I would like to say first that I appreciate your comments on my first version of this story. They helped me focus on a few things that needed attention which encouraged me to write this revised edition.
If you have read the previous version, please read this one. I would like to know your take in a sort of "before and after" snapshot on whether the story flows better or not.
By all means, keep the comments coming. Also, if you’d like, please send me a private message to discuss the story structure in more depth. I am more than receptive to constructive criticism.
My marriage wasn't much of one. It felt more like a partnership than a marriage. I was on the road a lot to make ends meet while my wife worked part time, being the homemaker and raising our daughter. Needless to say, we both were pretty miserable without being able to spend much time together.
Then the unthinkable happened. While traveling through Kansas toward a South Carolina destination, I got a call from my sister that no sister should have to make. My wife and daughter perished in a car wreck caused by a drunk driver. I thought I was living a lonely life before but now....well, needless to say I was now living a nightmare.
I was near the company’s terminal and hauled the load into the yard to drop the trailer and catch the earliest flight home I could. It was the longest, most nerve wracking and depressing day of my life.
After the funeral and a couple of weeks off to take care of the details and such, I reluctantly flew back to pick up my life as a driver. The holidays during the first year are the most depressing. They brought back the fact my family wasn’t there to enjoy those good times with me anymore and the pain reined me in to a near catatonic state. When I would go back to the house and try to take a break from the road, it always felt empty and lifeless. It was hard to stay more than a couple of days as the memories haunted me. Even after nearly a year and three months had passed, I couldn’t stand to go back any longer. The pain and depression became far too great to bear. So on my last home-time I kept a few mementos’, cleaned up the place and hired a realtor to sell it. I told him to take whatever offer would pay it off and any fees and taxes owed. I didn’t care about the money as it probably would be another reminder of what I’d lost. Their lives were priceless and I couldn’t handle having profited from the sale of the house. The house sold in three days.
Now a little more than a year later I’m dealing with the death of my last living grandparent. It wasn't as much of a shock since she was ill for a long time. It was more of a relief than anything else that she was no longer suffering. When Aunt Jean called to give me the news I was in North Dakota heading to Texas. I wasn't able to make the funeral and really couldn’t handle much beyond driving. I had lost my parents as did my wife in one of the worst tornado outbreaks in recorded history before our daughter was born. There seemed to be no end to the bad news. At 46, I felt the loneliest person in the world with nothing to show for the life’s experiences, accomplishments, hopes and dreams I once had.
When Grandma was first becoming ill, I started conversing with Aunt Jean more often after her first couple of emails and a phone call just to see how I was doing. I hadn’t kept in touch since visiting during Christmas one year a few years ago. But since those first conversations and reconnecting, we kept in touch through email. I always enjoyed talking with her when we happened to have the time. I loved her southern accented voice and couldn’t get enough so I started calling more often. Many of our conversations centered on the good and not so good things that were going on in our lives. After a couple of months, she started suggesting I come and see Grandma at least once more. I thought that might be a good idea since I had no family of my own anymore and might be the last time I did get to see her. So I scheduled time off to spend with them during July. Aunt Jean was happy I would be coming and we started talking about old times growing up when I visited as a child during Independence Day celebrations.
Aunt Jean had always been my favorite out of the two Aunts I had. She is the last of her immediate family on my dad’s side. As I said, my dad had died. He had a younger brother by two years but died of cancer just before his 15th birthday when Aunt Jean was 11. She was the baby of the family and was only fourteen years old when I was born. Now she was alone. Her kids were living their own lives half way across the country and only occasionally writing or calling.
A month or so ago in one of our conversations, Aunt Jean said the house she was building was just getting the final touches and asked if I could come see her so she could show me around. “Over the river and through the woods…” you might say from where Grandma’s house was. You see, she was able to build the house when Grandma was pronounced incompetent to manage her own affairs. Her Living Will was enacted by the attorney and power of attorney was handed over to Aunt Jean. One statement in the Will said the attorney was to turn over a safe deposit box she hadn’t known existed. The contents of the box were several documents relating to investments and land nobody knew about and were to be dispersed to the living descendants. As I said before, Aunt Jean was the last and she wound up with all of it. To her astonishment, buried in the documents was a trust set up over sixty years previous following the war by her parents. Grandpa’s military retirement pay fed the trust automatically and any interest gained was rolled back into the trust if no interest withdrawals were made within thirty days of the disbursement. For more than sixty years, this trust had been building on itself to take care of her and her two brothers should anything happen to their parents. Now she discovered it all went to her and she found herself thrust into a situation of wealth that changed her life overnight. She could care for Grandma with the best caregivers without worry! In addition to caring for Grandma, Aunt Jean’s CPA certification and training became invaluable in actively managing the estate and rich investment portfolios she suddenly found herself with. She paid off the debts and liquidated the stale investments and assets. She also reconfigured the trust to build a new self-sustainment trust for her to live off of using current economic models to eventually Will off to her kids, cousins and other extended family members as well as charities and medical research foundations. All told, she was very well off now and lacked for nothing. Almost.
The one thing that I remember very clearly about her was that she always seemed bubbly and happy no matter the situation. I had a crush on her for the longest time growing up. She was only five feet tall, very dark brown hair that she always kept midway down her back. She had cut it to a little longer than shoulder length by the time of the Christmas visit I mentioned. Getting back in touch with her and getting to know her as an adult has been nice. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
Though Aunt Jean was petite and only five feet tall, she sported an attractive 33-23-34 figure with a large B or small C cup bust and might have weighed all of 100 pounds soaking wet. That was how I remembered her when I was much younger. The few times I had visited in my teen years she had always looked good and we had fun driving around in her old Porsche 914 while we blasted down the back roads! In reminiscing about her, I now realize she might very well have been the first woman I fell in love with.
