Meet Me in the Middle

"For a few months after the divorce, I had no interest. Then I figured I needed to get on with my life, so I asked out some women I knew, but it was like, I don't know, rebound dates maybe? I'd go out once or twice and then not feel like calling them again. I mean, I didn't ghost them but I didn't ask them out anymore.

"It took about a year before I began to treat it seriously. I asked out this one woman I knew that I thought was really nice. And she was, and we saw each other for a couple of months. But I got the feeling she was looking for a husband rather than looking for me. Does that make any sense?"

She nodded in complete understanding.

"So, we broke up, and then I was seeing another woman but she made it pretty clear that she wasn't looking for a husband, as in, 'This is fun but I'm young and not going to think about anything beyond that.' I wasn't looking for that either, so we broke up."

Miranda nodded again.

"There was another in the same vein as that last one, with the same ending, which put me back in a bit of a funk. Then my buddy, Dave, hooked me up with a cousin named Debbie, and it seemed to work for a while. We went out maybe four months. It was nice to have someone to come home to at night ..." he broke off, looking embarrassed. She just smiled and made circles with her hand to say keep going.

"I started wondering if it might last. But, then, I started thinking about how it had felt with Ellen and things with Debbie just weren't like that. They didn't feel as real, like we were just playing house. So, little irritations started getting bigger for both of us, and I decided to call it quits. She's seeing someone else now."

"So, based upon Debbie, you might be carrying a torch for Ellen after all?"

"No!" He shook his head emphatically. "Definitely not. I'm carrying a torch for being as close to someone as I was with Ellen. Or actually, even closer. But Ellen and I are over."

She took a drink and said, "Fair enough."

They sat in silence for a moment, then he asked, "Are you done making me uncomfortable?"

She grinned.

"Okay, Randy, what about you? How's a nice girl like you still in a place like this with a man like me?"

"I'll go out with anyone who asks who doesn't actually repulse me."

"Oh," he said, nonplussed. "I guess that shoots a hole in my ego then."

She laughed. "Relax, partner. I'm serious, but ..." She held up a finger. "I'll go out once 'cause, hey, you never know. Getting a second date is a lot harder. I have to like you, not just control my gag reflex." He grinned as she continued, "And a third really narrows the field. There've only been a couple men in the last year or so who've gotten to number three."

"This is number four for us."

"Darn skippy it is," she said complacently.

After a moment, he said, "This open-door policy on dating ..." He let the implication lie there.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand, and it was her turn to find the conversation a bit uncomfortable. "If you're asking if I believe in open relationships, no, I do not. Not after a certain point."

"Are we at that point?"

"Richard, we just got over our first fight."

"What fight?"

"Trust me, we've had our first fight. It was my fault completely. If I didn't say sorry before, I mean it when I say I'm sorry now. For tonight, let's just enjoy the wine."

He sat there, mystified, trying to remember the fight that didn't happen.

It was late by the time he got her home and both of them were tired, but not so tired that he didn't put his arms around her and lean in for more than a quick kiss. She melted up against him.

"Good night. I'm really glad you called, Richard."

"Me, too." He leaned down again and pulled her tighter. His lips met hers again, making light contact while his tongue teased along the edges. His hand stroked her side, barely making contact with the side of her breast.

She laughed and pulled back. "Down boy! You're not coming in tonight."

He grinned. "Well, would you like to go out again?"

"Yes. Now good night!"

"Do you like dancing?" Richard asked her, the phone cradled on his shoulder as he counted out the cash drawer.

"Yes."

"Well, the Rotary dance is Friday, and I'm going because I got roped into helping set up this year. Would you care to be my date?"

"Well," she said hesitantly. Richard got a bit nervous. The thought that maybe she was blowing cold again disappeared when she continued. "I'd like to go but Friday's are tough because Ed is off and I don't know exactly when I'll get done. What time do you have to be there?"

"It starts at seven. But I have to be there at six."

She thought for a moment. "Would you mind terribly if I met you there? I could shower at the office and be there as soon as I could."

"Sure."

"Sounds good then."

