30 is the New 20 Ch. 01

"Taylor?"

I glanced towards the end of the aisle to see my ex-husband's sister, Susan, a thirty-something brunette with a wealthy husband and too much free time. I never liked her, but faked a smile as she wheeled her cart towards mine. She made one of those silly embraces where she leans close, as though to kiss my cheek, but never makes actual physical contact.

"It's been so long since I've seen you!" Susan declared, like my absence from her life was some sort of travesty.

"How long has it been?" I played along, "Six months?"

"Too long. You know - I was utterly devastated when I heard you and Richard had decided to split-up," she put a consoling hand on my shoulder, "How have you been getting along? You poor thing."

I could tell by the tone of her voice that Susan assumed I was living in a cardboard box without her brother to support me, penniless and destitute. I really hated her. "Great," I resisted the urge to yank on her ridiculous bob of hair, "I'm doing just great."

She seemed surprised by my attitude and I got the feeling I was missing something. Susan asked cautiously, "So... are you going to the wedding?"

"Wedding?"

Her mouth parted and Susan covered it with an overly-manicured hand as though she had just made a faux pas, "You mean you haven't heard? Richard is engaged."

A sinking pit of jealousy suddenly formed in my stomach. Not because I wanted Richard back, or even missed him, but because he had replaced me so quickly. The ink on our divorce papers was barely ten weeks old! Playing with my hair I struggled to hold an indifferent demeanor, "I...um, no. I hadn't heard."

Susan placed an affectionate hand on my shoulder that I barely noticed, "I'm sure Richard will send you an invitation. Everyone in the family would love to see you."

"I'd love to come," I lied, wondering what kind of gold-digging floozy would agree to marry a man less than three months divorced.

Wanting out, I grabbed the most expensive toaster I could see and dropped it into my cart.

After a curt, but polite, farewell to Susan I hurried out of the store. I was so preoccupied by the fact that Richard was already engaged that I almost backed into an approaching car in the parking lot. The near-accident gave me a jolt of adrenalin that somewhat cleared my head, but the pit inside my stomach remained as I drove home.

A familiar SUV was parked on the street when I pulled into my driveway and the front door was open as I lugged several shopping bags into the house.

My sister's voice came from the bathroom, "Taylor, is that you?" She had a key to the house and often dropped by unannounced, which I didn't mind.

"No," I called back sarcastically, dropping the heavy bags on the living room couch, "I'm a stalker, here to steal your sister's underwear."

"Don't even joke about that," my sister appeared from the bedroom hallway, "A gal I work with had her entire panty drawer go missing. She thinks a teenager who lives next door to her, some kid who mows her lawn, did it."

"Creepy," I replied, giving her a hug as she approached.

Skye was my younger sister by two years, though she looked closer to seventeen than she did twenty-seven. I had always been envious of her youthful appearance and seemingly effortless beauty. She didn't hide her brunette tresses behind blonde dye like I did; Skye had ravishing waves that fell well past her shoulders. She was wearing a skimpy denim skirt and a blue top held up by strings over her shoulders. Skye never had any trouble gaining the attention of men with her perfect Arizona tan and outgoing personality, but I never begrudged her for it. I loved her, and she loved me. She was my sister, my best friend, and one of the only people in the world I fully trusted. After splitting up with Richard, Skye was nearly the only friend I had. You see, following a divorce, a couple's friends are divided up like assets. Friends tend to stick to the person they knew first and lose touch with the other divorcee. In my case, most of my friends were people I had met through Richard, so when he and I split I lost all my friends. Not because they didn't like me, or they were angry with me, but simply because they felt loyal to Richard.

But Skye was always there for me. "What are you doing here?" I wondered after we embraced tightly.

"My laptop is on the fritz again," she pointed towards where it was sitting on my kitchen counter, "I was hoping you'd look at it for me."

"Sure," I exhaled, pulling some toilet paper out of a bag and transporting it to a hallway closet.

"What's wrong?" Skye asked, knowing me better than anyone on Earth, "You sound frazzled."

"It's nothing," I replied, trying to downplay the emotional sinkhole consuming my stomach, "It's just that I ran into Susan at Target."

Skye made a sour face and began helping me unpack, "Remind me to start shopping at Wal-Mart. What'd that bitch have to say for herself?"