Today, I have those fond memories and decided to take her up on her offer of a grand tour of the new place. I myself have had a couple of years driving my truck without many expenses beyond keeping the truck maintained and a small mortgage I’ll pay off in about thirteen years. I’d saved enough to put money down on a few acres of land and put a house on it near Wilson, NC. I can park my rig on my land and could make an easy trip to the Outer Banks or up to the mountains when I wanted. I spent a lot of time emailing, texting and talking with Aunt Jean all this time and said I would be down to see her. When I got home I didn’t even go into the house. Instead, I grabbed my pre-packed suitcase that I put together while on the road, climbed down out of the truck, hopped into my Jeep and pointed the nose South toward Georgia.
I honked the horn enthusiastically when I drove up into Aunt Jean’s driveway. She came running out to meet me, ecstatic that I could make it. I was glad she seemed to have stayed in good shape all things considered. I still had this nagging expectation she should be walking slow and less mobile for some reason. As soon as we embraced, she broke down into sobs thanking me for coming. She felt so alone having to take care of Grandma before she passed away. After several minutes of hugging and comforting each other, we went inside her new house to talk about how things are going. She fixed us some coffee and we talked about the stuff in storage that was left to be shipped to living relatives based on the Will. At least those that could be found still living. It was a slow process with such a large extended family. We talked for hours with good memories and bad coming back to us about growing up. We talked about the few times I visited during the early summer for Independence Day celebrations when I was little. I remember picnics, watermelon, peach tea and sneaking sips of Mint Juleps Grandma always had available for the grown-ups while us kids got plain old lemonade. Before we knew it, it had grown dark outside and neither of us had anything to eat since breakfast.
"Would you want Italian or Mexican tonight?" She asked in her soothing southern accent I so loved.
"Italian. I don't think my stomach will handle that kind of spice tonight." I replied grimacing.
"Get your boots on and let's go then! I'll be just a few minutes." She said cheerily. "Let's take your Jeep. I haven't had a ride in one of those yet."
“Are you sure Aunt Jean? It’s not the smoothest ride you know.” I said.
“I can handle it.” She winked and went upstairs to her bedroom to change.
I went to my room and changed into an upper-casual set of clothes. Kaki brown trousers, dark green button-down front dress shirt and black dress cowboy boots. After brushing my hair I waited for her in the foyer. Her “few minutes” accounted for thirty as I checked my watch with a grumbling stomach for the hundredth time. I heard a door close then footsteps start descending the stairs a moment later and when I looked up, the thirty minutes were well worth it.
The room seemed to light up and my eyes widened as she took each step in an elegant and very feminine decent down the staircase. She was wearing a white casual dress with a black belt and black three inch spike high heeled shoes. The dress extended to just below the knee and sported a shoulder baring ruffle which hid sleeve loops to prevent them from sliding up onto her shoulders. She had her hair down and was adorned with a white hair band over the top of her head similar to those from the sixties. Coupled with her amazing green eyes she looked to be in her mid-thirties. The look was classic demure elegance. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked straight at me and smiled knowingly. She knew she had that effect on men even if she refused to acknowledge her own good looks. She came up to me and with a slender finger, gently lifted my chin to close my mouth. I swallowed a hard dry lump. She looked fantastic and I then remembered why I had such a crush on her waaaaay back when. Apparently, I still did.
"I take it you like my dress?" she asked as she twirled around for me to see the whole thing smiling happily. Her skirt flared out and I could see the white lace garters on her nude colored stockings high up on her thighs raising my temperature considerably. I thought she had good looking legs but I never suspected she wore stockings! I never thought she needed them. Then I simply nodded in answer to her question as anything I would try to have said would either come out cracking like a puberty teen or a croak. She held out a hand, palm down and like a gentleman, I took on the chivalrous role she initiated and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated slightly as I now suspect she saw mine were. With her in hand I guided her through the door to the Jeep, entranced.
Southern nights in Georgia can be quite uncomfortable. Tonight wasn’t one of those hot steamy nights. Instead it was quite pleasant. We still needed the air conditioning but didn’t need it going full tilt. She directed me on where to turn to get to the restaurant and in no time we were pulling up to a very nice one. I parked up close to the building as I could so she wouldn’t have to walk in those high heels which I’m sure she didn’t wear but on rare occasions. I got out and hurriedly moved around to open her door before she opened it. I needn’t have worried. She sat there, a proper lady waiting patiently. I opened the door and held out my hand. She took it, swung her legs over and slid out landing on her feet expertly without getting her dress caught on anything as if she’d done it all her life. She told me that while she was married, her husband always had a full-sized pick-up with large tires. Wherever they went, it was in his truck. She only drove her car when he wasn’t going anywhere with her. This gave her a lot of practice to perfect her ingress and egress technique with a large vehicle.
“I remember that huge Jeep your dad had. It was so high up I was always afraid I’d fall out and eat the ground and told him he needs to install an automatic ladder.” She said. We laughed at that. My Dad had this ‘77 Cherokee Chief with the big tires and lift kit. It was a doozie of a step. Any woman in a dress or skirt would have to hike it up pretty high to manage getting in or out of it. She commented that she liked this one better as it didn’t try to catch her dress and make it ride up. I gave a half-smile wondering why she would comment on that. Upon entering the restaurant, we approached the Maître d’s desk. Looking first at Aunt Jean then me he asked for our names. I gave him mine and he found it on the reservation list and came around from behind his desk and extended a hand. I took it and returned the handshake.
