by Tysche Dwai
Now his penis shot up in straight attention. Damn his cock. It wasn’t going to be satisfied. Just the sound of her voice turned him on. If what she wrote in her emails—which were anything but sexy since neither wrote about their personal feelings—left him hard, hot and bothered, then being next to her, watching and listening to her would kill him. Touching her—if he got the chance—would be like dying and going to heaven. He wanted to make love to her so badly at the moment that listening to her talk and ignoring his raging hormones was almost impossible.
“Hey, Jenny, hang on to that surprise. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Deal?”
“Deal, cowboy.” And with that sexy little promise, she hung up.
His hard-on strained against the towel and once again, his body took over his brain. Giving a groan, he laid back, placed the towel over his lap and slipped a hand beneath. His hand pumped, and in less than a minute, he’d satisfied himself at least to the point where he could get dressed in reasonable comfort.
“Damn, that woman is going to drain me dry before I even get inside her.”
“So what’s the surprise?”
Jenny barely got into the extended cab Dodge before Neal asked. “Patience, dude,” she admonished as she carefully placed her purse on the floor by her feet and laid a wrapped package the size of a small book on the seat behind her. “All good things come to him who waits.” She patted his arm in commiseration.
“Promise?”
She got the impression that his request for a promise concerned more than the surprise awaiting him after breakfast. “Humm, we’ll see,” was all she said.
Ready to try a new place to eat, they ventured into the first place that appealed to them. The waitress brought breakfast then disappeared. She only showed up again three times—twice for coffee and once to bring the bill. Otherwise, she wasn’t as friendly as the waitress at the diner where they met. Over eggs, bacon and pancakes, they discussed the latest book both had been reading before they met. They disagreed about a movie Jenny saw in the theatre and Neal saw on DVD. Neal brought up a new site on yahoo for RPGs and suggested they try it. Neither brought up why they were in Childress, Texas.
When they finished, Jenny suggested they make their way to a small park she’d spotted the day before. The wind had lain, and the sun had warmed the temperatures to the lower seventies. “Nice day to be outside,” she commented as they found a table. She left her purse in the locked truck but carried the small package. When they sat at the concrete table, facing each other, she held the gift up before him.
“I remember when we first started emailing. We’d finished the RPG. It was a western, and I had a blast playing. We’d gotten each other’s email addresses, and I wrote to you first. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were a guy or a girl.” She smiled when he shook his head. “Before long, you sent a poem. I cried before I even finished reading it. It was that beautiful. Then you got into the habit of sending them. Once a week. I counted on those to start my week. Every Sunday night I checked my email to see if it had come yet. Sometimes I went to bed before the poem arrived. But the hope that you’d sent another always got me up and going the next morning.” Jenny lost focus for a minute while she thought about those poems—hundreds of them by now. Such grace with words from such a large man. “You have written about every subject under the sun.” She graciously did not point out that he was as red as a beet by now. “I saved them all...did you know that?”
“Really? Why for heaven’s sake?” Her collecting his thoughts translated into poems made no sense.
“Neal, those were the things you’d been thinking about that day or that week. Each one had meaning. I often asked you why you wrote about the topic and more than once, you said that something happened to you or a friend or around the ranch, and it led to you putting words to paper. They were and still are important to me. In fact, I got your latest one just before I left.” She held the book out to him. When he latched on to it, she held it between them for a second. “I hope you like this.”
Uncertain what the present contained, Neal seemed to open it gingerly. When the wrapping came off, he held a book. Turning it over, he noted the rich brown leather cover. Tooled into the front cover, he read ‘Poems by Neal Franks.’ Opening the cover, he saw the front page mirrored the outer title on the cover. Next came a page with the name of a Dallas printing company. He read a dedication on the next page: For Neal, who means the world to me—Jenny
Jenny watched in fascination, as Neal got lost in the small book. Each page turned slowly, and he read as if each word meant the world to him as well. Did his eyes just water? She noted how he kept them on the book when he read the dedication page. Silence grew heavy.
