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I had done it for thirty years till I could do it no longer. Being a massage ther****t can be a paradoxical thing. You give and give, taking away everyone else’s pain only to suffer all their pains yourself. That was ten years ago. Since that time I had gone from learning to walk again after the back injury, to jogging fifty feet, to running sub seven minute miles. All was going well in my life until the virus came around. That was when very thing closed up. Everyone mandated to stay at home. Isolation. For me that meant solitary confinement. What was suppose to last a couple of weeks turned into months. So who could blame me? It wasn’t my fault. A man can only take so much no matter how old he is. After all, she was the one who started it. If she had only pulled her bedroom curtains. If only she hadn’t seen me watching. I saw the way she looked at me. I knew she knew what she was doing. And it was killing me. Yes, in hind sight I could of done the mature ‘thang’. The mature ‘thang’ would have been to pull my own curtains. My mom had taught me six decade years earlier that if you ignore someone long enough, they will either cease and desist or they will simply go away. But, as I said, it had been a long, lonely summer. And, of course there was the irresistible fact that she was built like the proverbial brick shit house…and she knew it. Was it my bad that she was only sixteen and her daddy was a cop. A truly bad ass cop too. I had always been civil to him but it was clear from the start that he considered himself the warrior and everyone else his serfs. So don’t think I didn’t think twice before crossing over the line. But, as I said, it had been a long, lonely summer.
I’m not actually sure how it escalated so fast. At my age nothing happened fast. Maybe because it was Friday and I had been looking over at her window every night that week. Hey, you weren’t there. She was good. She knew how to put on a show. She was a natural. And yes, she was trouble. But you don’t consider those things when you are feeling old and hung out to dry. One more dance. Just one more dance. Was that too much to ask?
I was trying to remember her name. Janet? Janice? Jessica? Her bedroom window was on the second floor. I had been in the house once before. Two bedrooms upstairs, one down. I was sure daddy stayed with mom downstairs —at least until she had had enough of him and moved out.
My own place was a story and a half. That is, a bungalow. Chicago had as many bungalows as your average dog had fleas. Ya, he was a Chicago cop to boot. Back to my house. Being a story and half, meant it had an attic. My attic just happened to have the stairway dormer facing Janet? Janice? Jessica’s? bedroom window. It was Friday and I found myself standing there at the top of stairs like I had all that week, waiting for the show begin. What was I doing? It was only noon and the show usually didn’t start til after dark. How had it come to this, hoping to watch some teenage neighbor girl bare her magnificent pair to the old codger next door.
Come on, give me some credit. I wasn’t born yesterday. I had been online before your mommy began changing your diapers. I knew that it was now somewhat fashionable for young girls to take a shine to older men. Personally, I’d always taken a ‘shine’ to women more near my age. But, ya, how was that working out for me of late? She was right there. Displaying herself to me —on purpose. But just what was her purpose? All week long I had watched a secondary light turn that bedroom of hers into a warm pink glow. As I stood there lost in though, quite unexpectedly her face filled the window frame.
From what I could discern, cops, at least the one living next door, didn’t have regular nine-to-five hours. Still, I knew he wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Friday nights were drink’n nights and he wouldn’t be back till morning. Maybe that was why she was just standing in front of the window so early in the day making an arm gesture to me. “Turn away, Ward. Don’t do this shit!” The little man was screaming inside my head trying his best to warn me off. But in the end it was, “Oh fuck it. You only live once.” I returned a hand gesture.
Janet? Janice? Jessica? met me out back of her house. An old, cracked and uncared for driveway was all that separated our two homes. Garages were in the back. I had put in a new concrete drive two years before, along with a new twenty-two by twenty-six, two and half car garage. Her’s was still an old carriage house complete with wooden floors and doors that you had to get out of your car to open.
“Daddy’s gone for the weekend,” the five-two, raven haired, buxom little pixie informed me. “Some conference in Vegas. He’s a dick. Since mom left, he hasn’t given two fucks about what I do. But he’d probably kill you if he caught you fuck’n me.”
Janet? Janice? Jessica? Jane? Joan? Joanna? Her fucking name just wouldn’t come to me. Jessie? Judith? Jean? Jillian? F’n brain freeze.
“But both of my parents told me to just be careful. Mom buys me birth control and dad, he told me boys are stupid and can’t do anything right. It was grandpa who told me that older men treat women better.”
“Jenna,” finally her name came to me. But before I could say a word, her hand grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my lips against her. “I want you to fuck me. I bet you’ve fucked a thousand women. How old are you?”
“Seventy,” escaped my mouth before I could coral it back in.
“FUCK!” she exclaimed with wide bright eyes as she stepped back to take another look at me.
“Ya, I know. I say that too every time I think about it.”
“No! I love that you are that old. FUCK!” she again cried out in dismay, looking at me in continued unbelief. “You sure as fuck don’t look like any grandfather I ever knew. Does your dick still work?”
Today’s young people never ceased to amaze me at their total lack of social restraint. I grew up at a time where men, let alone women, never swore. Girls giggled and getting one to kiss you was a big deal. But today, the microwave generation as I called it, it was shaved pussies and “Fuck this” and “Fuck that” and hopping into bed with a guy before you even knew his name. Brooks was right. The world had gone and got itself in one big God damn hurry.