“It is a pleasure to have you Mr. Logan and your lovely wife dine with us tonight. “ He said with a slight European accent and reached for Aunt Jean’s right hand. Gently holding her hand by her fingers, he bowed to her at the hip and kissed the back of her hand. My eyebrows launched upward then I frowned and she quickly turned her head and gave me a barely perceptible shake of her head. When the Maître d’ had risen from his bow, she was smiling again at him.
“This way to your table please.” The Maître d’ said and turned to stride purposefully into the dining rooms with a wine list in hand. I offered my arm to Aunt Jean again and I led the way following in the Maître d’s wake.
On the way to our booth, I caught a few of the men glancing at my aunt. It was fairly easy to tell who was admiring and who was leering. I reacted to the leering in a typical male fashion. My grip on Aunt Jean’s arm tightened slightly as my six foot two inch frame tensed as if readying for an attack. As I made eye contact with the one who was truly leering he undoubtedly saw my threatening expression and understood the meaning pretty clearly by looking at anything but Aunt Jean.
Aunt Jean whispered something I couldn’t process right away in my state of mind at the time. I did relax however, but only a little until we were seated in a mostly unoccupied section of the dining area. A wall separated this room from the main dining area. Heavy looking velvet draperies crossed the open doorway blocking the view and nearly all of the sound from that part of the restaurant. As we took our seats in a cozy booth, I glanced around and took notice that this room was much quieter. Taking in the furnishings with another quick glance I saw rich looking carpet covering the floor as well as velvet draperies on the walls. These were the primary reasons for the subdued sound. Our little semi-round privacy booth was also decorated with similar looking drapes and other materials that trapped noise that also looked to be high class. Sound did not carry in here very well at all so patrons could have comfortable conversations without being overheard.
“My name is Morgan. If I may be of any further assistance, please notify Stephan, your waiter.” He said while handing me the wine list. Morgan bowed again, turned and headed back to the front desk. I started to open my mouth but Aunt Jean was quicker.
“I’m moving over here so I can see the wine list too.” She said as she scooted around to my side of the booth. Still confused about Morgan’s welcoming statement, I dumbly gave over for her to hold the other half of the wine list.
“What will you be having tonight? Beef, chicken, fish or pork?” she asked me. My mind dwelled on Morgan’s statement. When I didn’t respond she asked again.
“Oh. Sorry Aunt Jean.” I said apologetically. “Ummmm, I think I’ll have beef lasagne with meat sauce. I prefer white wine but I’ll have a glass of Zinfandel to keep it proper. I don’t know much about wine I do know red goes with meat dishes and white with fish. Beyond that, I know what my taste buds tell me.” I said.
“A sensible answer.” She said then looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “I think I’ll have the spinach lasagne with a Pinot Noir.” She said as she leaned a little further over toward me. I was just about to ask her about Morgan’s welcome when our waiter showed up.
“Good evening. I am Stephan and I will be your waiter tonight.” He said. “May I start you off with your wine order perhaps?”
I spoke up and gave him our wine choice as well as our meal choice. Stephan thanked us for our orders telling us he would be back with the salads and wine. He then turned and left to take our choice to the kitchen. Again I was just about to ask the question when Aunt Jean spoke up first again.
“I know you’re confused about Morgan’s apparent mistake in assuming I’m your wife.” She said looking me straight in the eye. “I didn’t mean for that to happen exactly even though I felt a little pride at having you with me. As you figured out, I used your name when I made the reservations. A gentleman’s name is always used when a lady accompanies him. It’s one of those chivalrous or ‘Emily Post’ rules I think. Anyway, I wanted to be treated like a lady tonight and I think you like playing the Gentleman.“ she said and as I opened my mouth to attempt to voice another question, she put a finger on my lips to silence me.
“I know it seems odd I would want that impression. I’m fully aware that even though we are related, we are also only 14 years apart in age. At our ages, people see two adults and not an Aunt with her nephew. So I thought it might be fun to assume the role of a couple spending an evening out. Lord knows I wish I could have a companion again who could be a gentleman at times.” She said softly and looked down at the table not focusing on it.
“I must admit Aunt Jean I don’t really know what to say. I guess maybe I’m a bit shocked. I didn’t know you were so depressed about things. I mean, I always thought of you as happy no matter what. You you look great and you seemed happy until now.” I said. Stephan returned with our wine and salads and left again. I continued once he was out of sight.
“I know you’re sixty but you look better than any thirty-something I know. I can’t imagine you would have any trouble getting dates or finding someone near your age you can be happy with.”
She smiled, a little sadly then said, “I may look as young as you think you see me and I feel much younger than I am at times. Lately I just don’t feel that young anymore. The men about my age I meet have something telltale about their age and health. Sometimes I feel like a real loner. I missed a good amount of my life trying to make my marriage work and in the end it failed. I don’t know if there are any men out there my age willing to invest the rest of their lives with me that still have vitality and can keep up with my needs. If there are, they certainly don’t live in this town or a hundred miles of it!”
“So...” I cut off as she shook her head slowly.
“I’m too old to be making the bar scene or using those online dating sites. I’m sixty and I feel every bit of it at times. I would have to move somewhere else and I don’t feel like starting my life over. Oh I’ll probably start traveling around different parts of the world at some point but it won’t be to find a mate. I can’t have children any more and I really don’t want the responsibility of one. I did the ‘mother’ thing and they don’t write or call hardly. So why look for a mate? That part of my life is over. I need companionship. Someone I can share my life with under a different set of expectations.” She said. She started eating her salad again and paused with her fork half way to her mouth and sighed saying “I wish I could go back and fix my life sometimes.”
