A Merry Month of May

Abbey's skeptical look tells me she's not so sure. "It's not just your parents," she says. "It's neighbors who make other people's business their business, who closely watch the goings on around here. If they see you coming over on a regular basis, knowing that Edward and Alice are away at school, they might question and wonder, even gossip. I mean, I only have so much furniture to move. So, caution's the word."

"Sounds like we have a secret affair going on. Sort of like Donald Trump and his paramours?"

She laughs. "Not quite. The Donald is married. And his affair wasn't so secret after Stormy Daniels went public. Anyway, are you on Facebook or Tic Toc?"

"Just Facebook."

"Well, I'm not and glad of it. "No Facebook posts about us. Pleeese."

I assure her there won't be and then we keep joking about Trump and other stuff until it comes time to part. It isn't easy saying goodbye. At the door, she admonishes herself for tearing up. "Damn it, there I go again."

I hold her, kissing her neck as she wipes her eyes. "I'm close by," I say.

"I know, it's just that I don't want you to leave." She shakes her head. "Ridiculous, I know. But I can't wait to see you again."

After a long and passionate goodbye smooch, I return home. Before heading out the door to shop, my dad quips about me taking so long to move furniture. "She couldn't decide what goes where," I tell him. "Abbey, ah, Mrs. Lane, was grateful enough to fix me a nice lunch."

He doesn't suspect a thing, nor should he. Not yet, anyway. But Abbey's right. Meeting like we just did on a regular basis will arouse suspicion. Like my family, she has both a cell phone and a landline.

Later that night, I miss her so much, I use my cell to call on her landline, the portable that sits atop her night table. It's after eleven.

"Hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh, Dennis, so nice hearing your voice. No, you didn't wake me. I don't sleep too well these days. Your folks...can they...I mean--″

"Can they hear me?"

"Huh huh."

"No. They're still out and my sister Linda's at a sleepover. Just called to say how much I miss you."

"That's so sweet. I miss you terribly also. Just hearing your voice makes me feel less alone. Of course, it doesn't compare to having you snuggled next to me."

"Naked, of course."

"Of course. With your hard body pressed against my breasts and tummy, your delicious lips kissing me and your amazing cock sending me into the cosmos."

"So poetic."

"And so true."

We converse like this all week, doing phone sex and also discussing ways we can see each other without being noticed. What we're doing isn't illegal, but neither of us want anyone we know to find out, least we become grist for the gossip mill. Abbey feels particularly guarded about keeping it from Alice and Edward. "I'd be a total embarrassment in their eyes," she says. My parents wouldn't like it much either. At least at first. But then I can see them, and even Linda, making jokes at my expense. No thanks.

*****

Abbey

You reach a certain age and you realize how life can take unexpected turns. I never thought that in my forties I'd be widowed and beginning a torrid affair with a neighborhood college kid. So crazy, so absurd, and yet here I am, doing just that. We think we know ourselves. We think that what some outrageous situation someone else stumbles into, we never will. But I did. And you know what? I'm not sorry I did. I'm glad that Dennis Merrick is in my life, not just as my son's friend or neighbor, but as someone who I need at this sad, insecure time in my life.

One day, I guess I'll go out with some of those men who call to ask me out. But not yet because I have no desire to. My needs at this point, Dennis has proven he can provide. Yes, it's temporary. And yes, at some point we'll be parting ways. But life is temporary and sometimes too damn short. Sanford's sudden death at age fifty-three brought that home in vivid detail. I felt crushed beyond words. I mourn his passing every hour of every day. If it wasn't for Dennis, my life would be a lot bleaker, a lot lonelier. As he and I discussed, not everyone would be supportive of our relationship. In fact, maybe no one who knows us would. My kids would find it weird, if not inappropriate. His parents, from what I know of them, wouldn't exactly cheer us on. Some of the neighbors would snicker and gossip. And I suppose others would be entertained by what they consider salacious goings on in the neighborhood.

Which is why I'm meeting him a week after our "furniture date" at a Hampton Inn a county over. I called ahead for reservations. Dennis told me he has his "bases covered," that his parents think he's sleeping over a friend's house. It sounds plausible. I mean, if my son were in his situation, I'd fall for it. That is, if he didn't act a certain way where I'd be suspicious.