“I guess that all depends on whether or not it has reason to.”
‘I want to call you, pappy. Is that ok.”
“Whatever rocks your boat. Are you sure? Fantasies rarely make it well over into the land of reality, you know.”
“One of dad’s friends fucked me. He was my dad’s age. I like older men. You can do me anyway you want…. it’s just that it can’t be here,” Jenna said pointing back at her house.
My eyes looked down into her hazel-green eyes before sneaking down into the quilted yellow pull-over with all its buttons unbuttoned. Even covered in cloth and bound in elastic, her breasts always announced her presence. Young boys were more worried about getting into the downstairs merchandise than taking time for a little upstairs window shopping. Suddenly I was remembering those days. At the time, I too was much more interested in getting to the downstairs destination than taking my time and enjoying the journey down there. However, now, at this stage in the game, I’m much more interested in the journey. But it was her mentioning of “anyway you want,” that set my imagination aflame.
Just then a car pulled into her drive and drove on around and parked in front of the garage.
“It’s my mom,” Jenna warned me.
“Hi dear!” the woman called over to Jenna. “Could I talk to you a minute?”
Later I learned that mom and dad had talked and thought it best that Jenna not be completely on her own for the the whole weekend. I saw Jenna turn and look my way as she headed to the house a bit forlorned,
“Hi, it’s Ward, isn’t it?” the silky salt and pepper haired woman asked. “You probably don’t remember me and I’m not sure we ever actually met. I wasn’t here very long when we first got the house. I think you were away at that time.” She extended her hand, “I’m Jessie, Jenna’s mom.”
I guessed her to be in her late thirties. She was an inch or two shorter than Jenna even with her large soled tennis shoes on. She looked gym fit wearing a worn but tight pair of jeans with a loose white cotton shirt that buttoned down the front. And what a front it was.
“Listen,” she continued as she looked down and away before turning back to look me square in the eyes. “I know Jenna fairly well. I don’t know if you’ve been fucking her but I’d like to ask you not to. I know she has a thing for older men.”
I had yet to say a word but apparently words were not needed in this conversation.
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed as she looked at me in an apologetic way. “I, I, I thought…. But then you two were planning too, weren’t you? You see, Wade, her dad being a cop and his friends being mostly cops, Jenna has been around older men all her life, alfa men. And I caught one of Brian’s so called friends with his hand down Jenna’s pants when she was only twelve. So I know. And she and I have talked. Brian and I aren’t fools. k**s are going to experiment.”
The little woman took a breath and then looked away in contemplation before adding, “Listen. I realize I probably just ruined a good thing for you. And I understand men as they get older they tend to look at younger girls. Jenna is a bit of a free spirit. She gets that mostly from me, I’m afraid,” she admitted in a half hearted, almost apologetic laugh. “I would just appreciate it, Ward, if you just turn her away when she offers herself to you. I’m not judging you. It’s just that she’s my daughter.”
“Jessie, is it?” I replied. “I’m seventy years old.” The woman turned square to me and looked at me as if she had only first seen me. “The last thing I need at this stage of the game is to be hauled in on having sex with a minor. Yes, she has flirted with me but nothing serious and nothing I couldn’t handle. I have k**s of my own, though they are older now and all have k**s of their own. I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen between me and your daughter. It’s just nice to talk to someone young and remember what it was like to be that age.”
The door to the house slammed at that moment as Jenna locked the door and made her way to the car with a backpack slung over her shoulders. She cast a glance our way but didn’t say anything as she got in the car and closed the door.
“Well I guess she’s ready to go. Thank you, Ward. Not everyone would have been so mature about this.” She then extended her hand and we shook before she turned away and got back in the car. There had been a difference in her handshake and a difference in the way she looked at me as she turned away.
Backing up and turning around, I looked over to the two women as they both looked at me. Both smiled. One was mischievous while the other was…warm and inquisitive. Then it disappeared down the drive. As I was about to turn and manage my way back into the house, I saw it. It was a pink envelope and had apparently been dropped out of the window as the car made its way down the drive.
Picking it us, it had one word on the front of it, “Papa.” Opening it, scribbled on pink writing paper, it read:
“Papa! Don’t worry. I still want to fuck you. But do me a big favor pretty please with sugar and pussy lips all over it. Call my mom at this number and ask her out tonight. Then fuck her. She needs it worse than I do. I can always tell when she gets laid. You’ll be doing me a favor because then she will be nice to me. I asked my friend, Becky to come over tonight so there’s no issue with mom going out. Do me this and I’ll bring Becky over with me and we will both show you a good time. -kisses and much more, Jenna.”
I hadn’t call a woman up and asked her out in over fifty years. How the fuck did I go from a sure thing to asking mommy out and then trying and get her to fuck me? Life never seems to get less complicated.
Eventually I made my way back into the house, fixed me some lunch and sat in the quiet of the kitchen memorizing the number. Somewhere in time she answered the phone and though a bit startled, eventually agreed to go out.
Pizza was always a safe date, especially in Chicago. Conversation was easy. I felt more at home with her than u******e Jenna. And as much as Jenna had my age all wrong, so did her mother. But turn around was fair play in that mom wasn’t as young as I had first estimated.