"She let it 'slip' that Richard is engaged, but I could tell she was subtly rubbing my nose in it."

"What? You mean your Richard?"

I nodded, "She even encouraged me to go to the wedding."

"You're fucking kidding me," Skye had a potty-mouth, which was something I always liked about her for some weird reason, "What kind of slut ho-bag must she be to marry a guy so soon after his divorce?"

"That's what I was thinking," I remarked dryly, carrying some things into the kitchen. I paused at the fridge to pour myself a glass of iced tea, hoping it would help calm my stomach, "But then it occurred to me that maybe they've been together a while. Do you think Richard was cheating on me?"

"Who cares," Skye carried the boxed-up toaster and set it on the kitchen counter, "It's over between you two. And even if he was cheating, you can't really blame the guy. You were cheating on him, after all - with another woman, no less."

"True," I inclined my head in a nod before swallowing some tea. I always over-analyzed everything, but Skye often had a way of putting things simply (some would say bluntly) that made me feel at ease.

"Something wrong with your toaster?" she asked, looking between the toaster on my counter and the box she carried into the kitchen.

"Oh," I shook my head, "No, that one is for a guy who moved in next door; sort of a housewarming gift."

Skye examined the box, "Taylor, this is a Cuisinart four-slice toaster with digital controls and a stainless steel finish. It's like the Cadillac of fucking toasters. What'd this guy do, eat your pussy?"

I choked on the mouthful of tea I had just swallowed, spewing some of it on the counter. I quickly realized she had been joking, but the irony of her humor was too much.

She instantly knew what my reaction meant and her eyes widened, "Holy shit! You slept with your neighbor?!?"

"No," I tried to lie, wiping my mouth with a back of a hand and reaching for a paper towel, "We just had dinner. He made chili."

"You're lying," she accused playfully, "What's his name? Is he cute?"

A knock came from the front door which interrupted Skye's interrogation. I quickly cleaned myself up and moved to answer. After opening the door I froze at the continued irony of my day, "Johnny."

"Hey," he smiled and his dimples threatened to put me under their spell.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, the question sounding more callous than I intended.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You left a little abruptly after we -"

"Taylor," my sister appeared from the kitchen, "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Johnny glanced at her over my shoulder.

"Come on in," I invited him, stepping out of the doorway. "Johnny, this is Skye - my sister. Skye, this is the new neighbor I was telling you about, Johnny Black."

"It's so nice to meet you," Skye beamed her brilliant white teeth at him, "You made quite an impression on Taylor, it seems."

"I did?" Johnny grinned and glanced between us.

I glared with daggers in my eyes towards my sister.

Skye ignored my facial threats and approached us with a mischievous smile, "Taylor told me she really enjoyed your cooking."

Johnny laughed as though he were in on Skye's inside joke, "Did she."

"I got you something," I blurted, quickly trying to steer the conversation in another direction. I turned towards the kitchen to retrieve the toaster. I returned with the box in my arms, "I noticed last night you didn't have one."

Skye was licking her lips through a smile while staring at Johnny. I jabbed an elbow into her arm after he took the box, letting her know I did not appreciate her giving him flirtatious gazes.

"I can't believe you bought me a toaster," Johnny was looking at the box picture, "That's so cool."

I shrugged non-chalantly, "It's no big deal. Just being neighborly."

"Right," Johnny nodded, catching on to the fact that I wanted to keep what happened between us a secret, for the moment. He tucked the box under a leanly muscled arm, "Uh, I suppose I should get going; I still have a lot of unpacking to do. It was nice to meet you, Skye."

"The pleasure was all mine," she smiled obviously at him, "Don't be a stranger."

Johnny simply smiled back, "I'll see you around, Taylor. Thanks for the toaster, it's great."

I waved and closed the door behind him.

"Oh my god!" Skye gushed as soon as we were alone, "He's so gorgeous! No wonder you slept with him!"

"You were hitting on him!" I quickly accused.

"I couldn't help it," Skye beamed, "Don't worry, I won't try and steal him from you. Does he have any brothers?"

"I... actually I'm not sure. I know he has a sister."

"You naughty slut," she teased, "Going for a younger guy. How old is he? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?"

