Now she ached to see her daughter and granddaughter. She longed to go by the cemetery and check on George.
The sound of Sandy’s giggles echoed in the campground as she walked through the trees in the darkness. Following along behind her were the two men they had met when they first arrived last week. A couple of widowers from New York, trolling the RV Camps, looking to pick up women.
This is what her life had become, one senior citizen swinging camp ground after another. People searching for the last love of their life, desperate to “hook up” as the young people called it.
“Brenda,” Sandy called, “Look who’s coming for dinner. And they’re bringing two bottles of wine and a bag of salad.”
Brenda looked at the three. “It appears to me that the three of you have already been doing a little wine tasting.”
“Just a sip.” Sandy acknowledged with an inebriated giggle.
They strolled into the camp area that Brenda had spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning up after last night’s poker party.
“Dick says that he doesn’t want to play poker with you anymore. He thinks you cheat.”
Brenda turned and looked at him, “Well, good. I was going to recommend that tonight we play strip poker, but I guess that’s off the table.”
She would never have suggested the game, but she liked to tease and Dick deserved being picked on. The man was on a quest to get Sandy and she was leading him on a merry chase. Brenda expected his camper to start rocking any night now.
“Wait a minute. I’d consider playing strip poker, I just can’t afford to lose any more money. Hell, five hundred in one night is a lot to lose.”
“Or a lot to win,” she retorted. “Too bad you’re not up to playing again.”
“Don’t count me out. I’m up for strip poker,” James said.
Brenda glanced at James. He was a big strapping man who liked women, lots of women, and was still playing the game at seventy.
“Settle down, big boy, I was only teasing.”
“Damn teasing women. Always getting your hopes up,” he said dejectedly.
Yeah well, he could get his hopes and anything else up that he wanted, but she wasn’t going to fulfill his dreams. Not this granny.
After dinner, Sandy went inside the camper and turned on the stereo until Perry Como crooned through the campground.
“I think we should dance,” Sandy said. “Some soft music, twinkle lights, and a little wine certainly sets the mood.”
Oh dear, Brenda recognized that look. One of the two gentlemen was about to get lucky. Probably Dick. She just hoped that if he took heart meds, he had them handy. Sandy could wear a man down quickly.
Dick walked over to Sandy. “I’m up for dancing.”
He grabbed her and started dirty dancing. Brenda had to turn away, while Sandy broke out in giggles.
James came over and took her by the hand. “May I have this dance?”
Why not? A man hadn’t danced with her since before her George died. “I’d love to.”
Music continued to play and Brenda let herself relax in James’ arms. His strong arms entwined her and she sighed at the secure hold around her. It felt good to feel a man’s body, to breathe in his masculine scent and, for a moment, she closed her eyes and just held on. Only in her mind, it was George’s arms around her again.
God, she missed the bastard.
When the music stopped, she looked over to see Sandy and Dick in a full-fledged lip lock. She glanced away, her cheeks flaming. It looked like the chase had just ended and Dick was about to be caught.
“I think we’ve lost them for the night,” James said.
Brenda peaked over his shoulder to see the two of them quietly sneaking away.
“Sorry,” James said. “I think you’re stuck with me for a while. Any moment now, that camper is going to start rocking.”
“I don’t mind,” Brenda said. “Sit down and open up that bottle of wine.”
She threw another log onto the fire and watched as sparks swirled into the night sky, like lightning bugs all aflutter. Loneliness crept through her soul like a familiar blanket. Why couldn’t she just jump into another man’s arms, forget her husband?
Because she had loved George. Loved him heart and soul, missed the rhythm of his heartbeat close to her at night, missed his throaty laughter, and his smiling eyes.
“So, James, how long have you been traveling with Dick?” she asked to bring herself back to the present and push the loneliness aside.
“Over a year. My wife’s been dead since April a year ago and Dick’s been divorced for five years. We decided to spend our retirement money on the road. And here we are.”
Two gentleman trolling campgrounds looking for widows? She’d never thought about finding your next mate at the state parks.
“My George died a little over a year ago. This is my first trip without him.”
Her chest ached with the memory and she felt kind of lost. He’d been her everything.
“The first one is the hardest. After that it gets easier.”
“How long were you married?”
“Forty years,” he said, his hands nervously twisting the stem of the glass. “How about yourself?”
“Forty-two,” she said. “Any kids? Grandkids?”
“Yeah, two kids and five grandchildren. Another one on the way.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice trailing off. “You want to dance again?”
The man really wanted to get lucky like Dick, but she didn’t have the heart to lead him on. It just wasn’t going to happen. He was a nice man, but she loved her husband, whether he was living or dead.
“No,” she said, watching his Adam’s apple bob nervously. “Are you okay?”
His face was ghostly white with a sheen of perspiration.
“Yeah, it’s just a little warm,” he said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Can I get you some water?”
“No, I’ll just sip a little more wine,” he said, gulping the liquid.
She watched his hands shake.
“Do I make you nervous?” she asked.
“No,” he responded quickly, his breath coming out in a rush.