“I got pregnant right out of high school but had a miscarriage two months in. The women in my family are cursed that way. But it make me grow up, think about college, dump all the losers I had been dating and get real on the partying. Basically it made me grow the fuck up. I probably would have gone to college if I hadn’t met Roy. I know you’ve heard of him. Roy Greer. Purdue graduate. Lawyer turned politician who always courted cops and firemen. He was sitting in the dinner the night I was working there. A group of men had come in. It was late. They were mostly drunk or on there way to being totally ass wiped. One of them shoved his hand up under my skirt and that’s when it all happened. You see, I guess I have a talent for being able to size people up. And I verbalized it that night ripping this guy apart in front of his buddies all the while he was burping, “Do I know you? How do you know so much about me?” and on and on. Anyway, it caught Roy’s eyes and that, as they say is the rest of the story. Roy offered me a part time job of sizing up jury candidates. I guess I was good enough at it that he slaved me out to other lawyers and then occasionally to cops who weren’t getting anywhere with a witness or a straight story out of someone they had arrested. That’s when I met Brian.”
I let her go on about how things escalated from there. Brian towered over most people but Jessie couldn’t even be his shadow at noon on a sunny day. Like many, she was attracted to the warrior. Married when she discovered herself pregnant again. That lasted ten years till she interviewed a hooker one night as Brian just so happened to walked by. Apparently karma came home to shit all over his head that night. It wasn’t long after that she left Brian and never came back. The divorce was still pending but it was over as far as she was concerned.
They boxed our pizza after which we sat in the car at some ice cream joint. The chemistry was good. She was easy on the eyes and could hold a conversation without owning. And yet there was an uneasiness to it. After all, I had just about fucked her daughter. On top of that I was always seeing Jenna’s letter projected in the back of my skull telling me that I needed to fuck her mother.
It was inevitable that the moment would arrive and it did. Silence. It wasn’t totally awkward. After seven decades one learns things. I laughed and then she laughed and then I reached over and we kissed.
There are somethings in life you never forget. I’ll never forget sitting the back of my brother’s sixty-seven, teal blue, SS396 Chevy Chevelle as it drove up and over the Jackson Street bridge as Denise Turner’s hand touched the side of my face and drew me in to have my first taste of the kiss by which all other kisses would there after be judged. Only once, a wiry haired redhead at an airport good-bye did I ever experience her equal. That is, until I kissed Jenna’s mom.
“Wow!” Mrs. Salt and Pepper exclaimed as she pulled back away from me and for the second time took a second appraisal of me.
“Well, how’d I do?” I inquired in my best Bogart impersonation. “Did you like it?” She answered me unknowingly in typical Bacall fashion by stating, “I don’t know yet,” as she leaned back over for another one of the same.
Dreamy eyed and running her fingers across the side of my face, Jenna’s mom sighed, “I earn my living by being a damn good profiler. But I got to hand it to you, mister, you completely hoodwinked me.”
“What? Cop’s don’t kiss like that?” I teased.
“Cops. Firemen. Lawyers or anyone else you want to add to that list.”
Jessie then became motherly and wanted to check in on her wayward c***d so we drove back to her place. There the two pop-tarts were found in the spare bedroom doing whatever fifteen-year old girls now a days do. Jenna smiled at me and asked if we had a good time and why we were home so early. As soon as her mother turned away, Jenna winked at me and mouthed the words “Did you fuck her?”
Jessie’s place was small but clean. I guessed it to be late ’50’s cops ranch for we were in the middle of Chicago’s cop town. I had been here once before helping a friend ready her father’s place for an estate sale. Sixty-three guns we discovered in that house, all loaded and ready for any imagined emergency. Cops are definitely a different breed of people.
I suppose it was around midnight when I took my leave of three women in a ranch. I told Jessie that if she was interested in stopping by I’d have breakfast ready for her in the morning. One last long and lingering kiss that curled me toes and sent me off to dreamland.
———————
I woke to the sound of pots and pans and the smell of bacon. Poking my head around the corner, there she was in all her wify wonder was Jessie in jeans and a sleeveless scoop neck satin blouse. My manhood was almost always at attention in the morning and this morning was no different.
“Hey there sleepy head,” the little woman beaconed to me. “You look rough. Go get cleaned up. How do you like your eggs?”
I’d been alone in that house for almost ten years. I had slept through he entrance. Apparently my watch dog had been bribed by bacon bits. I’d have to talk to Bootsy later about her one duty of standing guard while I slept. Quickly I splashed water on my stubbly face, pulled the covers up on the bed and got dressed before walking into the kitchen just as she slide two eggs on to my plate.
“Judging by the contents of your fridge, I’m gathering you’re something of a health nut.”
“We men have to watch our figures as well, you know.” I thanked her for cooking and we mostly did small talk as we ate. I cleared the table, commanding her to sit as I refilled her coffee mug. As always, I washed the dishes and left them to air dry before sitting back down to face my morning surprise.
“Well this is proceeding along nicely,” I joked.
“It was your kisses. I had to repay you somehow.”
“What are the girls up to this morning.”
“Ha. They won’t be up before noon. Teenage girls on a Saturday?”
A slow silence grew. Seriously I wanted to get up and walk over and shove my hands down that shimmering, loose fitting blouse of hers. God they were huge this morning.”