"Nineteen," I cleared my throat.

"Oh my god," she laughed.

"He's almost twenty," I added in my defense.

Skye continued laughing, "You had sex with a teenager - that's so awesome! How was it? Does he have a big cock?"

"Jesus," I rolled my eyes and returned to the kitchen.

Skye followed me and continued to press, "Does he look as good naked as he does in a tee shirt?"

"Better," I admitted.

"So you're not denying it - you fucked him?"

"Yes! Okay? We had sex. He invited me over to dinner and we ended up having lots of sex. We even did it in the shower this morning."

"Holy shit," Skye sat at a small table I had in the corner of the kitchen, "So is he like, your boyfriend now? Has he passed you any notes during Homeroom?"

"Don't tease," I begged, "I actually really like him."

"Of course you do," she giggled, "You bought him a toaster."

"Please, Skye - I'm serious. I think I'm falling for him."

"I don't blame you," she gestured with her palms, "He seems sweet, and he's completely off-the-charts sexy."

"He is sweet," I nodded, playing with a strand of hair, "And smart. And he's got this confidence about him that's so mature for his age."

"How was he in bed?"

I considered, "Attentive, but a little fast. But he's been in the army for almost two years and it's probably been a while since he'd had sex."

Skye continued to be amused, "Are you sure he wasn't a virgin?"

I shook my head and bit my lip slyly, "Definitely not. A virgin couldn't eat pussy as well as him."

Skye laughed and clapped her hands together once, "You fucking dirty slut. I'm so happy for you! It's about time you got past Richard and moved on with your life."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I warned, "I'm not sure Johnny wants to 'move on' at all."

"Are you kidding? He's totally into you. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have come over to 'check on you'."

"Maybe," I conceded, "Just do me a favor, okay? Don't tell mom about this. She'd freak out and I'd never hear the end of it."

Skye couldn't contain her smile as she made a buttoning motion over her lips, as though sealing them.

=======

Even though my weekend had given me enough drama, Monday was my trial; a self-imposed test of my neurotic insecurities and their limits. I sat working in the spare bedroom of my rented house, which was filled with several towers of computer network trays, trying to get some work done and the same thought continued to run through my head over and over...

I had sex, multiple times, with a teenager. And I wanted to do it again.

I actually got some things accomplished in the morning, performing regular server maintenance and working on a web page for a local chain of golf cart dealerships, but by lunchtime I started wondering if Johnny would call or stop by. That was the moment I realized he didn't have my phone number. I had never given it to him and he had never asked for it. Why didn't he ask for my number? Didn't he want to see me again? Didn't he like the sex? Did he think my ass was too fat?

I reminded myself that he lived next door and didn't need my number to find me, but my mid-afternoon I started glancing out windows to see if there was any sign that he was even home. I noticed his car was in the driveway, but there was no sign of activity in or around the house. Feeling like a borderline stalker I knew I had to force myself away and point my mind somewhere else, but that's when a minivan pulled to a stop in front of Johnny's house.

A woman got out of the van. She was alone and opened the rear sliding door to remove a large duffel bag. As she approached Johnny's front door I noticed she appeared to be around my age - late 20s or maybe early 30s at the very oldest. She was pretty, with curly brown hair and expensive looking sunglasses. A short skirt promoted her unbelievable figure, her legs covered with sheer hose and heels. A white blouse and light professional-looking jacket completed her outfit.

My mind immediately began to race. Did Johnny have a thing for older girls, making me no more than a number in a long list of conquests? Was that his girlfriend? His wife? Why was she carrying a bag, was she planning on staying the night?

My cell phone started to ring, sparing me from a complete meltdown. I hurried to where it sat on my living room coffee table and saw it was my mother calling. I briefly considered letting it go to voicemail, but knew she would just keep calling until I picked up.

"Hey mom," I answered with a little too much resignation in my voice.

"Taylor, have you taken leave of your senses?"

"What?" I asked, caught off guard.

"What's this I hear about you dating a teenager?"

My forehead dropped into my palm. "Have you been talking to Skye?" I growled with frustration, "I swear, I'm going to kill her."

"Your sister isn't the issue here," she said, ever-protective of the baby in the family, "Is this boy even out of high school, yet?"