He grasped his left arm. His eyes widened with pain, and she knew immediately. Fear had her jumping up from her chair and running to his side.
“Oh my God, you’re having a heart attack.”
“No, I’m fine. I just took one of Dick’s Viagra and… it seems to have caused me chest pains.”
“No. You’re not supposed to take Viagra with alcohol. In some men, it can trigger a heart attack.”
His eyes widened and she could see the panic on his face. “Oh, shit.”
“I’m calling 911.”
“No! That’s not necessary,” he said, wincing as he massaged his arm. “I’m feeling better.”
Another man was not going to die while she was here. She’d watched George slip away from her and she couldn’t go through that again.
“You old fool, it’s very necessary if you want to live.”
She ran inside the trailer and found her purse. She picked up her cell phone from inside and ran back outside.
James had slumped to the ground. She kneeled down beside him.
“My friend is having a heart attack!” she said frantically when the operator answered.
“What’s your location?”
She gave the woman the address and the operator stayed on the line with her.
She leaned over James as he lay there. He was conscious, but she could see the pain reflected from his eyes, even in the semi-darkness.
“An ambulance is on the way.” She told him. “Try to stay conscious.”
“Don’t tell them,” he whispered.
“About the Viagra?” she asked, astonished at his request. “I have to. Did you really think you were going to get lucky with me tonight?”
He gave her a small smile. “I hoped.”
> She picked up his hand squeezed it. “I don’t know whether to thank you or yell at you. Don’t you die on me.”
“I won’t.”
“Good,” she said. Sirens could be heard screaming their way toward them. She stood and waved her arms to get their attention. When she glanced back, she noticed his eyes were no longer open. James had slipped into unconsciousness.
Marianne glanced in the mirror again. She gazed at her short, cropped, totally blonde hair, wondering if she’d made a serious error. She’d wanted a new look, but this seemed…short and bleached.
“Relax, Marianne. It looks gorgeous,” Paige insisted, watching her from the spa chair where the nail technician was busy giving her a pedicure.
“Hmm…but my hair has always been shoulder length. I’ve never worn it this short. And never this blonde.”
She missed the sway of her hair against her neck. Her neck seemed naked and vulnerable, just like she feared she would soon be here at the Sanctuary, a day spa that Paige had dragged her to for a makeover and pampering.
“Out with the old and in with the new,” Paige said, her eyes lingering over a young man dressed in Egyptian attire who walked through carrying an armload of towels.
“Paige. Behave yourself,” Marianne said, giggling at her friend’s naughty behavior.
“Not a chance.” Paige sipped from the glass of wine and leaned back in the chair while the technician scrubbed her feet in the soapy water. “This is your first divorce, but it’s my third, and this time…this time I’m going to do things differently. This time, I’m going to be the one breaking hearts and having multiple orgasms in the process.”
Paige seemed to enjoy her bohemian lifestyle, while Marianne just couldn’t seem to get into it. How could she tell her daughter not to live this way, and then turn around and do it herself? It just didn’t feel like she was being herself.
“What are you talking about? Paige, you’ve been breaking hearts since college. And I’m not going to comment on the orgasms.”
Paige laughed, the sound sarcastic. “Why not? You need to experience a few more big O’s.”
“Not open for discussion,” Marianne interjected quickly.
Marianne’s nail technician took the file and moved it swiftly over her nails while her toenails dried a passionate pink. She’d chosen the color because it was the only passion in her life right now.
“Look, I’ve had my share of men, but in the past, I let my emotions get involved. Not anymore. At forty, I don’t need a man for anything but pleasure.”
The male nail technician gazed adoringly at Paige and smiled. Marianne watched in disbelief as she winked at the barely legal, young man massaging her legs.
“Miss McLane, you have very nice calves,” the young man said as he massaged her legs. “Do you work out?”
She smiled. “All the time, and I barely break a sweat.”
Marianne shook her head at her friend. Since college she’d wanted to be like Paige, but never had the courage to be outspoken and so sophisticated. Paige was a career woman who had the balls to run corporations, yet appear sexy and feminine with a will of steel.
“I told our dates, Brad and John, that we would meet them at Sophie’s tonight at six. That gives us just enough time for our massage, a quick shower, and we’ll still have time for drinks.”
Marianne frowned. “I can’t believe you found us two men online.”
“Why not? Everyone’s doing it these days.”
Shaking her head, Marianne wondered why she’d agreed to spend the day and evening with Paige. But she’d felt guilty that she hadn’t spent much time lately with her friend.
“I’m not everyone. I’ve never done it before.”
“Just like you didn’t think a day at the spa was necessary. Just go with the flow Marianne and enjoy.”
Call her uptight, old-fashioned, or even plain, but Marianne liked who she was and was slowly coming to the realization that she didn’t want to be wild and different. She didn’t know what she wanted.
“I can’t wait for my massage.”
Uncomfortable Marianne glanced at her friend. “Is a massage really necessary?”
Paige gazed at her in amazement. “You’ve never experienced one before, have you?”
“No,” Marianne admitted.