“I guess it’s time to confess to you, Wade.”
“Oh! And what, pray tell, could that be?” I smiled at her as I sipped my juice.
“I’m 49, about to turn 50.”
Though physically I would have guessed her to be mid thirties, there was maturity about her that had dismissed that assessment.
“I had Jenna much later than I told you. I honestly didn’t think I could have c***dren.”
I watched the woman fiddle with her cup, looking down, drawing breath before preceding.
“Bear with me. I feel I need to explain a few things after last night.” Again she sighed.
“I have some bad history you should know about.” I objected but she would not hear of it.
“No. No. You need to hear this. I was a sleep around for a long time. That’s why I thought I couldn’t have c***dren. I’m not even sure Bruce is Jenna’s dad. When we got serious, I promised him I’d stop sleeping around. But that was easier said than done, especially when some of my old fuck friends were his friends. Brian knew I was a sleep around. It kind of turned him on when we were dating…me telling him who had fucked me. How many had fucked me at once. Any sorted story I could tell him. So don’t go getting all dreamy eyed about me because I’m nothing special. But I will tell you this, I did eventually stop sleeping around. It was just once or twice while engaged and a couple of times that first year when Brian was gone a lot.”
I watched her as she continued to play with her coffee cup, only occasionally looking up at me to see how I was responding to the revelation. I think it wasn’t what she expected. For long ago I came to the realization that everyone was fighting their own particular war. I had no room to judge. I too had my own demons. But then, there were assholes like Brian, who probably would knock me six ways to Sunday if he knew I almost fucked his daughter and was now sitting here with his wife.
“So tell me about the divorce thing,” I answered her, ignoring her obvious guilt over her younger years.
Jessie sighed loudly then took a sip of her coffee. Looking over to me with her head a little sideways, she answered.
“Like I told you, you weren’t around when we moved it. I suppose us buying the house was like those couples who think having a k** would heal all their differences. Obviously, it didn’t. We fought regularly. I looked at Jenna and saw that if I stuck around she was going to be just like me. Of course Brian is no role model either. But the fighting had to end. So I left. That was,” she stopped to calculate it in her head, “over two years ago. I realized we were never going to get back together. Max, an old partner of his before Brian became a full fledged detective, told me Brian had been sleeping around on me the whole time. So I talked to Roy and he pointed me in the direction of a friend of his who owed him a favor. He’s a killer divorce lawyer. It didn’t take long and he had video and other evidence that Brian was fucking around. As you know, Illinois is a no-fault state. But still, I knew I had to have something really undeniable to put in front of Brian for him to give me a divorce. It’s too much of an ego blow to his manhood. But I told him when he and his lawyer met with us, that I didn’t care if he made it out like he was divorcing me for whatever reason he could dream up. When he gets back from Vegas, he said he’d sign the papers and it would be over. I hope it is. It would be like him to back out at the last minute just to torture me more. He’s wicked bad, Wade. You don’t want to get on his shit list, believe me.”
“Are you trying to ‘ward’ me off?”
“You’re funny. Honestly, last night I saw that you were getting sweet on me. I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into here. You seem like a nice man and I don’t know too many of those. Most of the men I’m around are tough, hard-nosed assholes. Roy is nice but he’s a shyster if there ever was one. He’s treated me well but I’m not so naive as not to know he’d sell me out if it gained him something personally. They’re all that way. That’s why I wanted to be upfront with you.”
I smiled at her. “I appreciate you being so upfront and forthright. I really am. But you needn’t worry. We all have things in our past of which we’re not particularly proud of.” I hesitated and began playing with my own empty mug, spinning it around in my hands. “I just have one question for you. Having as much experience as you have had in the past,” I hesitated before continuing. “I’ve heard it said by some who are in the business of sex, that after a while, they no longer find physical intimacy enjoyable or special. Do you have some of those same feelings?”
Jessie beamed and laughed a hearty laugh. “Gawd, no. I’m horny as ever. Sorry! Don’t mean to infer anything. I don’t sleep around anymore and truthfully, after leaving Brian, I had no taste for it. But to answer your question,” again she chuckled, “no. I miss it actually.” And with that she smiled.
My sheets weren’t right out of the dryer but then again, they had been recently changed. There wasn’t a lot of verbal exchange that preceded leading her back into the bedroom. Once there we each quickly removed our clothing before flopping down on the bed in a heated embrace.
Everything I found physically appealing about fifteen year old, Jenna, I found amplified in her mother. She was fun, conversive, a bit of a tease, mature and intelligent. Though her breasts were noticeable, when the clothes came off, they were larger than imagined and amazingly firm. Her tummy has little loose flesh to it but not much. If we were to fly to the Caribbean the following day, she’d be a head turner in one of those dare-to-be-bare two piece suits young girls were fond of wearing now. However, that wonderful old school bush would have to be trimmed.
I had to hand it to her, Jessie was no slouch in the bedroom. She knew what she was doing and what she wanted and took it without asking. She didn’t have to ask. I was putty in her hands. I loved her climax. Her legs went all straight and rigid before they began quivering as her hands seemingly couldn’t make up their mind as to whether to pull my face further into her itch or to push me away. No doubt about it, here was a woman who was going to be a hard one to let go of if it ever came to that.