His arms felt good around her. She felt his face nuzzle into her hair and her smile became visible as he said, "You smell great!"

She snorted. "I probably smell a bit like sweaty girl. It's a million degrees in here."

Richard shook his head. "No, you just smell good."

"You're a charmer but can we go outside and get some air?"

They stood out on the deck, the only ones out there, sipping beers and letting the cool night air do its work. A couple more songs passed as they talked and then they heard the band's vocalist say, "Okay, folks, that's about it. Thank you for listening tonight. We've had a great time.

"Gals, a last dance with the one what brung ya. Guys, put down your bottles, rescue your sweetie from whoever is boring the hell out of her, and get out on the floor." The opening bars of "We're All Alone" drifted out.

"I love Boz Scaggs," Miranda said. "Come on, big boy, you heard the woman!"

He grinned. "Hey, I didn't bring you. You came in your own car."

She arched an eyebrow. "Really? That's the way you want to go here?" She pretended to be looking in through the window. "Hmm, there's got to be at least one single, reasonably sober guy in there."

He laughed and held out his arms and she stepped into them. It felt nice to both of them.

Richard felt the press of her left breast against his rib cage, a sensation he had found unbelievably sexy since the first time back at the eighth-grade dance when Mary Wilcox had snuggled in a bit before the chaperones had coughed an "Ahem" to remind them of the rules.

Miranda felt his arm pull her in a little more snugly and she smiled to herself as she felt a very slight twitch where her hip met his body. She took her right hand out of his left and put it up to join her other arm around his neck, laying her head down his shoulder.

The gentle weight of her against his body felt wonderful to Richard. He worried for a second with the age-old male's worry: not wanting things to get awkward with an inappropriate rise in the pants. Then he dismissed it. She wasn't grinding or rubbing on him, just dancing close, and he wasn't some teenage boy whose dick had an uncontrollable life of its own at the merest hint of a girl. So, maybe a little tightness but things wouldn't get embarrassing. Besides, a woman as fantastic as this had probably noticed an interested man or two in her life and could handle it with aplomb. She did feel wonderful, though!

Miranda felt his hand making little stroking motions against the small of her back. Then she felt one slide down over her rear very gently, not pulling her against him, just a caress.

"Umm, move your hand," she said quietly.

He chuckled and gave a squeeze, keeping it there. "It moved."

She pulled her head back to look at him sharply. "Richard, I'm dead serious. Take your hand off my ass right now or I'll do it for you."

He moved his hand quickly up to her back, muttering, "Sorry."

She nodded and leaned into his shoulder again for the rest of the song but the mood was broken. She could feel the tension in his shoulders and a quick glance up at his face showed his mind was elsewhere, evaluating what had happened.

When the song was over, he stepped back. "Would you like another beer before they close the bar?" he asked.

"No. It's late and we're both driving. Richard, would you walk me to my car, please? I have to work early tomorrow and it's time for me to get home." she asked.

She saw his face fall a bit. He nodded in acceptance, both of her answer and, she could tell, of how he thought things were. When they got to her car, she pulled her keys out of her pocket and turned to him. They both started talking at the same time.

"I'm sor — "

"Richard, I — "

They both stopped. He started again quickly. "Randy, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I made a mistake."

She smiled. "Apology accepted."

He gave a jerky nod. "What did you want to say?"

"Well, a couple things," she replied.

"First, I wasn't irritated at what you did, just that you didn't stop when I asked. I'm kind of big on no means no. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Second, it wasn't that you decided to be a little more intimate; you didn't offend me with that. But, in this venue ..." She paused for a second and then continued. "I know we seemed to be alone, but there are folks here I work with and even more folks that I deal with professionally. If it were my husband or someone known to be a steady boyfriend, people might smile if they saw a hand on my ass when we thought we were by ourselves. With someone that, from what they know, is a casual date ... well ... smiles are fine but smirks about Officer Patterson being no better than she should be are a problem when your job requires a certain moral authority. It may not make complete sense to you but it's something that women in a largely male job have to think about. Can you understand that?"

"I'm not an idiot." His voice was a little testy.