The technician, a very good-looking young man, stared at her and smiled. “You will be hooked after our masseuse finishes with you. You’re going to absolutely love it.”
She could only manage a feeble smile at the very hunky young man. She would love it? What man described a massage this way, unless he was gay, a gigolo, or both?
“Paul, my favorite masseuse is going to work on you,” Paige said as the chair vibrator relaxed her.
“Okay,” Marianne said meekly, knowing there was no escape. So she had a phobia of appearing naked or even near naked before a good-looking, young man.
“Remember you wanted to try new things,” Paige reminded her.
“And I am,” Marianne said with determination she didn’t quite feel. “It’s just that no other man besides my ex-husband has seen me naked.”
Paige jerked into an up-right position, laughing out loud. She almost kicked the technician at her feet. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope,” Marianne said, noticing that her own technician had ducked his head, a smile on his face. “Okay, so I’m not a woman of the twenty-first century. Remember I’ve been married for most of my adult life.”
“Well, after today, more than one man will have seen parts of your body. And Paul will most certainly get all your kinks worked out and not even care that you are a naked massage virgin.”
Twenty minutes later, Marianne would have preferred to dance around a bar in her underwear rather than lie here and wait for the masseuse. Maybe some women didn’t mind getting naked with just anyone, but let’s face it, she no longer had the body of a twenty-one year old. Age had left subtle reminders that forty-one was rushing at her like a freight train.
A knock on the door startled her. “Mrs. Larson, are you ready?”
She swallowed, and made sure that the sheet was firmly wrapped around her naked body.
“Come in,” she called weakly.
The door opened and her heart slammed in her throat and her jaw clenched like a trap door. Standing before her, looking like a male dancer, was her masseuse in his Egyptian costume, his pecs standing at attention, his blue eyes gleaming in amusement.
“I will make certain that the sheet covers you everywhere but where I’m working. Would you like a happy ending with your massage?”
What in the world was a happy ending? It sounded nice. She was here, she should just experience it.
“Sure,” she said.
“I promise you’ll leave here feeling completely relaxed. Let’s begin.”
It was all she could do to keep from squinting her eyes closed. At the feel of his touch, she jumped, and he made clucking noises. “Relax, you are too tight.”
Yeah, she was way tight. Whatever Paige was paying him, he was going to more than earn his money if he could get her to relax.
His large, warm hands gently, but firmly, began to massage her neck and shoulders, his fingers kneading tightened muscles. When was the last time a man’s hands had caressed her body? When was the last time someone had given her skin and muscles this much attention?
When was the last time a man’s touch was so focused on her and her pleasure? Only her?
She sighed and the tension slowly left her body. She soon forgot about the dimples in her butt, and the unease regarding her biology test on Monday and the English paper due next week disappeared.
All that mattered was the way his hands were working out all the kinks in her neck. Slowly his fingers wound down her back and by the time he got to her buttocks, she felt like a limp noodle that didn’t care what he was doing as long as he continued.
Very carefully he spread a sheet over her legs and pulled the first sheet up to cover her back a
nd shoulders. He was kind to think about her modesty while he continued working his magic on her muscles. And when he bent over her, she could smell the sweet scent of oil that lingered around the two of them.
As the masseuse kneaded her slick oiled skin, her mind turned to her good-looking landlord and she couldn’t help but wonder how his big hands would feel on her flesh. Could he make her feel this good? A small moan slipped through her lips.
“Am I hurting you?” the masseuse asked.
“Oh, no,” she sighed. She would never tell the man that small moan was the source of a much larger pent-up emotion. The lack of sex and a really good orgasm had caused enough pressure to build inside her to solve the energy crisis.
Not to mention the man’s touch on her skin. How could she have forgotten the simple pleasure of touch? Her insides were beginning to turn into a warm liquid mush as Paul’s hands moved down her legs, touching her in ways that left her hungering for more.
“If you will roll over onto your back, I will finish.”
With the sheet covering her, she rolled over onto her back and dreamed of tossing the sheet aside and pulling him down on top of her. She imagined his shock, and the feel of his body crushing hers.
She wanted to leave her eyes open and watch the way his hands stroked her, but something about gazing into his eyes while he touched her frightened her. What if he realized the feel of his hands excited her? What if he realized that only a slight touch in the right spot would have her spiraling over the edge with the best orgasm she’d experienced in a year? Correction. The only orgasm she’d come close to in a year.
She squinted her eyes shut, trying not to think about climaxing. Trying to remain calm and keep her breathing from making that raspy noise that was present during lovemaking, she focused on math problems, hoping they would keep her from spiraling out of control.
She thought of her biology class and the textbook she’d recently read. Not working. A grocery list? Nope, lettuce and tomatoes had never been sexier.
And then his hands skimmed her pelvic area, his fingers lightly touching her sex and she sat straight up on the table. Moist heat flamed between her legs, like a warning siren. Another touch and she would be crying out his name and moaning like a banshee.
Secrets, Lies, and Online Dating: Three Generations Learn to Love Again (Women's Fiction) Page 8