We both laid there, quiet in our own after-glow. I was at a loss for words or rather, thought words were incapable of expressing all the emotions that were racing through my head. So many things. Her smell. Her silky hair. And finally, a woman who knew how to kiss. She was both dom and yet slave.
Her breathing was returning to normal. “I needed that,” she sighed.
I laughed then added, “You? We’ve got to do this again.”
“Definitely. How long does it take you to recharge your batteries?” she laughed in earnest.
We showered, returned to the kitchen for coffee refills with only towels wrapped around our waists. Fantasyland. I wasn’t use to being with a woman who was comfortable enough to remain semi-naked in the house. I wondered if this was the sign of things to come. It had developed fast. I wasn’t minding that a bit.
I’m not actually sure how it escalated so fast. At my age nothing happened fast. Maybe because it was Friday and I had been looking over at her window every night that week. Hey, you weren’t there. She was good. She knew how to put on a show. She was a natural. And yes, she was trouble. But you don’t consider those things when you are feeling old and hung out to dry. One more dance. Just one more dance. Was that too much to ask?
I was trying to remember her name. Janet? Janice? Jessica? Her bedroom window was on the second floor. I had been in the house once before. Two bedrooms upstairs, one down. I was sure daddy stayed with mom downstairs —at least until she had had enough of him and moved out.
My own place was a story and a half. That is, a bungalow. Chicago had as many bungalows as your average dog had fleas. Ya, he was a Chicago cop to boot. Back to my house. Being a story and half, meant it had an attic. My attic just happened to have the stairway dormer facing Janet? Janice? Jessica’s? bedroom window. It was Friday and I found myself standing there at the top of stairs like I had all that week, waiting for the show begin. What was I doing? It was only noon and the show usually didn’t start til after dark. How had it come to this, hoping to watch some teenage neighbor girl bare her magnificent pair to the old codger next door.
Come on, give me some credit. I wasn’t born yesterday. I had been online before your mommy began changing your diapers. I knew that it was now somewhat fashionable for young girls to take a shine to older men. Personally, I’d always taken a ‘shine’ to women more near my age. But, ya, how was that working out for me of late? She was right there. Displaying herself to me —on purpose. But just what was her purpose? All week long I had watched a secondary light turn that bedroom of hers into a warm pink glow. As I stood there lost in though, quite unexpectedly her face filled the window frame.
From what I could discern, cops, at least the one living next door, didn’t have regular nine-to-five hours. Still, I knew he wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Friday nights were drink’n nights and he wouldn’t be back till morning. Maybe that was why she was just standing in front of the window so early in the day making an arm gesture to me. “Turn away, Ward. Don’t do this shit!” The little man was screaming inside my head trying his best to warn me off. But in the end it was, “Oh fuck it. You only live once.” I returned a hand gesture.
Janet? Janice? Jessica? met me out back of her house. An old, cracked and uncared for driveway was all that separated our two homes. Garages were in the back. I had put in a new concrete drive two years before, along with a new twenty-two by twenty-six, two and half car garage. Her’s was still an old carriage house complete with wooden floors and doors that you had to get out of your car to open.
“Daddy’s gone for the weekend,” the five-two, raven haired, buxom little pixie informed me. “Some conference in Vegas. He’s a dick. Since mom left, he hasn’t given two fucks about what I do. But he’d probably kill you if he caught you fuck’n me.”
Janet? Janice? Jessica? Jane? Joan? Joanna? Her fucking name just wouldn’t come to me. Jessie? Judith? Jean? Jillian? F’n brain freeze.
“But both of my parents told me to just be careful. Mom buys me birth control and dad, he told me boys are stupid and can’t do anything right. It was grandpa who told me that older men treat women better.”
“Jenna,” finally her name came to me. But before I could say a word, her hand grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my lips against her. “I want you to fuck me. I bet you’ve fucked a thousand women. How old are you?”
“Seventy,” escaped my mouth before I could coral it back in.
“FUCK!” she exclaimed with wide bright eyes as she stepped back to take another look at me.
“Ya, I know. I say that too every time I think about it.”
“No! I love that you are that old. FUCK!” she again cried out in dismay, looking at me in continued unbelief. “You sure as fuck don’t look like any grandfather I ever knew. Does your dick still work?”
Today’s young people never ceased to amaze me at their total lack of social restraint. I grew up at a time where men, let alone women, never swore. Girls giggled and getting one to kiss you was a big deal. But today, the microwave generation as I called it, it was shaved pussies and “Fuck this” and “Fuck that” and hopping into bed with a guy before you even knew his name. Brooks was right. The world had gone and got itself in one big God damn hurry.
“I guess that all depends on whether or not it has reason to.”
‘I want to call you, pappy. Is that ok.”
“Whatever rocks your boat. Are you sure? Fantasies rarely make it well over into the land of reality, you know.”
“One of dad’s friends fucked me. He was my dad’s age. I like older men. You can do me anyway you want…. it’s just that it can’t be here,” Jenna said pointing back at her house.
My eyes looked down into her hazel-green eyes before sneaking down into the quilted yellow pull-over with all its buttons unbuttoned. Even covered in cloth and bound in elastic, her breasts always announced her presence. Young boys were more worried about getting into the downstairs merchandise than taking time for a little upstairs window shopping. Suddenly I was remembering those days. At the time, I too was much more interested in getting to the downstairs destination than taking my time and enjoying the journey down there. However, now, at this stage in the game, I’m much more interested in the journey. But it was her mentioning of “anyway you want,” that set my imagination aflame.
