MAGPIE

  Calling my thoughts back to the present, I continued, “A bike probably feels very different physically, but I think we’re talking the same thing—emotionally and spiritually.”

  I shifted in my chair, feeling a little vulnerable having just expressed something very personal. It seemed Brett’s ease had somehow rubbed off on me.

  With a sly grin turning at one corner of his mouth, Brett asked, “Want to go for a ride?”

  “Probably not, unless you have an extra helmet.” I wasn’t about to go anywhere on a bike without a helmet. I was still “death shy;” probably will be until I die.

  “You can use mine,” he said, and before I could protest, he got up and went inside to pay the tab.

  I don’t know a lot about motorcycles, but I do know what I like. We walked halfway down the block and came upon one of the hottest looking bikes I’d ever seen. A cruiser type, I noticed it was a Triumph when I walked up to it.

  “I thought Triumphs were cars.” I regretted my remark as soon as it escaped my mouth.

  What a ditz, I thought.

  “You’re not the first. Here, put this on.” Brett handed me a Darth Vader-looking helmet with a tinted screen and full facial coverage. He noticed that I was struggling to put it on and came over to help.

  “Here you go…What a fox!” This time, his juvenile comment made me laugh. I had to admit I was having a terrific time.

  We rode around the neighborhood, slowly at first, so I could get used to it. Brett walked me through the rules of riding “bitch,” and once he got a sense that I had it, we took off west to Santa Fe Drive where he turned it up a few notches. The wind on my skin was thrilling, and I giggled inside the dark chamber of the helmet. We drove for about thirty minutes until he turned around and headed back to The Grille. I was sad to see our spontaneous trip come to an end, but I didn’t let my disappointment show as I hefted myself off the seat.

  “Wow, Brett, thank you.” I was still reeling with the thrill of the ride.

  “Want a ride home?” He said with the same sly grin he gave earlier.

  Probably his signature smile...

  “Hmm, not sure,” I said, instantly bemoaning my answer.

  “I don’t bite, Mags. It’s just a ride.”

  True, I mused.

  As if reading my mind, he continued, “And I’ll come get you in the morning to bring you back to your car. How’s that for a gentlemanly gesture?”

  Smiling, I put his helmet back on and gave him my address. We pulled into my driveway, maneuvering to an expert stop. Luckily, I’d remembered to leave the porch light on. Some deep, primal part of me took over, and stepping off Brett’s bike, I asked if he’d like to come in. He didn’t hesitate and walked along side me, stepping back only to let me through the door. Cody greeted us but jumped back on the sofa, somehow sensing the tension between the stranger and me.

  Turning to ask Brett if he wanted anything to drink, he grabbed my arm and swung me around. He found my mouth, and kissed me hard. I caught my breath and kissed him back with furious heat. Brett began exploring me through my clothes, grabbing my ass and squeezing my breasts. He ran his hand between my legs, heat instantly racing through my body. Lingering on his muscular arms, I slowly moved my hands along Brett’s back, sensing tension that aroused me unexpectedly. I stepped back, tracing my hands along his hips to the zipper of his jeans, where I felt his hard cock straining against me. Breaking away, I led Brett to the bedroom. He ripped off his shirt and was unzipping his jeans when I took over. Sliding my hand down his snug boxers, I began to stroke him and coaxed him out of his pants.

  Brett wasted no time and carefully pulled my sweater over my head. Capris came off next as he kissed and licked each leg as he went. Inhaling deeply, I reached for his body, though he kept his distance, teasing me with each move. Finally, he stood and backed me up to the bed, removing my camisole in one smooth motion. He found my right breast and took it in his mouth, pinching the other nipple while grinding against my thigh.

  I couldn’t breathe. My head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the beer or motorcycle ride. My arms had gone limp, and I instinctively spread my legs. Licking his way down the center of my belly, Brett tilted my hips just as his tongue found my pussy. Muttering unintelligibly, I closed my eyes. I completely surrendered to the magic of Brett’s mouth and savored every lick, his tongue investigating each swollen, throbbing fold. My hips began to move involuntarily, my breathing intensifying with each pivot. Purring turned to screaming and Brett took me with his entire mouth, sucking and pulling away, giving me a clitoral blow job. I began to cum in slow motion. I felt every sensation from head to toe—tingling, burning, throbbing. Brett yielded to the force of my orgasm allowing me to cum long and hard, screaming incoherently. Squeezing my breasts, I pinched my nipples hard to make the orgasm last longer.