She looked at him levelly. "I wasn't implying you were stupid. It was just a figure of speech."

"Okay," he said and looked away.

"Third ..." She put her hand on his arm and waited a few beats until he looked back and raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Here's the way I've always felt things should work. When one person gets up the nerve to ask another person for a date, that second person has to play fair. That means giving a few signals to let the first person know how the date is going. Sound fair?"

"Yes."

"Good. So, seeing as how the evening may have ended a bit ambiguously for you ..." She reached up and took a hold on his shirt collar, pulling his face down for a lingering kiss, her chest pressed against his, her tongue flicking between his lips for just a second before she let go. "I had a great time. I'm busy on Sunday but I'm off Monday and have absolutely no plans. Those are signals in case you really are stupid."

He smiled. "It's a date."

"Oh no!" she said, shaking her head. "It's a date when someone actually asks for a date and is accepted."

He cocked his head. "Really? That's the way you want to go here?" he said, teasing her with her own words.

"What way?"

"Hmmm, well, I guess I'll have to sit by the phone waiting for someone to call me then," he said, putting on a forlorn face.

"Jerk!" she laughed.

"What?" he said.

She opened her car door and then turned back, her face screwed up as if thinking. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me on Monday."

"Why sure, Randy," he said, chuckling. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you like stuff outdoors?"

"Yes."

"Well, I thought we might hike up to Eagle Rock, take a swim, maybe bring a picnic for after?"

"I've never been there but sounds fun. It's a date."

He did wonder about Sunday though.

Late Saturday afternoon he called her. It went to voicemail, so he left a message. "Hi Randy. Just calling to say hello and find out what the time Monday. I'm still at work but things are about to get hectic here — Saturday evenings you know — so I'll give you a buzz tomorrow and we can talk."

When he got home that night, his message light was blinking. "Hey, Richard, it's Randy. I didn't want to bother you at work since you said you'd be busy. Umm, I guess I'll try you again later." She sounded slightly off, like she was nervous about what she had to say.

"Uh oh," he thought.

There was a second message about an hour later. "Okay, umm, I called because I'll be hard to reach tomorrow but, umm, I was thinking about calling you anyway. I'm helping my mom in the morning and, well, the thing is I'm busy the rest of the day because I have a date. He asked me a while ago. He's a nice guy, and it sounded like a lot of fun, so I said I'd go, and so he bought tickets and ... well ... yeah. Anyway, I felt I should tell you that.

"Umm, anyway, if we're still on, I'll pick you up Monday at eleven. Okay? See you then. I'm looking forward to it. I hope you are, too."

"What's bothering you, Richard?" Ellen asked over a cup of coffee when he dropped into the restaurant on Sunday to get the morning's receipts.

"Huh? Nothing."

She just looked at him.

He fiddled with his spoon, considered continuing to deny it, but seven years of marriage meant she could read him pretty well. So, he told her: about his interest in Miranda, their dates, the message the night before. When he was done, he tried to lighten the mood by joking, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I feel like I'm admitting to cheating on you."

It was the closest he had come in three years to breaking the unwritten code of silence he had imposed on the topic. She smiled affectionately. "Don't be a dork!"

He laughed wryly.

She took another sip of coffee. "Okay. She's not dumping you if she's still planning on seeing you Monday, right?"

"I guess."

"One possibility is that she's a sadistic bitch who likes torturing some idiot who's stupid enough to have the hots for her."

"Hardly," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Have you considered the possibility that she's a major coke head and can't handle reality?"

Richard looked at Ellen as if she were mentally deficient. "What is wrong with you?"

"Richard, don't be an idiot. She doesn't want you to think she's going behind your back."

"I don't quite get that. I mean, we've barely gone out. If she wants to date someone else, that's her prerogative. Hell, I probably wouldn't even find out she did it, so how would I think anything?"

He knew this was a bit dishonest since he had been wondering if she was seeing someone else for a while. It must have shown on his face because Ellen picked up on it. "You've thought about it, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

She grimaced. "So, you think she's sending you a message?"

"Do you?"