Just then a car pulled into her drive and drove on around and parked in front of the garage.
“It’s my mom,” Jenna warned me.
“Hi dear!” the woman called over to Jenna. “Could I talk to you a minute?”
Later I learned that mom and dad had talked and thought it best that Jenna not be completely on her own for the the whole weekend. I saw Jenna turn and look my way as she headed to the house a bit forlorned,
“Hi, it’s Ward, isn’t it?” the silky salt and pepper haired woman asked. “You probably don’t remember me and I’m not sure we ever actually met. I wasn’t here very long when we first got the house. I think you were away at that time.” She extended her hand, “I’m Jessie, Jenna’s mom.”
I guessed her to be in her late thirties. She was an inch or two shorter than Jenna even with her large soled tennis shoes on. She looked gym fit wearing a worn but tight pair of jeans with a loose white cotton shirt that buttoned down the front. And what a front it was.
“Listen,” she continued as she looked down and away before turning back to look me square in the eyes. “I know Jenna fairly well. I don’t know if you’ve been fucking her but I’d like to ask you not to. I know she has a thing for older men.”
I had yet to say a word but apparently words were not needed in this conversation.
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed as she looked at me in an apologetic way. “I, I, I thought…. But then you two were planning too, weren’t you? You see, Wade, her dad being a cop and his friends being mostly cops, Jenna has been around older men all her life, alfa men. And I caught one of Brian’s so called friends with his hand down Jenna’s pants when she was only twelve. So I know. And she and I have talked. Brian and I aren’t fools. k**s are going to experiment.”
The little woman took a breath and then looked away in contemplation before adding, “Listen. I realize I probably just ruined a good thing for you. And I understand men as they get older they tend to look at younger girls. Jenna is a bit of a free spirit. She gets that mostly from me, I’m afraid,” she admitted in a half hearted, almost apologetic laugh. “I would just appreciate it, Ward, if you just turn her away when she offers herself to you. I’m not judging you. It’s just that she’s my daughter.”
“Jessie, is it?” I replied. “I’m seventy years old.” The woman turned square to me and looked at me as if she had only first seen me. “The last thing I need at this stage of the game is to be hauled in on having sex with a minor. Yes, she has flirted with me but nothing serious and nothing I couldn’t handle. I have k**s of my own, though they are older now and all have k**s of their own. I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen between me and your daughter. It’s just nice to talk to someone young and remember what it was like to be that age.”
The door to the house slammed at that moment as Jenna locked the door and made her way to the car with a backpack slung over her shoulders. She cast a glance our way but didn’t say anything as she got in the car and closed the door.
“Well I guess she’s ready to go. Thank you, Ward. Not everyone would have been so mature about this.” She then extended her hand and we shook before she turned away and got back in the car. There had been a difference in her handshake and a difference in the way she looked at me as she turned away.
Backing up and turning around, I looked over to the two women as they both looked at me. Both smiled. One was mischievous while the other was…warm and inquisitive. Then it disappeared down the drive. As I was about to turn and manage my way back into the house, I saw it. It was a pink envelope and had apparently been dropped out of the window as the car made its way down the drive.
Picking it us, it had one word on the front of it, “Papa.” Opening it, scribbled on pink writing paper, it read:
“Papa! Don’t worry. I still want to fuck you. But do me a big favor pretty please with sugar and pussy lips all over it. Call my mom at this number and ask her out tonight. Then fuck her. She needs it worse than I do. I can always tell when she gets laid. You’ll be doing me a favor because then she will be nice to me. I asked my friend, Becky to come over tonight so there’s no issue with mom going out. Do me this and I’ll bring Becky over with me and we will both show you a good time. -kisses and much more, Jenna.”
I hadn’t call a woman up and asked her out in over fifty years. How the fuck did I go from a sure thing to asking mommy out and then trying and get her to fuck me? Life never seems to get less complicated.
Eventually I made my way back into the house, fixed me some lunch and sat in the quiet of the kitchen memorizing the number. Somewhere in time she answered the phone and though a bit startled, eventually agreed to go out.
Pizza was always a safe date, especially in Chicago. Conversation was easy. I felt more at home with her than u******e Jenna. And as much as Jenna had my age all wrong, so did her mother. But turn around was fair play in that mom wasn’t as young as I had first estimated.
“I got pregnant right out of high school but had a miscarriage two months in. The women in my family are cursed that way. But it make me grow up, think about college, dump all the losers I had been dating and get real on the partying. Basically it made me grow the fuck up. I probably would have gone to college if I hadn’t met Roy. I know you’ve heard of him. Roy Greer. Purdue graduate. Lawyer turned politician who always courted cops and firemen. He was sitting in the dinner the night I was working there. A group of men had come in. It was late. They were mostly drunk or on there way to being totally ass wiped. One of them shoved his hand up under my skirt and that’s when it all happened. You see, I guess I have a talent for being able to size people up. And I verbalized it that night ripping this guy apart in front of his buddies all the while he was burping, “Do I know you? How do you know so much about me?” and on and on. Anyway, it caught Roy’s eyes and that, as they say is the rest of the story. Roy offered me a part time job of sizing up jury candidates. I guess I was good enough at it that he slaved me out to other lawyers and then occasionally to cops who weren’t getting anywhere with a witness or a straight story out of someone they had arrested. That’s when I met Brian.”