“I kept them all, dated them when I typed them up for the printer.”
“Jenny, I don’t...” Whatever he wanted to say seemed stuck in his throat. “I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you saved every one of those things.”
“I’ve never been good at expressing myself, but you are. I wanted you to know how special those poems are. So...” she let her words trail off.
“Thank you so very much.” Neal leaned over the table and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips.
After a gulp and a reminder to breathe, Jenny said, “You’re welcome.”
Afraid of what might come next, she slid off the hard bench and stood next to him. Holding out one hand, she asked, “Would you read some poems to me as we walk?”
For a long few seconds, he gazed at her, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he quipped, “Walk and talk at the same time I can do. Walk and read might be a challenge. Maybe you might want to hold my arm so I don’t fall over.” He stood, book in one hand, elbow cocked out for her to take. “Remember that western RPG we played? Sheriff Garrett would have done this with Miss Lottie.”
Almost afraid to get closer to Neal, wanting to just as much as not, Jenny realized this was a perfect opportunity to do so without committing to anything more intimate. “Why you’re absolutely right.” She gave him a coy smile. “Lead on, Sheriff,” and she tucked her hand into the crock of his elbow.
“You sure are looking sweet today, Miss Lottie.” Neal led her off across the grassy park under towering oak trees.
Jenny patted his arm at the flattery. “My, Sheriff, you do say the nicest things. Now read to me?” She batted her eyelashes shamelessly. “Please?”
“Certainly, Miss Lottie.” And the ‘sheriff’ escorted his lady while he read poems in his gravelly voice.
It just so happened that the movie 300 was playing at the local theater. Neal wanted to see it badly, and Jenny said she’d go with him if he promised she could bury her face against his arm if it got too bloody and if he promised not to laugh at her. When the moviegoers poured out about ten-thirty, Jenny shivered at the unexpected chill in the air.
“That was about the bloodiest show I’ve ever seen,” Jenny commented as they held hands going out through the crowd to the truck.
And the love scene had your name written all over it, Neal thought. It didn’t help that the young couple behind them commented that the scene should win an Academy Award for how great it was. Neal imagined how Jenny would look like that, spread out and loved to distraction. During that particular scene, he noticed Jenny never once closed her eyes. She’d stayed glued to the oversized screen the entire time. She licked her lips as the actors played their parts. For his part, Neal squirmed discretely. His cock swelled until the zipper probably left tracks in the skin. Jenny squeezed his hand so hard he desperately wished she would squeeze some other part of his anatomy. Sitting in the muted blue light of a movie screen was no place to jack off, so he concentrated on the bloody parts of the movie and the fact that all three hundred Spartans died.
Once outside, the cool air revived him to some extent while he held Jenny’s warm hand. However, his imagination once again took hold. What’s going through her fertile mind? Her ability to role-play outranked h
is by a long shot. She proved that over and over when they first met in the month-long RPG. Lord, I wish she’d say something.
Neal held the truck door open and made sure Jenny was in safely before trotting around to the driver’s side. “Want some coffee or anything?”
“Not this late at night. Thanks, but I’d never get to sleep.”
By unspoken consent, he headed to her place. But all the while, his mind whirled. The love scene only fueled his desire to be intimate with her. But he had no idea what she thought about that. Neither spoke until they stood at her doorway.
He couldn’t stand it any longer. The tension surrounded them like a hot shower. “Jenny...”
Before he could say anything though, she put one finger across his mouth. Neal wondered if she could read his mind. Her eyes glowed in the reflected porch light at her door. Her gaze wandered his face even as her finger slid to one side and trailed a hot line of desire down the side of his jaw. He took a breath, ready to blurt out his thoughts, his need. But she cut her glance back to his, caught his and shook her head.
“G’night. See you tomorrow?”
