she could no longer tell. He seemed to know her every responsive spot, her every secret site. He knew just how much tension was too much and how much was not enough, and how much would make her twist with relish and wish that this moment could go on forever.
      "Alright, now," Robin's voice was ragged, rasping. He wrapped his hands around Victoria's hips, and, before she'd had a chance to utter her sob of regret at his removing them from between her legs, he guided her on top of him, and, with a roar of anticipation and relief, plunged inside of her.
      Victoria's nails dug into his shoulder, the delights pummeling her senses at first too overwhelming to distinguish between, and so she simply clung to him with all of her strength, willing for Robin to steer them both. He bucked inside her, sweat dripping down his neck and lathering Victoria. The tension mounting within her every crevice proved unbearable in its sweetness, and, as it begged and bubbled to be allowed a release, so did a scream clawing primal at her throat. She didn't dare voice it, though. Despite all she and Robin had already experienced tonight, Victoria wasn't quite ready to relinquish that last vestige of control. And so she bit down on her lower lip, keeping her emotions inside, and both beseeching and dreading the inevitable climax because, on the one hand, it was all she wanted, and, on the other, it would mean an end to all this.
      Holding Victoria tightly, Robin increased his speed, thrusting deeper and deeper inside her, savoring her body's tightening as it suckled him, and realizing that her pleasure was his pleasure; the notion surprising Robin even as he thought it. Yet, for the first time in his life, everything seemed to make perfect sense.
      He rubbed his cheek against Victoria's, asking, "Good?"
      "So good," she purred. "Oh, Robin, this feels so good."
      She was right on the edge of shattering, Robin could sense it. And so, right before piloting her over the brink into ecstacy, he, once again, nudged Victoria into facing the mirror, urging, "Look at yourself, love. Look at yourself, now."
      She did. Because it was Robin who asked her to, she did. And what Victoria saw, amazed her.
      In the mirror, she saw a young woman who was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed rose, her lips rich and fervent, her blue eyes sparkling and full of life, her hair, no longer plain auburn but a divine mane of copper and cinnamon and henna and gold. Victoria gasped, and her surprise turned to exhilaration as, with a shout of his own, Robin climaxed inside of her, detonating a barrage of such rapture to course through her veins and vibrate every nerve ending in her body, that she could do nothing but clutch him with all of her might, then let Robin hold her through the after-shocks.
      He cradled her against his chest, stroking Victoria's hair, whispering half-words and endearments that meant nothing, and yet meant everything.
      Exhaustion flooded her. She felt weak, worn-out, weary.
      And unspeakably wonderful.

      Later that night, as she and Robin lay in each other's arms prior to falling asleep, he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin and whispered, "Say you love me, Victoria."
      His behest took her by such surprise, she'd barely gotten over the shock, much less started formulating a fitting response, before Robin, sensing her predicament, reassured. "You don't have to mean it. I just like hearing the words...."