Standing at the entrance, he greets me with a big smile, watching my white Lexus pull into the parking lot. He's wearing jeans and a white polo shirt. He steps over to my car, gives me a hug when I alight and says, "So glad to see you. I'm so excited."

"Me too, young man." I also show it with hugs and kisses. I stroke his beard. His facial hair is noticeably thicker. In a few weeks, it should give his babyface a more mature appearance.

He likes what I'm wearing, a mint-green blouse and denim skirt hemmed just above my knees. Hardly sexy, though he thinks so. "You'd look sexy in anything you wear," he says.

We carry our overnight bags into the opulent lobby. I check in at the desk while Dennis takes a seat on one of the plush lounge chairs. I could have saved money, reserved a room at some dew-drop-inn. But that's not my style. Besides, I can afford it.

"Man, this is so nice," Dennis exclaims when we enter the room, appointed with a king-sized bed, flat-screen TV, sofa, lounge chair and desk.

I pull a bottle from my bag and set it on the dresser. "I hope you drink champagne. I'm in a celebratory mood and hope you are too."

"Love it," he says. "I haven't had a lot of it. But I've liked what little I've tried."

After sticking the bottle in the fridge, we repair to the dining room for an early dinner. It is just after five. The night is still young, as they say, and I'm looking forward to spending an entire night with this young man. After months of sleeping alone and being lonely, I'll have someone next to me, someone to make love to me and cuddle with me through the wee hours of the morning.

When I traveled with Sanford, we stayed and dined at Hampton Inns in other states, and the dining room here looks similar. It's big and airy, with large picture windows, hardwood floors, track lighting and tables that accommodate two or more diners. While we peruse our menus, Dennis sneaks a hand under the table and grabs my knee. Startled, I glance up.

"Couldn't resist," he says, mischievously. "It isn't easy keeping my hands off you."

I look around, then part my knees, letting him slide his hand further up. He creeps his hand up past the mid-point of my thighs, and that's when I say, "Oh, baby, that's far enough. It's not that I don't want you to, it's that if management catches us, we'll be looking for lodging elsewhere."

He sits up and says, "Okay, I'll be a good boy until we get back to the room. Then I'll be a bad boy."

"I'm counting on it."

Munching on our chicken dishes with sides of green and yellow veggies and rice pilaf, we keep our conversation light. We joke and laugh about running into people we know, what we might say. Such as: 'We came here by ourselves for a convention and just happened to be staying in this hotel.' Or, the old standby: 'This isn't what it looks like.' Or, the truth: 'We're here to spend the night together and came here to avoid being seen by people we know.' Funny to talk about it. Maybe not so funny if such an encounter took place.

We skip dessert and return to our room. I pull the champagne from the fridge and pour it into plastic cups. We sit on the edge of the bed, and then I say, "Dennis, normally I drink champagne only on New Year's. It's a celebratory beverage for something to celebrate. But since Sanford died, I've had damn little to celebrate. That is, until you came into my life. So, cheers."

"Cheers," he says, then we clink glasses. "And here's hoping we'll be in each other's lives for a while," he continues. "You make me smile, Abbey. All the time."

After taking a few sips, I say, "And now you can do what you were doing in the dining room." He looks curious. "You know, the sliding your hand up my skirt thing."

His face goes from curious to mirthful. Then my legs part and his hand begins its journey upward. Moments later: "You're not wearing panties! Ohmygod, that's sexy as hell."

Spreading my legs wider, I tilt my head back and take a deep breath, feeling his fingers dance on my dampening pussy. "No, Dennis, I'm not. Ahh, that feels good."

"My tongue will feel better."

"Yes, I know. Through personal experience."

I place my cup on the dresser, then hike my skirt around my waist. "And I'd love to experience more of it."

Without a moment's hesitation, he puts his cup down, then gets on his knees, while I lay back near the edge of the bed and rest my legs on his shoulders.

"Coconut again?"

"Yes, just for you," I say. A woman's pubic area should always smell good for her man. Mine does for Dennis as it did for Sanford. I should add that those two are the only men I've ever slept with. Another admission: my beloved deceased husband didn't do this as well as Dennis. Sanford did it more out of a sense of duty, while Dennis seems to actually enjoy it. Ohmygod, his tongue is amazing, fast and furious, darting and stabbing in and over my pussy and clit. "I'm beginning to see stars. Oh, baby, you're too much!"