Caught like a spider in the web of her soft gaze, he nodded. The door closed slowly in his face.
Jenny overslept the next morning and wasn’t even dressed when Neal showed up at her door. The minute she opened it, she sensed he picked up right where he left off the night before. She knew he wanted to say something important, but she wasn’t ready to hear it just yet. If ever.
Burned by her late husband’s bitter attitude and struggling through the tragedy of his death, she was wary of letting anyone too close again. Somehow, she knew he wanted her heart.
A cool Texas spring breeze brushed past her as she stepped back for him to enter the room. When he stood beside her unmade bed, her room looked so much smaller. She smiled.
“What’s so funny?” He tipped his cap back and gave her a big grin.
“Just noticing how much smaller any place looks when you’re around. Nice though.” She shut the door but shivered when the cool air passed her again.
“Come here.” As casually as you please, Neal pulled her into a warm embrace. Jenny couldn’t help but push in closer; she really was chilled. “Feels good.” She heard the rumble of his words through his chest wall.
Afraid of the possibilities, she patted his back where her hand lay inside his jacket and pulled away far enough to smile up at him. The naked need in his glance scared her. “That did feel good, but it’s time I got dressed.” One step back and she feared he’d hold on to her. But he didn’t. However, he seemed to vibrate with unspoken words. That bothered her as much as the need.
“I’ll be right back.” She scooped up her jeans, shirt, panties and bra and stepped into the bathroom. Once safely away from his penetrating gaze, she leaned against the sink and closed her eyes. A deep sigh rattled through her, and she opened her eyes to look at her image in the mirror.
“Oh girl, are you in trouble.” She ran one hand over her face in a tired motion of frustration. “When did this friendship turn into something more personal? When did I begin seeing Neal as more than an email buddy? I can’t do what he wants. Please God, don’t let him say a word. Everything is going so good. Please Neal, don’t fuck it up now.” Her image merely mouthed the words back at her. The pain she saw reflected there reached all the way to her heart.
She dressed slowly, not anxious to face the man on the other side of the door. Sometime over the past three years, he came to mean the world to her, but he didn’t know everything about her. Her secret could make a difference to him; he was an old-fashioned kind of guy. She could deny him nothing, but this one thing. Safe in friendship, lost in love...she dreaded even thinking about the word.
Ready to pretend the day was the same as the one before, that they would explore the local area and he might read more poetry for her, she pulled the door open with her make-up bag tucked beneath her arm. “Ready to go riding some more?” She tried to sound cheerful as she pulled a chair out and sat down. From her bag, she pulled out a small round mirror and propped it up. She then pulled out a few items of make-up.
“You don’t need all that, Jenny.” Neal came to stand beside her chair.
She could not look him in the eye so she caught his glance in the glass. “I’ll just put on a bit of mascara and maybe a dab of eye shadow, if that’s all right. No sense in scaring the locals.” She grinned and sighed in relief when he did too. Working fast, she applied a light touch of green shadow followed by mascara. A quick zip and her make-up bag laid closed on the table between them. “How’s that for fast?”
His chuckle helped relieve some of her stress. “I never knew a woman could put on that stuff so fast. I’m impressed.” He raised his brows and lifted his shoulders as he spread his hands. “But then you really don’t need all that goop. You’re beautiful just like you are.”
In a heartbeat, the stress returned ten-fold, leaving her breathless and hot. But she caught herself in time to acknowledge his compliment instead of waving it off like she used to do. “Thank you, sir.” She rose and stepped away from him, his presence raising her blood pressure and leaving her flushed and unsure. In order to keep busy, she detoured around him and grabbed the bedspread.
To her surprise, he stepped to the other side of the bed and helped her straighten the sheets then pull the cover up and add the pillows. “We work well together,” he commented, but now he was the one not meeting her gaze.
She stood up, ready to talk him into leaving the suddenly close-feeling room, but he looked up with such a solemn expression that she now wondered if something was wrong. “Neal, what is it?” Unable to help herself, she rounded the corner of the bed and put her hand on his arm, concern for him deep in her soul.