I thought of my family and wishing the same thing. I looked at the wedding band I still wore. It pained me at times to wear it but seemed more painful somehow to try to put it away. It was then I noticed Aunt Jean was wearing her diamond wedding ring and I inquired about it.
She looked at her left hand and gave a half smile. “I guess I just wanted to feel like I had someone I could relate to and just pretend a little that we were a happy couple out on the town. But…” she trailed off.
“But what?” I asked.
“Oh nothing. I’m just an old woman trying to hold off the feeling that she’s the last of her generation. After my divorce I changed my name back to my maiden name and, well, I thought since I was a ‘Logan’ again…” she trailed off. “Listen Ben, I didn’t really mean to bring this up and stir up hurt feelings. I’m sorry.” She said and started to remove her ring. I reached over and held her hand in both of mine. She stilled and stared at my hands for a bit then looked into my eyes. My eyes were glistening with the sting of tears beginning to form. Fearing what she’d done, hers did too and she froze. I could see a fearful look in those beautiful green eyes and wanted to do something to allay those fears. I did the only thing I could think of and put an arm around her and pull her closer. We both hurt inside and having a nice evening out really wouldn’t hurt anything. We sat there quietly for a few minutes holding hands with my arm around her.
Several minutes went by and Stephan appeared with more wine and our main course. He filled each glass with our choices and was about to put the bottles on the cart when I stopped him. I asked if he would just leave them and to please add them to my bill. Stephan smiled and left the wine with us. Aunt Jean was curious now.
“Why?” she asked simply.
“We both have a lot of memories that hurt. This is the elegant way to dissolve some of them. Afterwards, we can either paint the town red or stock up on the way home. Much can disappear in this universal solvent my dear lady. Things seem to get better with the partaking of the more prodigiously potent poisons found elsewhere in this land of southern delights.” I said. She laughed softly as her face lit up in surprise.
“You really mean we should get plastered tonight?” she said.
“I will make it my priority to take extreme latitude against the lower forms of emotional disposition. When it comes to this magic solvent, the more exotic forms of spirits consumed, the better one feels about the future. Until the next morning of course.” I declared raising my glass. Then I quietly said “A toast to a most magnificent celebration of being the only two lonely people on the planet tonight to benefit from various alcoholic concoctions.”
Grinning she raised her glass and said, “To an everlasting companionship. May we never feel lonely when we’re together.” I raised an eyebrow then our glasses clinked making a tiny musical note. We downed our glassfuls in large gulps and I wondered about her use of the word, ‘companionship’.
Upon finishing our meals, we were both a little tipsy from the wine consumed prior to putting our main course away and thought it best to save some of the night for those exotic spirits elsewhere. I had the presence of mind to keep from driving the Wrangler for fear of getting lost or arrested or perhaps both. After paying the check, we went to Morgan and asked for a cab. Morgan did so immediately then returned his attention to us. I handed him the keys to my Jeep with a twenty and told him it would be retrieved tomorrow. He took them gladly and placed them in his coat pocket with the twenty dollar bill.
“I appreciate your trust Mr. Logan. It will be in fine hands. I will have the keys put in the safe until you return for them tomorrow. I trust your stay with us was enjoyable?” Morgan said looking at each of us. We both nodded and smiled. “And how was Mrs. Logan’s meal?”
“It was truly wonderful and my husband knows more about wines than he let on. That Pinot Noir was excellent.” She said taking my arm. I watched her lips move elegantly to form the words. I felt hypnotized by them. I missed the “husband” part completely and looked at Morgan with a smile on my face. Morgan looked to me expectantly without speaking. I replied to his unspoken question.
“I think I had the best lasagne I have ever tasted. I’ll have to return and try another dish. Thank you for a wonderful meal Morgan.” I said. Aunt Jean just started moving towards the door as I started to frown a little. It was obvious to her I had just caught up with her use of the word ‘husband’ when I felt her hand in mine again as she turned us toward the door while holding my arm as if I was leading. Morgan bade us a good evening and turned to the next guests on the list to be called as the entryway was now filled with restaurant patrons.
As we passed through the doors to the warm Georgia evening, the night air seemed to have a calming effect. We sat silently on a bench with her head gently resting on my left shoulder, her arm entwined with mine. A few minutes passed and she crossed her left leg over her right and started bouncing her left foot up and down slightly. I watched and became hypnotized by the sight of that dainty foot just bouncing. The lean but soft look of her foot was sexy as were the curves of her calve. My mind started to wander into forbidden territory when the cab rolled up. In a smooth motion, she uncrossed her legs and stood pulling me up with her. Her grip was amazing and I got a glimpse of the muscle tone in her left arm. It crossed my mind that she had said she worked out too. We piled into the back of the cab as Aunt Jean told the driver to head to the nearest classy bar that had a live band and a blue star on the sign. The driver nodded his head and headed across town.
After we arrived, I paid the cover fee and we headed straight for any corner table or booth well back from the stage we could find. When we found one, a waitress appeared and patiently waited to take our orders. Aunt Jean ordered a Bloody Mary and I, a Captains Rum and Coke. She sat next to me and we listened to the live music onstage in the far end of the room. It wasn’t loud as bands went but loud enough and it sounded good. The waitress returned with our drinks then promptly left. We sat there taking sips and watching the band play some pumped up jazz while a few people danced.
After half of her drink was consumed, she leaned over into me. I settled back and let her get comfortable. The waitress came back to check on us and we both ordered Margaritas for our next round.