On the verge of blacking out, I push him away, then turn around and ask him to fuck me from behind. "Would love to," he says, and wastes no time in dropping his sneakers and peeling off his jeans and underwear. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I reach behind and guide him into me. My pussy, already drenched and hot, throbs from the thrust of his pile-driving cock. While doing this, he slips his hands under my blouse, snaps off my bra and wraps his hands around my breasts, fingering my nipples, hard and sensitive to his touch. Sanford seldom fucked me from behind--he preferred missionary. Apparently, Dennis is more than okay with it. I just love the sounds of his masculine groaning and the smack of his loins against my butt. So close to coming before, it takes just moments before I climax. Half my body collapses on the bed; my knees hit the floor; my brain goes to black.

The next thing I know, Dennis is sitting on the floor with his arms around me, kissing me. "That was incredible, wasn't it?" he asks.

I blink and shake my head. "I'll say! I'm almost afraid to ask for an encore."

We make-out on the rug for a few moments. I feel his passion and care and I know he feels mine. As if to read my mind, he says, "This isn't just about sex, is it? I mean, this great thing we have together."

I nod and begin to tear-up. "No, I'm afraid not. I mean, I'm glad it goes deeper emotionally, but it's also kind of frightening, given who we are, our situation and circumstances."

"But so exciting," he says. "And the situation adds to the excitement, don't you think?"

"Um, well, I guess it does," I admit, chuckling.

We get fully naked and snuggle in bed. Dennis channel surfs, while I doze off for a post-coital nap. When I awaken, he's sitting up in bed against the headboard, watching a baseball game between the Orioles and Yankees. "Close game," he says.

I'm a so-so baseball fan. I prefer watching soccer, I guess because Alice and Edward both played when they were younger. Those were my soccer mom days, living the typical soccer mom, suburban life. I'd chauffer the kids to their games and cheer them on. On weekends, Sanford came along to watch and cheer. Ancient history it seems to me now.

"You okay?" Dennis asks, sensing my pensive mood.

I rub his leg, covered in light body hair. "I'm fine."

I get up to take a leak. On the toilet, wiping the excess from my pussy makes me horny once again. After returning to bed, I tell Dennis. "We can wait until the game is over," I say. I start playing with his cock, a not so subtle hint that waiting would not be my first choice. He starts to get hard. "Your seventh-inning stretch, huh?"

He laughs at my corny joke. Then he says, "You're more important than any ballgame."

Oh, I love this guy, so attentive to my needs. He grabs the remote, turns down the volume and then embraces me. I feel his erection against my thighs, his lips against my neck, his lengthening, sandy-colored stubble tickling my breasts. I ask if he wouldn't mind if I take top. "Splendid idea," he says in a mangled British accent.

Splendid indeed, bouncing on his cock, my feet planted on the mattress, my boobs slapping against my chest, except when he's fondling them, alternating between doing that and thrusting me up and down, his hands gripped firmly against my hips. "Oh, baby!" I cry in the throes of my climax, a cry that crescendos with his own outburst of joyful release.

"Seventh inning stretch," he says when he resumes watching the game. "Mine lasted longer than what those fans are doing."

On my side, snuggled next to him, hands tucked under my pillow, I say, "Yes, it certainly did. You're amazing."

"No, I'm just with an amazing woman." He throws his arm around me, then bends down to kiss me.

The evening wears on. We make love again, sip champagne, watch TV and talk about the future--our future. We'll have the rest of May to do things like this. After that, probably not. Edward and Alice will be returning from school. Logistically, there's no way I can carry on with Dennis with my kids living at home. "At least you won't be in that house alone," Dennis says.

"No, but I won't have you to hold me at night, to make love to me either," I say. I sit up and then lean against him, my back against his chest.

He wraps his arms around me, plants kisses on my back. "Well, maybe we can work something out," he says. "My folks think I'm staying over a friend's house. Maybe you can tell Edward and Alice that you're overnighting with one of those guys who asked you out."

I doubt that will work, if for no other reason than I wouldn't be comfortable deceiving my kids that way. Nevertheless, I say, "Yeah, maybe. We'll see. But for now, for the next few weeks, let's just enjoy each other's company. The future will take care of itself, one way or another. In the meantime, we'll take care of each other during this month, our own special, merry month of May."