I let her go on about how things escalated from there. Brian towered over most people but Jessie couldn’t even be his shadow at noon on a sunny day. Like many, she was attracted to the warrior. Married when she discovered herself pregnant again. That lasted ten years till she interviewed a hooker one night as Brian just so happened to walked by. Apparently karma came home to shit all over his head that night. It wasn’t long after that she left Brian and never came back. The divorce was still pending but it was over as far as she was concerned.
They boxed our pizza after which we sat in the car at some ice cream joint. The chemistry was good. She was easy on the eyes and could hold a conversation without owning. And yet there was an uneasiness to it. After all, I had just about fucked her daughter. On top of that I was always seeing Jenna’s letter projected in the back of my skull telling me that I needed to fuck her mother.
It was inevitable that the moment would arrive and it did. Silence. It wasn’t totally awkward. After seven decades one learns things. I laughed and then she laughed and then I reached over and we kissed.
There are somethings in life you never forget. I’ll never forget sitting the back of my brother’s sixty-seven, teal blue, SS396 Chevy Chevelle as it drove up and over the Jackson Street bridge as Denise Turner’s hand touched the side of my face and drew me in to have my first taste of the kiss by which all other kisses would there after be judged. Only once, a wiry haired redhead at an airport good-bye did I ever experience her equal. That is, until I kissed Jenna’s mom.
“Wow!” Mrs. Salt and Pepper exclaimed as she pulled back away from me and for the second time took a second appraisal of me.
“Well, how’d I do?” I inquired in my best Bogart impersonation. “Did you like it?” She answered me unknowingly in typical Bacall fashion by stating, “I don’t know yet,” as she leaned back over for another one of the same.
Dreamy eyed and running her fingers across the side of my face, Jenna’s mom sighed, “I earn my living by being a damn good profiler. But I got to hand it to you, mister, you completely hoodwinked me.”
“What? Cop’s don’t kiss like that?” I teased.
“Cops. Firemen. Lawyers or anyone else you want to add to that list.”
Jessie then became motherly and wanted to check in on her wayward c***d so we drove back to her place. There the two pop-tarts were found in the spare bedroom doing whatever fifteen-year old girls now a days do. Jenna smiled at me and asked if we had a good time and why we were home so early. As soon as her mother turned away, Jenna winked at me and mouthed the words “Did you fuck her?”
Jessie’s place was small but clean. I guessed it to be late ’50’s cops ranch for we were in the middle of Chicago’s cop town. I had been here once before helping a friend ready her father’s place for an estate sale. Sixty-three guns we discovered in that house, all loaded and ready for any imagined emergency. Cops are definitely a different breed of people.
I suppose it was around midnight when I took my leave of three women in a ranch. I told Jessie that if she was interested in stopping by I’d have breakfast ready for her in the morning. One last long and lingering kiss that curled me toes and sent me off to dreamland.
———————
I woke to the sound of pots and pans and the smell of bacon. Poking my head around the corner, there she was in all her wify wonder was Jessie in jeans and a sleeveless scoop neck satin blouse. My manhood was almost always at attention in the morning and this morning was no different.
“Hey there sleepy head,” the little woman beaconed to me. “You look rough. Go get cleaned up. How do you like your eggs?”
I’d been alone in that house for almost ten years. I had slept through he entrance. Apparently my watch dog had been bribed by bacon bits. I’d have to talk to Bootsy later about her one duty of standing guard while I slept. Quickly I splashed water on my stubbly face, pulled the covers up on the bed and got dressed before walking into the kitchen just as she slide two eggs on to my plate.
“Judging by the contents of your fridge, I’m gathering you’re something of a health nut.”
“We men have to watch our figures as well, you know.” I thanked her for cooking and we mostly did small talk as we ate. I cleared the table, commanding her to sit as I refilled her coffee mug. As always, I washed the dishes and left them to air dry before sitting back down to face my morning surprise.
“Well this is proceeding along nicely,” I joked.
“It was your kisses. I had to repay you somehow.”
“What are the girls up to this morning.”
“Ha. They won’t be up before noon. Teenage girls on a Saturday?”
A slow silence grew. Seriously I wanted to get up and walk over and shove my hands down that shimmering, loose fitting blouse of hers. God they were huge this morning.”
“I guess it’s time to confess to you, Wade.”
“Oh! And what, pray tell, could that be?” I smiled at her as I sipped my juice.
“I’m 49, about to turn 50.”
Though physically I would have guessed her to be mid thirties, there was maturity about her that had dismissed that assessment.
“I had Jenna much later than I told you. I honestly didn’t think I could have c***dren.”
I watched the woman fiddle with her cup, looking down, drawing breath before preceding.
“Bear with me. I feel I need to explain a few things after last night.” Again she sighed.
“I have some bad history you should know about.” I objected but she would not hear of it.