Ellen thought for a moment. "Well, maybe she wants to establish some ground rules right from the beginning. She likes seeing you but is not looking for a committed relationship with just one guy."

"Yeah, maybe." The idea depressed him more than he would have thought.

"I know that's not your thing, Richard, and, if that's the case, I'm sorry. But have you considered that maybe she isn't the type of person to back out on a guy once she said yes? That's not inconsistent with wanting things to be clean with you."

Richard shrugged. The first option — that she didn't want something exclusive — sounded much more likely given how many Sundays she was busy, and he had become a bit of a pessimist where women were concerned.

Ellen thought back to her parking lot talk and had a much more hopeful opinion.

Monday, Miranda showed up right on time. He hopped in the car and they drove in silence for a few moments. He was happy to see her but felt a little inhibited.

He had spent the evening before being a little cranky with everything, unable to concentrate on a book or watch television. He had finally wandered down to the local watering hole for beer. As the evening got late, he found himself wondering if Mr. Sunday — he had no other name for him — was getting that same kiss at the end of the evening that he had gotten. Once he had even wondered if the goodbye kiss came the next morning.

"How was your weekend?" she asked.

"Okay, I guess. Saturday's always a pain at The Jar. Sunday, I puttered around a bit, met some guys for a beer in the evening but called it a night early. I wasn't really in the mood for anything."

She nodded and they drove in silence for what seemed a while but was probably only fifteen or twenty seconds. He saw her glance sideways at him as if waiting, then she said sweetly, "And how was your weekend, Randy?"

He looked over at her, "Uhh — ," but she kept on talking, holding both sides of the conversation with herself.

"It wasn't the best, Richard. Oh, why not, Miranda? Well, Richard, Saturday I had a long day because of a big pileup out on Rt. 819 involving a tour bus, a flipped tanker truck and a lot of cars. Nobody seriously hurt but lots of ambulances and fire trucks and it backed up things all over. It was all hands on deck and everyone ended up putting in some overtime. Oh, that's too bad, Miranda. Yeah, I was beat when I finally got home."

He tried to interrupt again but she talked right over him.

"On Sunday, I went to a Pirates game in the city and then out to dinner. The game was fun, though I drank a little too much beer, and the dinner was great. But I wasn't able to enjoy the day as much as I should have because I knew that at the end of the evening I was going to tell my date I had a wonderful time, give him a kiss because he had earned it, and then tell him that I didn't think I could see him anymore because I had met someone that I might get serious about."

She turned and looked at him to see his reaction. He had been staring fixedly out of the windshield when she started to talk about her date, but now a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "On second thought," he said, "my Sunday ended much better than I realized."

She smiled to herself.

It took them about an hour to hike up the trail to Eagle Rock. Although the day was beautiful, it was a Monday and they saw no one else around. When they got up to the small pool at the top, Miranda asked, "You've got a suit, right?"

"Wearing it underneath." He touched the nylon shorts he was wearing. They stripped off their shoes and socks, and he stuck a foot in the water, "Whoa! Pretty cold!"

"It's spring fed. You chickening out?"

"Nope!"

She turned her back and peeled off her shorts. Richard admired the tiny yellow bikini bottom that faced him. She glanced over her shoulder, grinned, then jerked her sweatshirt off and leapt into the pool. Richard pulled off his shorts and t-shirt and was quick to follow her.

They paddled around for a bit, splashing each other occasionally, before the cold started to get to them and they pulled themselves back up on the shore. She pulled a large towel out of her backpack and spread it out as a table while Richard pulled cold fried chicken, coleslaw, and some iced tea of out his.

Richard's eyes kept wandering. Her bikini top was fairly small — decent but definitely on the sexy side — and the cold had made her breasts stand at attention. She knew he was looking but pretended not to notice at first, a little embarrassed but also pleased by his obvious appreciation. Then, right when her peripheral vision told her his eyes had dropped down to her chest again, she turned. His eyes snapped up to hers.

"I guess ice-cold water is a guy's friend," she said with a quick flick of her eyes down toward her still-prominent nipples.