“You’re the tropical sort tonight.” She said referring to my choice of drinks.
I laughed. “I guess I need to feel like a pirate captain to make this round the world voyage.” I said. I looked around at the decorum. It was filled with all kinds of artifacts from various parts of the world. Some tropical island memorabilia adorned part of one wall while items relating to the history of flying took up most of another. The bar over the far right of the room looked kind of like a cabana. The whole place had hard wood flooring, teak and oak furniture with a mixture of other stained and painted trim and decoration.
“I like this place Aunt Jean. You have excellent taste as usual. I haven’t been in a place even close to this style.” I said. She looked up at me and smiled. She then reached up behind my head and pulled my head closer to hers and kissed me on the lips. Not one of those family relations type kisses but a short albeit deeper kiss. My mind seemed to have gone totally blank at that moment. As I started to kiss her back, she pulled away and held my gaze.
“I think you’re too old to call me Aunt Jean anymore. Call me Jean from now on. Just Jean.” She said. I cocked an eyebrow as if to question what I heard. She smiled and nodded. I nodded with her.
“I’m glad you like it Ben.” She said nudging the subject back to my original comment. I just sat there trying to figure her out through the muzziness of the drinks. She nestled into me further and I could swear I heard or rather felt her sigh. A few moments later I felt one of her hands on my thigh and give a gentle squeeze. I was muzzy from drink and it took a moment to process what was happening. Reactively or by instinct, I didn’t know what was what at this point, my right arm slid around her slender waist and gently rubbed her stomach through the fabric of her dress with my hand. Her hand went to stroking my thigh and an all too familiar ache began to stir down there.
The music changed and she suddenly sat up, turned toward me with a surprised look on her face and finally a big grin. In another flowing motion to leave the booth she took my hand and pulled me up with her. I went with it and she headed for the dance floor with me in tow. Not caring now about what transpired in the booth, I hit the dance floor and we had a blast just cutting loose. After a long medley of “swing” songs, we left the floor and got back to our booth laughing and hanging onto one another.
“Oh my Gawd! I haven’t had so much fun in forever!” she said breathless. I realized my muzzy feeling seemed to have diminished some as most of my Margarita was still intact. We gulped down what was left. The waitress returned for another order round and we both stuck with a Margarita for each of us.
I was curious about her behavior now. Here she was sixty going on twenty when I had a sudden anxious moment as the thought hit me that she might have health problems I wasn’t aware of. The thought of her just dropping dead of a heart attack or stroke sobered me up considerably from the adrenalin rush. After some consideration that she’d taken care of herself with exercise and a healthy diet I allowed that she was most likely in better shape than I was.
She turned and kissed me on the lips again but held it longer this time. I kissed back. She pulled away and looked into my eyes in contemplation. I gave her a wry smile and her lips parted slightly. It was time to get to know Jean Beaumonte Logan, the woman. Before she could react, I kissed her with one of those long, deep penetrating kisses that make some women swoon. When our lips parted she spoke my name in a breathless hush. She didn’t swoon exactly but was entranced as I pulled her close and waved for our waitress.
“Yes sir?” the waitress said.
“Do you have Champagne here?” I asked.
“Yes. Would you like two glasses instead of the Margarita order?” she asked.
“No. I think we’ll take the Margarita’s now and two bottles of champagne to check out with.” I said.
The waitress smiled happily, turned and headed to fill the order looking back at us only once. Jean looked up at me.
“Champagne! What’s the occasion or should I ask?” Jean said.
“We are going home to really toast the end of our miserable lonely lives for better tomorrows.” I said.
“Oh? And how do you propose to end our miserable lonely lives? Have you figured out something I haven’t?” she said in a mock serious tone. I smiled and kissed her nose. I had taken what she had seemed to initiate and decided to fulfill her desire for companionship. I didn’t want to pretend we were a couple. I wanted to be with her as a couple. I thought about the feelings I had for her when I had a crush and wanted to indulge those feelings. The slight muzzy feeling was returning as the adrenaline rush faded rapidly allowing me to drop my guard some and see through social barriers and viewed us as simply two people having needs. She was right. I was old enough. Without any living next-of-kin, there wasn’t any real need to call her by her title anymore. Add to that she kissed wonderfully warmly, soft, sweet and loving. I wanted more.
“I intend to finish what you started and I believe you’ll enjoy it.” I said. She hit me with insistent questions and I ignored them. She even thumped her fist on my chest, unconvincingly, in an attempt to get me to talk.
The waitress returned with our drinks, two bottles of champagne and the check. We both gulped down the Margarita’s as quick as we could without freezing our brains, to no avail. I motioned for our waitress again. When she came back to the booth, I paid the bill and tipped her then asked if she would mind calling us a cab too and tipped her a ten for her trouble. She grinned and went off to call for a cab. About ten minutes later a cab did show up. I helped Jean in and climbed in myself. Jean gave the cab driver the address.
Throughout the first part of the ride she sat quietly but occasionally bit her bottom lip. I could see the wheels were turning and trying to work out what I had said. She looked at me several times with expressions of curiosity, concern and finally worry. I just sat there and held her hand. Figuring the worried look was the result of her coming to some sort of conclusion, I leaned over and kissed her gently. Her eyes closed and she leaned into me. We kissed slowly and gently most of the ride which was longer as we were on the opposite side of town from her place.