"Yes he's out of..." I sighed loudly, wondering how it was possible that my mother, with just a few words, could make me feel like I was fourteen years old again and in trouble for staying out past my curfew. "We're not dating, mom. He's a guy that moved in next door to me. We shared one meal, on his back patio. Neighbors do that sort of thing all the time."

"Then why would your sister have the idea that you two were dating?" she asked, as though Skye were completely incapable of any sort of falsehood. "Do you think it's appropriate to be spending time with an eighteen year-old boy?"

"He's nineteen," I professed, going on the defensive, "Almost twenty."

"My god, Taylor. You're nearly old enough to be his mother."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mom. I would've been pregnant at ten years old."

"Lord knows I want you to be happy, Taylor. I want you to settle down with a good man and give me some grandchildren before I'm a drooling vegetable wasting away in a nursing home. But this..."

My reply was dry, "You're only fifty-two, mom. I think you have some time before the drooling nursing home phase of your life begins."

"Have you been going to church? That would be a good place to meet a man."

I sat down on my couch with a heavy motion. I wanted to be honest with my mother, but at the same time there was no way I was going to tell her about my sex-filled weekend with a teenaged guy I had just met. Still, she was my mom and even though I was almost thirty years old I still needed her perspective from time to time.

"I didn't make it to church this weekend, Mom." My next question was honest and heartfelt, "Do you think that makes me a bad person?"

"Oh, Taylor. You couldn't be a bad person if you tried. I just worry about you since the divorce."

"I know you do. But you shouldn't worry, mom. I'm fine. And I'm not dating anyone. If I do get a boyfriend I promise you'll be the third to know."

"Okay, honey. Call me later this week. Let's have lunch."

"Okay, I will. Give my love to dad."

As exhausting as my mother could be, I was glad she called. Her craziness tended to put my own into perspective. Making a mental note to 'thank' Skye the next time we spoke, I laid down on the couch to rest my eyes and tried not to think about anything for ten minutes.

I woke up three hours later, silently admonishing myself for sleeping so long and knew I'd have trouble falling asleep that night because of it. I checked my cell phone to see what time it was and see if anyone had called, but there were no missed calls. I couldn't help a peek out the window and saw the minivan still parked in front of Johnny's house. I tried not to jump to conclusions, I really did, but I couldn't help imagining Johnny and the brown-haired woman having sex on his kitchen counter.

I didn't feel like cooking and called to have a pizza delivered. Bacon cheeseburger, thin crust. When the delivery guy came I noticed the minivan was still outside. While eating and watching a shitty cop drama I forced myself not to think about it, but the van was still there an hour later. And an hour after that. I almost cried when it was still parked outside when I went to bed.

I knew at that point she was spending the night.

=======

I felt like hell Tuesday morning, having slept terribly. I sat in my kitchen wearing a pair of yellow sweats and a tank top, wallowing in my misery and eating mushy cereal that had been sitting in its milk too long. I had been trying to read the paper, but I was too distracted to comprehend anything I was looking at. I wanted to go to the window, to see if Johnny's lover was still parked outside, but I had resisted my urges to do so. I was actually very proud of myself, resigned to the fact that my weekend with Johnny had been an exciting tryst, a fun weekend, but no more. It simply wasn't meant to be, I told myself, no matter how much I liked him. It was silly of me to think any type of meaningful relationship could happen between me and a teenager.

When the doorbell rang I assumed it was the UPS driver. He often showed up around 9:00am and I was an active Amazon shopper, especially since I ran my own small business from home.

"Hey," Johnny greeted me after I opened the front door, catching me completely by surprise with a dimple-flanked smile. He had on a pair of blue jeans and a white tee-shirt, looking ready for a Levis commercial.

"Hey," I replied distantly, trying not to reveal how absolutely delicious I thought he looked.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked.

Glancing over his shoulder I noticed the minivan was gone. "What do you want?" I asked, my frigid words way more cold than I had intended.

"Wow," he remarked towards my tone. "I just wanted to let you know how great that toaster is and see if you wanted to get some dinner tonight, but..."

"Why?" I gave him a look that could wither mold, "Is your girlfriend too busy tonight?"

His eyebrows rose high with misunderstanding, "My -?"