  Minutes passed before I could open my eyes. Gazing back at me was a man who had given me an erotic gift, something I thought I’d never experience again. Gently, he lifted himself on top of me and slid his engorged cock inside, pumping hard and fast until he came in short bursts of ecstasy. A few minutes later, Brett flipped me over and began fucking me from behind. Long, deep thrusts took my breath away, and I began to shake. He moaned deeply. His thrusts were more powerful than ever and within minutes we came again, both of us falling over onto the bed, drenched in sweat. We fucked like maniacs that night, hungry for something that felt out of reach.

  Thirst finally overcame me. Getting up to go to the kitchen, I looked back at the man lying in my bed, an image I hadn’t seen in seven years, and a wave of emotion ran through me. Fun times ahead, Maggie. Making my way to the fridge for a glass of lemon water, I glanced at my purse, which I’d tossed on the floor near the front door. Curiosity got the best of me, and I pulled my phone from the outside pocket of my bag. Four missed texts from Daniel. Ignoring them, I put my phone away. June’s longest day had turned into one hell of a night and I wasn’t about to let anything—or anyone—fuck it up.

  ***

  Serenity didn’t manifest during the month of June. Renewal, on the other hand, had. Throwing caution to the wind, Brett and I rekindled our relationship with playful afternoons, sleepy weekend mornings and erotic, sleepless nights. My lust for life (and sex) had ramped, nearing full throttle. I couldn’t have been more satisfied.

  The Varsity Grille became our hangout, and we managed to snag our “first date” table more times than not. More confident on a motorcycle, I bought a pair of beefy motorcycle boots and wore them proudly. I had enough t-shirts and jeans in my closet to look the part of Brett’s ol’ lady, a secret identity I kept from everyone, even Daniel. Our passion had no bounds. We fooled around like teenagers in movie theatres. We rarely texted; instead we talked on the phone or met in person. Ours was a tangible relationship; unlike the virtual, emotionally pixilated one that I had with Daniel.

  I felt so alive with Brett, like I’d been given a second chance at life. There was a part of me, very deep inside, that began to regret flying my grandkids out in the middle of the summer amidst my torrid romance. The thought of two weeks without Brett was excruciating, and I prayed that the days of June would last forever. Still, big girls like me know fairy tales don’t last…

  CHAPTER 5

  Dependence Day

  People move to Colorado for the weather, among other things. Hot July days followed by cool, breezy nights keep them here. Occasional rain showers in the afternoon last long enough to cool things off, freeing the air from suffocating humidity. Just a few innocuous insects buzz about, eliminating the need for screened porches. People play, work and eat outdoors; some even sleep outside. A couple of times last year, I fell asleep on my double chaise under a huge ash tree that shades most of my backyard with its massive trunk and thick canopy of almond-shaped leaves. It’s easy ending a long day in the garden wrapped in an old quilt, sipping tea under that living treasure. I can’t imagine a better place to live.

  The twins were scheduled
to arrive around noon on July 1. The day before, I’d gone through the house, making sure all was in order. The guest room needed to be set up to accommodate two seven-year-olds, which meant packing up ceramic knickknacks, glass picture frames and other breakable items, and replacing them with stuffed animals, books and puzzles. Several years ago, I’d purchased a nightlight with cut out images of dragonflies, illuminating the ceiling with soothing blue tones. I’d pulled that out and set it on the nightstand. Timmy and Lisbeth preferred to sleep together, making the full bed perfect for the inseparable duo. I’d picked up a set of colorful sheets that matched their color scheme back home, along with a matching comforter. From start to finish, I’d spent just a little over an hour preparing their home-away-from-home.