Our passions were covered but smoldering though as both of us were still testing the waters yet becoming more accepting. Just before we reached the house I started to pull away and she went with me to keep our lips together until she couldn’t lean any further. I turned and stared ahead as I leaned on the door but in my peripheral vision, I could tell she was staring at me and then I felt a hand on my chest. I turned my head and smiled a gentle caring one looking into her eyes. Hers were soft and seemed to sparkle as her smile reached them with yet another conclusion reached.
Just then the cab bumped over the speed bump at the gate entrance to the driveway of her house. The spell now broken, she sat upright and fumbled in her purse to find the remote for the gate. Once through, she folded her hands in her lap as the cab followed the curving driveway up to the house a few hundred yards from the road. I paid the driver, got out and went around to her side. Setting the champagne bottles down in the grass next to the paving I opened the door, held out my hand and helped her out. Closing the door the driver almost immediately took off not bothering to make sure we were clear of the car to earn his next fare. I instinctively grabbed Jean around her waist and pulled her clear as I was sure her feet would have been run over had I not done so. I shook my fist at the driver and noticed Jean was holding to me and looking up at me.
“Thank you Ben.” She said in a breathy voice. I didn’t relinquish my hold on her waist as I watched to make sure the cab driver didn’t hit anything in his rush to leave the circular drive. When he disappeared around the first curve a few seconds later, I looked down at Jean and she was still staring me in the eyes. Her eyes wore a softer more sleepy seductive look now.
“Shall we go inside?” I asked. She shook her head. I tilted my head. “Where then?”
“To the pool.” She said and began to lead off letting her arm fall from around my waist. I let her go and knelt to pick up the champagne bottles. I turned my head to see which way she was heading and was entranced as my eyes followed her. She walked with a sway to her hips I’ve only seen in classy elegant old movies. It was a seductive rather than a regular hip-swinging style of walk. It was amazing to watch. Before I knew it she turned her head and looked back at me smiling as her hand extended back and her finger worked in a very unmistakable ‘Come hither’ gesture.
My mind was thinking I should be coming in more ways than one after seeing her walk like that! I swallowed hard knowing what I was doing but the fact that she was perpetuating and encouraging it was incredibly arousing. I stood and caught up with her in a few strides. My mind knew what we were about to engage in as the inhibited barriers warred with my primal needs. Elsewhere, my cock was tingling with that painful ache of awakening reaction to that primal need. I’ve heard alcohol inhibits a man’s ability to have an erection. I’ve also heard that men with strong vitality aren’t affected as easily. I was either part of the latter group or I hadn’t consumed enough to reach that point yet. I held out my arm to her and she took it and hugged it as we walked to the gate in a wall that opened to the back yard. As we got closer I noticed the wall was getting taller. Much taller. Standing at the gate I figured the fence to be twelve feet high. This was no ordinary privacy fence.
She punched in a key-code on the keypad and the lock clicked or rather clunked. I pulled the door open and was surprised at its weight. It felt heavy but moved easily on its balanced hinges and let her through. I then pulled the door closed behind me gently closing it so it wouldn’t slam shut. I needn’t have bothered. It had dampers to prevent such. The yard was lit up with accent lighting low to the ground and giving me the impression of looking out from a high hill and seeing the lights of a small town in the distance. The area seemed very large and surrounded by trees, bushes and an assortment of flower beds. She loved gardening and it showed in the little light there was. There were flowers everywhere all closed up for the night. I also noticed that the area felt totally secluded and with the new moon, was absolutely dark where the light couldn’t reach.
“Wow!" I exclaimed. "It seems like we’re out in the middle of nowhere.” I remarked looking up to see the stars blazing overhead.
“I know.” She chuckled. “The nearest house is actually more than three quarters of a mile away and I own that one too. It’s a cottage style built in the early 1900’s near a large stream. I built this one in the middle of the property so I could have the peace and quiet I couldn’t have in the old place. The cottage is too close to a neighbor for my comfort so I only go there to check on it in the ATV now and then. Sometimes I’ll ride Gypsy down just to give her a little excersize.” She said.
“Gypsy? Who’s that?” I asked.
“Gypsy’s my Tennessee Walker. I keep her in the pasture to the north. I’ve got a two stall barn down there.” She said.
“Really? I didn’t know you still rode. That’s great!. I don’t remember the last time I rode a horse. You said you wanted peach and quiet? Sounds like you have it.” I said.
“True. But now that I have it, I feel more isolated in more ways than one. But it is home and I do love gardening. With the inheritance, I can create any garden I want now.” She said.
I looked down at the ground and a few memories of Grandma’s old place flashed through my mind. “Yeah. I never knew how well off she was until you and I talked about it. This is the land she had in the Will?” I said.
“Uh huh. I didn’t know she had it. Maybe your dad would have as he was the oldest but he never said anything to me. She’d forgotten about it and the trust. I guess it was her Alzheimer’s. The attorney couldn’t tell us about it until she was declared incompetent. The taxes were paid automatically through the law firm from the trust along with the other parcels she owned. It turns out all this land was handed down for generations to supply the cotton mills Great Grandfather Logan built. So much of it looks to have been cleared except this hill. According to the documents,” she continued, “the family supposedly owned everything within sight of this hill back in the 1740’s. It totaled into the tens of thousands of acres but they had some obscure stipulations on owning the land until the revolution of 1776. It seemed that a part of anything earned, farmed or manufactured on the land was to be sent to England as a payment of some kind. After the revolution, the land was deeded to the family in 1780. More land was cleared for farming as more slaves were brought in. When they discovered how well cotton grew here, the mills were built. For two hundred and eleven years our family’s land produced some of the best cotton ever grown before the mills closed in nineteen ninety nine.” She sounded awed, inspired and amazed as the family pride in her voice was apparent.