“No. No. You need to hear this. I was a sleep around for a long time. That’s why I thought I couldn’t have c***dren. I’m not even sure Bruce is Jenna’s dad. When we got serious, I promised him I’d stop sleeping around. But that was easier said than done, especially when some of my old fuck friends were his friends. Brian knew I was a sleep around. It kind of turned him on when we were dating…me telling him who had fucked me. How many had fucked me at once. Any sorted story I could tell him. So don’t go getting all dreamy eyed about me because I’m nothing special. But I will tell you this, I did eventually stop sleeping around. It was just once or twice while engaged and a couple of times that first year when Brian was gone a lot.”
I watched her as she continued to play with her coffee cup, only occasionally looking up at me to see how I was responding to the revelation. I think it wasn’t what she expected. For long ago I came to the realization that everyone was fighting their own particular war. I had no room to judge. I too had my own demons. But then, there were assholes like Brian, who probably would knock me six ways to Sunday if he knew I almost fucked his daughter and was now sitting here with his wife.
“So tell me about the divorce thing,” I answered her, ignoring her obvious guilt over her younger years.
Jessie sighed loudly then took a sip of her coffee. Looking over to me with her head a little sideways, she answered.
“Like I told you, you weren’t around when we moved it. I suppose us buying the house was like those couples who think having a k** would heal all their differences. Obviously, it didn’t. We fought regularly. I looked at Jenna and saw that if I stuck around she was going to be just like me. Of course Brian is no role model either. But the fighting had to end. So I left. That was,” she stopped to calculate it in her head, “over two years ago. I realized we were never going to get back together. Max, an old partner of his before Brian became a full fledged detective, told me Brian had been sleeping around on me the whole time. So I talked to Roy and he pointed me in the direction of a friend of his who owed him a favor. He’s a killer divorce lawyer. It didn’t take long and he had video and other evidence that Brian was fucking around. As you know, Illinois is a no-fault state. But still, I knew I had to have something really undeniable to put in front of Brian for him to give me a divorce. It’s too much of an ego blow to his manhood. But I told him when he and his lawyer met with us, that I didn’t care if he made it out like he was divorcing me for whatever reason he could dream up. When he gets back from Vegas, he said he’d sign the papers and it would be over. I hope it is. It would be like him to back out at the last minute just to torture me more. He’s wicked bad, Wade. You don’t want to get on his shit list, believe me.”
“Are you trying to ‘ward’ me off?”
“You’re funny. Honestly, last night I saw that you were getting sweet on me. I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into here. You seem like a nice man and I don’t know too many of those. Most of the men I’m around are tough, hard-nosed assholes. Roy is nice but he’s a shyster if there ever was one. He’s treated me well but I’m not so naive as not to know he’d sell me out if it gained him something personally. They’re all that way. That’s why I wanted to be upfront with you.”
I smiled at her. “I appreciate you being so upfront and forthright. I really am. But you needn’t worry. We all have things in our past of which we’re not particularly proud of.” I hesitated and began playing with my own empty mug, spinning it around in my hands. “I just have one question for you. Having as much experience as you have had in the past,” I hesitated before continuing. “I’ve heard it said by some who are in the business of sex, that after a while, they no longer find physical intimacy enjoyable or special. Do you have some of those same feelings?”
Jessie beamed and laughed a hearty laugh. “Gawd, no. I’m horny as ever. Sorry! Don’t mean to infer anything. I don’t sleep around anymore and truthfully, after leaving Brian, I had no taste for it. But to answer your question,” again she chuckled, “no. I miss it actually.” And with that she smiled.
My sheets weren’t right out of the dryer but then again, they had been recently changed. There wasn’t a lot of verbal exchange that preceded leading her back into the bedroom. Once there we each quickly removed our clothing before flopping down on the bed in a heated embrace.
Everything I found physically appealing about fifteen year old, Jenna, I found amplified in her mother. She was fun, conversive, a bit of a tease, mature and intelligent. Though her breasts were noticeable, when the clothes came off, they were larger than imagined and amazingly firm. Her tummy has little loose flesh to it but not much. If we were to fly to the Caribbean the following day, she’d be a head turner in one of those dare-to-be-bare two piece suits young girls were fond of wearing now. However, that wonderful old school bush would have to be trimmed.
I had to hand it to her, Jessie was no slouch in the bedroom. She knew what she was doing and what she wanted and took it without asking. She didn’t have to ask. I was putty in her hands. I loved her climax. Her legs went all straight and rigid before they began quivering as her hands seemingly couldn’t make up their mind as to whether to pull my face further into her itch or to push me away. No doubt about it, here was a woman who was going to be a hard one to let go of if it ever came to that.
We both laid there, quiet in our own after-glow. I was at a loss for words or rather, thought words were incapable of expressing all the emotions that were racing through my head. So many things. Her smell. Her silky hair. And finally, a woman who knew how to kiss. She was both dom and yet slave.
Her breathing was returning to normal. “I needed that,” she sighed.
I laughed then added, “You? We’ve got to do this again.”
“Definitely. How long does it take you to recharge your batteries?” she laughed in earnest.
We showered, returned to the kitchen for coffee refills with only towels wrapped around our waists. Fantasyland. I wasn’t use to being with a woman who was comfortable enough to remain semi-naked in the house. I wondered if this was the sign of things to come. It had developed fast. I wasn’t minding that a bit.
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