  Celebrating the Fourth of July with the twins left me feeling tentative; it was an exhilarating holiday for children but a painful reminder for me. Still, I vowed to keep my grief at bay and scoured the paper for a parade that would delight the kiddos. Cities and towns across the Centennial State boasted of the best Fourth of July festivities, so I took my time perusing the special Holiday section of the newspaper, hoping to find one that would be more traditional, less commercial (or worse, political). Well into the list, I became infuriated by ads depicting men and women riding in convertibles, obnoxious slogans dripping from graphic banners that ran across the top of the page. In the end, I settled on downtown Denver’s parade simply because it was closest. Ignoring politicians had become a national pastime, and I was no stranger to it.

  Sipping a glass of wine after a long day of housework, I shifted my thoughts to Brett. And Daniel. Erotic romps consumed my free time, leaving me with little energy for anything else. As my local fling with Brett heated up, I began to wonder if my virtual affair with Daniel had fizzled. Then I received a text from him that took my breath away,

  9:17 PM

  DANIEL: Missing u

  MAGS: Hi!

  DANIEL: :)

  DANIEL: Missing me?

  MAGS: Yes, very much

  DANIEL: What’s been occupying your time, sexy?

  MAGS: Cocky jock

  DANIEL: Really?!

  MAGS: Yes, jealous?

  DANIEL: No, horny

  MAGS: Not mad?

  DANIEL: Mags, I live almost a continent away, of course I’m not mad

  I was a little bothered that he wasn’t,

  MAGS: Ok, good

  DANIEL: Was it?

  MAGS: Was it what?

  DANIEL: Good

  MAGS: Very

  DANIEL: Care to share?

  MAGS: What?

  DANIEL: The sordid details

  MAGS: Where shall I begin?

  DANIEL: At the very beginning, of course

  MAGS: May require a call

  DANIEL: Dialing now…

  Picking up on the first ring, I said, “Hi, Danny Boy.” After some urging, I began describing steamy scenes between Brett and me, shifting my tone from schoolmarm to sex kitten—make that a jungle cat.

  “Hey, naughty girl. So tell me, what have you been up to, into, and tell me about what has been into you,” Daniel’s voice coated my body with tingling sensations that felt like pinpricks.

  “Cock, lots of cock. And tongue, so much licking and sucking—a delicious blend of cum and pussy juice.”

  “Yours?”

  “All mine, though two pussies would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

  “Tell me all about it, don’t leave out a thing.” It was apparent that Daniel wanted me to take over, provide a running monologue of my sexual escapades with Brett so he could sit back, stroke his cock, and cum to images of me fucking some other guy’s brains out. Ordinarily not my strong suit, I’d developed quite a flair for storytelling, and it thrilled me that I could captivate Daniel. For once, I was in control.

  ***

  I’d asked Katie to come with me to DIA, an ever-expanding international airport situated east of downtown. Denver had annexed fifty-four square miles from a neighboring city to develop its vision for a twenty-first century airport. It was a thirty-minute drive from the Denver metro area, unless rush hour had consumed all concrete arteries, making it more like an hour. I didn’t mind making the trip alone, actually preferred it. But I was worried that the twins would be anxious having flown unaccompanied and might want company; they adored their great-auntie who adored them right back.

  Katie’s place was a stone’s throw from mine. She’d fallen in love with the house Jack and I bought right after we were married and swore she’d find something for herself in the neighborhood. She finally did a few years later, making it a five-minute walk between our houses; less than a minute drive. We’d grown to respect each other’s privacy—a good thing, since Brett and I had been seeing each other four or five times a week, usually at my place. However, whenever we scheduled a shopping trip or an excursion to DIA, the quarter-mile trek was most convenient.

  I texted Katie when I woke,

  Today, 6:07 AM

  MAGS: Morning sunshine

  KATIE: Really? 6 effin oclock? What time is the flight?

  MAGS: Noon

  KATIE: Dammit mags

  MAGS: Just chking to see if u r still on

  KATIE: Better chk to see if u r still sane

  MAGS: LOL, pick u up around 11, k?

  KATIE: Better have my latte waiting for me, going back to bed

  MAGS: Ta-ta

  KATIE: What??