“I built the house on the highest point of the largest piece of the land left. I think the land might have been used like a savings account when things got bad too. This was the last of the land they kept as the single largest property. All of the smaller pieces were sold off over the years on the outskirts to sustain the family when the production demands of the mills went down. There were several smaller parcels all around here. I checked them all out and none seemed big enough for a sub-division of homes so I’ve been selling those off in smaller parcels for single home sales.”
“And you built your dream home where you wanted and can live peacefully without guilt.” I interrupted.
“I am a CPA you know. That’s my stock and trade after all.”
Anyone who can be that good at managing other people’s money and still be responsible with their own deserves a little something for themselves. Another reason to celebrate!” I said hoisting the bottles in the air.
She smiled, giggled and clapped her hands bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like an excited little girl. “Let’s start now!” she exclaimed. She bent down holding on to me and pulled off her high heels. Taking them in hand she ran through the grass down the slope toward a stone staircase leading up to the pool rather than take the paved path leading to the corner of the house. It was wonderful to see that happy and bubbly side of her again. I could only hope that what we were tentatively engaging in wouldn’t change that.
I looked over to my left as I approached the stairway and saw a large sliding glass door near the corner of the house and a regular door about thirty or forty feet further to the right of that. The back of the house was built into the hill so the lowest level was a semi-basement with the doors leading to the back yard area. A walkway led from there back up toward the walled gate on the other side of some bushes. Looking at the back of the house at this level, the pool to my right towered over me with the stairs only thirty or so feet away. The overhang and posts supported the patio deck on this end of the house and gave me the impression it was an apartment. I continued on and climbed the stone stair steps cut into the side of the concrete retaining wall from the back yard and stood in the huge patio area in awe. The pool was a large sized one that seemed to extend to the other end of the house. If true, this pool would be nearly a hundred feet in length and sixty in width.
I walked over to the edge and looked down into the yard. The slope led down into a level area with the large trees, bushes and such. The pool seemed to have been built with concrete retaining walls covered over with natural ground covering giving the illusion of a slope. I turned around and started back toward the stairs when the main flood lights came on and flooded the area with a harsh bluish white light. Squinting, I couldn’t make out anything spots. Just as I was starting to get accustomed to it, they went out. Night vision completely lost now I could hear some shuffling or rustling of something near the house. I headed to where I glimpsed Jean by a pair of large sliding glass doors across the patio on this level. I called out to Jean and received no answer.
The spots in my vision remained for another minute while my eyes adjusted again to the dark. The low accent lighting was still on around the pool only now the pool’s underwater lights glowed. I was still looking around the patio looking for Jean and absorbing the elegance of the patio when I heard soft padding footsteps in quick succession. I saw her running toward the pool in my periphery and snapped my head in that direction in time to catch her leap up as graceful as a deer and dive into the pool. In that instant, I realized she wasn’t wearing her dress. That explained the rustling sounds. The low lighting kept her pretty well hidden as did my still recovering night vision.
The splash sound she made was small as she swam daily and enjoyed diving that started in high school. She won a few championships both at the county and state levels but declined invitations to try out for Olympic competition. I looked into the pool. She was swimming back toward me and in the soft glow of the pool lights, I couldn’t see that she was wearing anything. My heart started pounding in my chest and my breathing was changing as my own anticipation rose. She got to the edge of the pool and rose up to lay her arms over the edge to prop herself up but not allowing any more of her to be seen.
“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to offer up some of that champagne?” she asked in a playful tone. I came to my senses and now with my night vision restored, found and headed over to the wet bar near the glass doors. I searched for and found two glasses. I also found a wine chiller under the counter and put one of the bottles in. I looked over to her and she had moved over to this side of the pool still with her arms up on the edge of the pool looking at me. I calmed myself a little before I spoke.
“It will take a few minutes to chill the bubbly. They got a bit warm.” I said.
“There’s some beer and coolers in the fridge back behind you. If you would please, bring me a cooler?” she said.
I turned and opened the door to the refrigerator and took two coolers out, opened them and walked over to where she was and handed her one. She looked up at me and smiled a thank you and I took a seat at the nearest table. I slammed mine down. My mind was racing and things had gotten a little too clear. I wanted that muzzy feeling again.
“Why don’t you come on in. The water’s fine.” She said with a coquettish smile. I just looked at her in wonderment.
‘This woman seems to want you like you want her.’ I thought to myself.
“C’mon!” she said. “Go for it!” I didn’t move. “Don’t make me come over there.” She said in a mock stern tone. I wished she would.
I knew she was referring to my reluctance to get into the pool but my mind twisted it into an invitation to show my prowess. Then I smiled as I realized that she had already taken care of that. I had nothing to prove. Her actions toward me proved that already. She couldn’t have any children and neither of us wanted to start our lives over from the beginning. On top of that we’re both single and are strongly attracted to each other. She is beautiful in my eyes and I wanted to do more for her than just rut in bed with her. I wanted to care about and for her. I asked myself if I wanted to be cared for by her and would she accept me caring for her? That seemed to cause me a slight hesitation before answering those thoughts. There it was. Would I allow us to care for each other intimately? I looked over to her again. She smiled that loving smile after finishing her cooler. ‘How could I not care and love and nurture this woman?’ I thought to myself. I nodded to myself after a moment. I could. Would she? After another few moments looking at her and considering, I made up my mind. She is a woman with needs and wants. I’m a man with needs and wants. To hell with society!