When he sat on the edge of the bed without a word, she stepped closer. At last, he looked up, such sorrow on his face that her heart almost broke.
“What is it? You can tell me.”
He caught her hand, squeezed it but didn’t let go. “I know. You know all about me. You already know I’m gonna tell you what’s on my mind.”
She nodded. She did know his way of thinking, how he gave considerable thought to each question she asked and everything he said.
When he patted one of his long legs, she wondered what he really wanted. “Come here, sweetheart. Sit right here. I need to talk to you, and it would be better if I could have you near while I do it.”
Cautiously, she rounded his knee and let him seat her on his leg. Strong muscles covered the long bone she felt beneath her rear.
He draped one arm around her waist to secure her position then sighed. “Where to start?”
As curious yet concerned as she was, she couldn’t help but quip, “At the beginning?” She bent a little to catch his eye and give him a cheeky grin.
He chuckled and squeezed her waist. “Quiet, woman, I have serious things to say, and you being funny ain’t helping.” But it must have because she felt that arm around her back relax a little. “We met three years ago on the ‘net, and since then we’ve learned all about each other. I consider you my best friend. In the whole world.” He would not look at her but stared off across the room, his gaze fixed as if he were reading a prepared speech.
She got the impression he might have practiced what he wanted to say. But she said nothing and gave no indication of what she thought of him.
“Jenny, when you look at me, what do you see?”
His question shocked her. Neal, with a case of vanity? She paused that thought. Never. Neal, with a case of worry? That’s more like it. He’s worried about something and wants to know what I think. And then the realization of what he asked her sank in. Only the truth would do, even if it undid her.
Her body relaxed as she brought her hand up to rest against his smooth cheek. He’d shaved and that spread of skin was as smooth as glass, if a bit weather worn and deeply tanned. Her gaze roamed his face, noted deep set eyes touched with a haze of worry, ears that stuck
out a bit from his head, jowls that sagged a little along the back of the jaw line, eyebrows that grew wild in places. But she also noted the lovely color of those eyes, the long lashes that framed them and the sweet curve to his top lip. He was as homely as a worn weathered post, tall and narrow, tested by the elements and not found wanting. But he didn’t know that, only she did. Perhaps it was time to eliminate his worst fears.
She wrapped one arm around his neck and settled comfortably on his leg, though she did not snuggle next to him. A half turn and she faced him. In as honest and gentle a way as she could, she told Neal what she saw. “I see...” she spoke slowly as her eyes traveled his face again, “...a man who has aged with grace and worked hard for these gray hairs. I see a man some women might pass up as not handsome enough.” His shoulders slumped. She gave him a gentle smile and nudge. “But they’d be passing up a treasure. You’re an intelligent person with a great sense of humor and a deep desire to make life better than when you found it.” She ran her hand over his face and smoothed one finger down his nose. “You are not what I’d call handsome by the world’s standards.” His gaze dropped as if she were turning him away. “But you know what, that isn’t what matters. To me, you are as handsome as that hunk on the calendar. And your heart,” Jenny patted the pocket over that organ. “Your heart is the best.”
He sighed, toyed with the material over her knee then asked without looking at her. “You don’t think I’m old and ugly?”
Oh Lord, is that what’s bothering him? Old? Not hardly. Ugly? I don’t think so.
“Neal, for crying out loud, I’m older than you.” She flounced on his knee, clearly put out with the question.
“But that’s not the same.” He tried to argue with her.
“Why not?”
“’Cause you’re beautiful!” The man genuinely sounded surprised that she didn’t know this.
“I’m no more beautiful than you are ugly. Neal, you are not a spring chicken. So what? Neither am I! No big deal! And you might not have women falling all over you because you’re so handsome, but I happen to like the way you look.” Her level of frustration rose to an all-time high.