  MAGS: Nothing

  KATIE: U r certifiable – latr

  I’d used Daniel’s favorite farewell without even thinking. Luckily, Katie was half asleep and didn’t call me out for using something she’d never heard before. We were very close as children and knew each other better than anyone else; a slight change in behavior would stand out like an elephant in a petting zoo.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I noticed Cody patiently waiting for his breakfast, so I poured a heaping scoop of kibble. As I thought about what I wanted for breakfast, a pair of panties, lying rumpled on the dining-room table, caught my eye. I smiled, recalling the night before when Brett and I fucked up one side of the house and down the other. I’d made a mental note to go through each room with a fine-tooth comb. My stomach interrupted my thoughts with a loud growl, and I opened the fridge. An increased libido, courtesy of Daniel and Brett, left me less interested in food, which meant I had nothing in my fridge. Slamming the door shut, I headed out for a scone and a latte.

  On the way, Brett called, “Hey Mags, excited to pick up the kiddos?”

  I was touched that he remembered. “Hi Brett. Yeah, I really am! Have the house all squared away and looking forward to two crazy weeks with my rowdy clan. Guess what I found this morning?” I giggled softly.

  “Dunno, what?” Suddenly, Brett seemed preoccupied.

  “My black lace panties, the pair you so expertly removed when we were in the dining room…” I said coyly, apparently unto deaf ears. “Brett, you there?”

  “Hang on just a sec, ok?” His tone had turned from cheerful to irritated; not with me, but with whatever had stolen his attention. I hadn’t experienced this side of Brett before and was perturbed.

  Moments later, Brett said, “Sorry Mags, I got distracted with something.” And then I heard an angry voice in the distance. A woman’s voice.

  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. My mood instantly soured, and I said, “Something or someone?” Stunned, I waited for Brett’s reply.

  “Mags, it’s nothing. An old flame keeps coming around, and she just doesn’t get that I’m not interested. That’s it, really.” I was struck how swiftly Brett could move from cheerful to angry…to hospitable.

  Not sure I wanted to know the answer, I asked, “How old of a flame, Brett, how long ago did it go out?” Anger brewing, I waited for his reply.

  Shifting smoothly to contrite, Brett said, “I dunno, couple of weeks maybe?”

  I quickly did the math and determined that his attempt to extinguish the flame occurred after we’d gone out t
he first time. I was “seeing” Daniel, sure, but a text message was not the same as having someone inside you. Or was it?

  “For fuck’s sake, Brett. Okay, I get it. Wow. Am I a fool or what?” Completely exasperated, I said goodbye and ended the call. I shut the ringer off too, anticipating an apology call, which came seconds later. Ignoring it, I stuffed the phone into my pocket.

  No longer interested in a latte, I went to the market to pick up a few things for breakfast. As I walked through the automated doors, I realized that I hadn’t thought about filling the fridge for the kids, so my shopping list went from breakfast fixins for me to an inventory any commercial kitchen would envy. I was able to keep thoughts of Brett at bay, at least for the time being, and focused on the fun I’d have cooking for my grandkids.

  Several hundred dollars and five shopping bags later, I made my way home. It was nine-thirty, leaving me a little over an hour to unpack the groceries, shower, dab on a bit of make-up, and pick up Katie. Still, thoughts of Brett crept up every few minutes, but I promptly shoved them back—he didn’t deserve better real estate than that.

  You’re full of shit, Maggie.

  Laced with hypocrisy, my reaction to Brett was irrational, and my long-distance secret toyed with my conscience.

  “Fuck you, Brett, you motherfucking cocksucker!”

  Swearing was the salve I typically applied when I felt hurt or betrayed and, just then, I needed several applications. As I ranted in the shower, I had a sudden, random thought of Daniel. I smiled, thinking about how often Daniel came to mind while showering. Not only was he an instrument for sexual pleasure, but he’d also become an emotional refuge, a place where I could go to avoid pain and suffering. Holy shit, was I an addict?

  Knock it off, Mags, no time for this…

  I reluctantly stepped out of the shower and moved to the bedroom where I’d laid out clothes, just in case I ran out of time, which I had. Ten minutes later, I was on the road, headed toward Katie’s house. Timmy and Lisbeth would be in my arms in a few hours, joy and laugher filling the house once more.