So I stood up and began removing my clothes. When I finished undressing I stood at the edge of the pool naked. I heard a small gasp and she caught her breath. I turned and looked at her and saw her surprised look with a hand to her mouth. It was too dark to tell where she was looking but it didn’t take much to figure out her head wasn’t tilted up toward my face. Her expression was an answer. To which question though? I dove into the pool knowing she was following with her gaze.
I swam to the far end, hit the wall and pushed off reversing direction and swam toward her. Under water I could see that she wasn’t standing up but rather she kept herself submerged up to her neck. She still wore her stockings with the garter bands around her thighs but no panties or bra. My cock came to attention quickly and then some. As she turned to follow me swimming toward her she had her legs bowed slightly. As I got closer, I could see that she was trimmed and partially shaved. Her breasts looked wonderful floating free of any constraining garments. I got closer still and could now make out the large swell of her labia. She was plumped and my cock was now in the most intense erection I could ever recall having.
I broke the surface a few feet away from her in a quick upward movement to stand on my feet. When I stood up the water came to my stomach and I looked straight at her. She still had a hand up to her mouth but now biting down on two fingers and an incredulous look on her face. I continued to just stand there waiting for her to make the next move. She looked into my eyes and seemed to read my mind. She came to me.
She stood and walked over to me never breaking eye contact and lowered her hand from her face. Her wet breasts glistened as the water flowed down them. The droplets sparkled when they fell free and the soft pool light fluctuating across her body gave her a more exotic and erotic visage. She held both her hands out to me as if beckoning. She reached me and wrapped her arms around my neck, lifted herself up and deposited a deep, long, wet kiss on my lips. I stood there kissing her without moving, her breasts pressing into me. My cock again twinged and jumped and she felt it and caught her breath again. I wanted to make sure she wanted this so I stood there unmoving and unresponsive. When she broke the kiss and pulled back, I saw a glimmer of trepidation begin in those beautiful green eyes. I knew she did want this and I slowly brought my arms around to encircle her in a loving, protective embrace. As I did, her pupils dilated even further and she kissed me hungrily this time, our tongues dancing passionately. In that moment, we ceased to be Aunt and Nephew.
After we came up for air our breathing was pretty ragged as though we had been running from the Hounds of Hell and out of breath. Without words she brought her legs up and wrapped them around me. She reached around behind and under her taking my cock in hand to guide it towards her pussy. Her eyes grew big at first as she wrapped her hand around my shaft. With a seductive smile on her face she nudged the tip to her opening and she began to slide it between her folds. She wanted it right then. I dropped my hands to her lower back for support. Pulling with her legs she began to bear down in impatience. I felt a familiar pulse through my cock as my pre-cum began to slowly flow to the tip. She released the tension in her legs and repeated the action again. This time the head slipped past her opening with a little less friction. She moaned softly and stopped to savor being penetrated again. It had been a long time since she had made love. A long time indeed for both of us. As I slid into her a little deeper each time she bore down, it was sending wave after wave of pleasure through us. So long have I denied myself this simple act of loving. She bore down again interrupting my reverie. She wasn’t tight like a woman in her twenties but she was snug and after each attempt to bear down I was still penetrating deeper inside. She stopped each time to accommodate herself to me.
Jean started moving up and down in short movements trying to increase my depth into her. The water wasn’t helping as it diluted both our juices when my shaft slid out. Her eyes closed, she was a picture of exotic, aroused concentration as she kept the short movements going to make me impale her deeper. With only half of me inside, she wanted more and with more urgent thrusting, she was getting it. I felt a sudden rise in heat as her lubricating juices flooded around my cock suddenly. With this, she’d given over any inhibitions and I slid deeper. I moved my hands down onto her hips now and helped push her down on me in my own impatience. At this moment, I slid completely into her. She moaned more loudly as she was coming close to her peak already. Her hands came from around my neck and grabbed for my shoulders, her nails digging in as she rocked her hips more and more. I felt a fluttering around my cock and then hard contractions. I pulled her down harder on each thrust forcing our pubic bones to grind. Her head fell back and a low stuttering moaning wail came from her throat as she convulsed in a sweet orgasm of delight.
It wasn’t an earth shattering orgasm from all appearances but it was a deep one. One she needed. Her breathing slowed after a couple of minutes but her pussy was still contracting often. I held her hips down and let her orgasm play out. Her grip on my shoulders became weak and I quickly shifted my hands up behind her back to support her. I let her lay back and “float” making sure to keep her head above water. Her limp arms slid into the water and floated out from her sides. The grip her legs had around me also lessened. I slowly moved us around so I could lean against the edge of the pool. Once there I gently lifted one leg at a time with one hand onto the edge of the pool while supporting her with the other. I supported her in this position for a few minutes letting her enjoy the ecstasy of her moment in time.
I hadn’t cum and being buried to the hilt in her and watching her float was intensely erotic to say the least. This kept me hard throughout and was becoming uncomfortable. I pulled her legs off the edge of the pool and held them against my sides keeping her knees bent. In this position I could lean back and rest against the side of the pool and she could float without any support under her back. She was beautiful to say the least. So much so that she seemed to glow. Her peaked nipples were hard as diamonds as the water lapped over them and evaporated causing a cooling sensation. I could still feel her contractions but they were weaker now and coming further apart. She’d had the instant gratification orgasm she wanted and the slight dreamy smile showed it.
Her eyes opened dreamily and the smile she had when she came remained. This was the moment of truth. Our act of incest. Would she become guilty or not? She looked up into my eyes. The smile remained and a new look of newfound compassion was on her face. The afterglow of her orgasm shown in her eyes but no sign of guilt.
“Thank you.” She whispered as she hugged her legs to me slightly and enjoying the feeling of floating free in space.