“Hey. Are you dead?”
That’s what she yelled just before walking through the gate to my back yard.
I was sitting quietly on my patio watching the sunset across my pool, no expression on my face and sipping on a Crown on the rocks. A nice heavy bottom glass with large chunks of ice, filled to a fingers width below the rim so you can swirl it as you go.
There’s nothing better than the quiet and Crown Whiskey.
She trotted over to the chair next to mine. “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”
“That’d be great. Could you splash some Coke in it?”
Ugh, what a waste of good whiskey. I knew she would want it, so I was prepared and had everything sitting on the low table ready to mix.
She was a transplant from Chicago, recently divorced and took a new position with her company to get away from the cheating bastard. Her words, not mine.
A beautiful forty-something cutie-pie with a full figure, but still shapely on a five-foot-four chassis. She probably has large C cup breasts that must still be firm and pert because she never seems to wear a bra and they are always where they ought to be. Her heart-shaped, thick ass is very taut as well. She likes her shorts very short, so did I. Her sumptuous moonbeams are always shining.
I’m a mid-fifties marketing professional with a major agency here in Houston. I have an athletic build, a little softer than I was at twenty-five. I have been laid up at home after tearing my ACL, of all things, getting out of my ‘36 Chevy Coupe hot rod after an old school drive-in car show. I was getting out and put my foot in a puddle of water and twisted it when standing.
Anyway, Sheila had been coming over every other day checking on me as I have been divorced from Satan herself for six years and we had no children, so I had no one to help me convalesce. Getting around on crutches the first four weeks was horrible. Now, after six weeks, I was able to walk short distances and help myself to the booze and stove. It has been great having Sheila helping. She had seen everything and took me to the emergency room. She had been mowing her front yard when I slipped.
I had been watching in my rear-view mirror after I stopped in the garage. She was walking behind the little push mower. Luckily she hadn’t lived here long enough to know you hire a service to do the lawn work in Houston. Fuck this humidity, but it worked out in my favor, sort of. Her ass swaying opposite her breasts with each heaving step. Her yard was on a bit of an incline. Her skin was wet with a coating of sweat making her glow like a Nubian princess walking on the banks of the Nile, her dark skin looking like luscious milk chocolate in the evening sunlight. I wanted to go over and lick her from navel to chin. Is it any wonder I didn’t see a puddle of water on my polished garage floor?
This night we had decided we would try to make handmade fettuccine with a basil butter sauce and grilled asparagus. We took our drinks and went to the kitchen.
I moved a barstool around the island to ease the effort on my leg. She gathered all the ingredients we should need and began. About halfway through the making of the pasta dough, she wiped her hand on her shorts. It looked like a perfect handprint on her sweet looking ass.
“Looks like you’ve been getting handsy with me, Jake.”
“It wasn’t me, although if I could catch you, I might try.”
“You naughty man. I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.”
“Might as well, I’ve got mine on you.” We both smiled and went back to cooking. We had been teasing and being, generally, fun loving adults with each other for months.
She had been living across the street for about a year, about a month after she moved in I had waved at her when getting the mail after work one day. We exchanged the normal pleasantries and parted ways. A few weeks later she had come over bearing a bottle of wine and small cheese and meat tray for snacking.
I asked her in and that’s when we started talking about our exes and life in general. She wasn’t thinking about getting involved and neither was I. A match made perfect. I had used visions of her as fodder for personal release a time or ten, but that’s all it had been to that point.
Back to tonight. We finished cooking and sat at the table to gorge ourselves on the bounty we had created. It was wonderful. The pasta was al dente and the sauce was light and flavorful. The bread was oiled and toasted to perfection. The asparagus was the most awful thing I had ever eaten. “That’s why Popeye eats spinach. That shit’s nasty.” We laughed and finished.
While doing up the dishes I had sat back down in the stool while drying the plates and she turned and tripped a bit on my good foot that was still planted beside her. I caught her before she lost her balance and told her, “Be careful I might impale you with this thing,” as I patted my lap by my crotch.
“It would be the first time in a long while I had been impaled by something not loaded with batteries.”
I took her by the hand, moved her close and planted a kiss on her full lips and grabbed the back of her head with the other hand. She pressed into me and let out a very husky moan then pulled back quickly.
We both laughed, but for some reason, it wasn’t the same old laugh at a corny joke. We had looked into each other’s eyes and it was more tense between us now. I apologized and so did Sheila. She said, “I should go.”
“You don’t have to leave. It’s an innocent joke and a lovely kiss.”
“Was it?”
“I don’t know Sheila, was it? I mean, I have been feeling closer to you since you’ve been helping me. You are a lovely woman and the sweetest person I have met in quite some time…”
She interrupted, “I don’t think either of us needs this right now.”
“Look, we are both adults. I hadn’t felt this way about you until the last week or so. I have been anticipating your drink choices and I even know how much peanut butter you like on your p b and j. Let’s at least sit on the patio and talk about it over one last drink for the night.”
“Okay,” she relented, “One drink.”
I poured her a glass of wine and crown rocks for me. We talked for about an hour with no real decision made but, did say we would have dinner again tomorrow night and see how we got on. If it was uncomfortable, we would cool it for a while.
It might have been the most uncomfortable I have been while eating a piece of cheesecake. We were both stiff and not as talkative as usual. At the end of the meal, we kissed each other on the cheek and said we would part for a while and let our relationship gradually go back to normal, at least that was our hope.
I don’t think it’s going to work out.
