Daring Young Man

by Ellwood, Leigh

  Jake said nothing, but stopping rocking and fixed his gaze on the activity across the street. His young neighbor had executed a landing worthy of an Olympic gymnast and was now swinging his girl by the waist, dancing in circles as she whooped with delight. Yes, that pretty much happened with him and Cindy all those years ago. "You hear me, Dad?" J.J. prodded. "I did," Jake said coldly. "You have seen these pictures to know it was Lauren?" "Oh, yeah." The words were drawn out and punctuated with suggestive laughter.

  "You know, if this office job thing doesn't work, she can always fall back on—" "That's enough." Jake rose and stretched, searching his memory for yesterday's conversation with Lauren. She had mentioned an indiscretion, something that shouldn't have been brought to school...but suggestive pictures of herself? This girl who used to buy penny candy and ice cream sodas from him? He couldn't see it himself, and didn't think he wanted to see, but continue to know Lauren for the sweet young girl he had known all her life. Why she would consent to have nude photos taken was a mystery.

  Also, it was none of his business, and as such it had no bearing on her employment at Jake's. It couldn't, she needed work, and how could he take back the hiring after yesterday's tearful scene? Jake was certain there was a logical explanation behind such photos. An old gift for her former husband, perhaps? An old disc that got mixed up with some new ones? That had to be it.

  "You know she's got the hots for you, right?" J.J. said when Jake voiced his sentiment.

  "What?" Hots? Getting the hots was for matinee idol worship and teenagers. "Did Marlene Robeson tell you that, too?" "She didn't have to. Lauren did." "That's ridiculous. Lauren's your age. She can have any man in town and doesn't need to look my way. And why would she tell you anything?" Flattering it might have been, but a woman of such beauty and youth wouldn't look twice at an old, mourning geezer in coveralls. And J.J. thought he had lost his mind!

  "She didn't say it with words, Dad. You don't see how google-eyed she gets when you talk to her in the store? I swear, I saw her watching you from the produce section once...what she did with the bag of carrots she was holding could be considered a misdemeanor in some states."

  "I have had enough of this conversation, son. It would nice for once to sit down with one of my sons on a nice night like this, and drink iced tea and talk about baseball or the weather, or even argue about the war, but I guess as long I'm intent on working and hiring undesirables that isn't going to happen. I'm going to bed."

  Jake started for the front door, but J.J. didn't budge. "It's just after seven," he told his father.

  "I'm tired, son. Sick and tired." The outer screen door creaked, setting Jake's teeth on edge.

  "Okay," J.J. said, "we can talk about something else if you like. Have you given any thought to dating again?"

  Jake closed the door, ignoring the louder creak that followed. Slowly he turned back to his son, interested to see that the young man appeared dead serious. "Come again?" "It's been over a year, Dad," J.J. said. "Don't you think it's time to jump back into the

  scene?" The scene? "Junior, I was never in the scene to begin with. Your mother was the only woman I ever dated, ever wanted to date, and ever will. I have no desire to jump into any 'scenes.' That part of my life is over."

  "Is it?" J.J. asked. "You're not too old to work, apparently. Who is to say some parts shouldn't stop working either?"

  "Junior..." Jake felt his embarrassment surface to his skin; he could swear the remaining liquid in the tumbler he held might start boiling from the transfer of heat. Just like his youngest to take the liberty of speaking so frankly to his father. J.J. had always been the blunt one, making his point whenever he chose, however he chose. A good quality to have as a real estate agent, maybe, but as a son... "You're only sixty, Dad." "That's right, I'm sixty." "Paul McCartney is in his sixties, Dad, and he still tours." "True, but I'm not Paul McCartney. You gonna bug him to retire, too?" J.J. sighed. "My point is, Dad, is that you're not old, and as you've said before you're not dead. I'd rather you enjoy what you've earned and not work so hard, but if you're going to work, why not spend what little leisure time you have left with somebody?" "I have you, Red, and the girls. That's enough." "We won't always be around, Dad," J.J. said. "We have lives, too. You should live yours with somebody who cares about you. Mom would want that."

  "Well, I wanted your Mom. Want your Mom, I don't want anybody else," Jake said, adamant. "And Paul McCartney might not have a problem remarrying, but I believe I'm too old to think about walking down the aisle again, even if that's what I wanted. Next time I walk down the aisle, it will be at your wedding."

  J.J's eye roll implied to Jake that both would be waiting a while for that event. "I didn't say remarry, Dad. Get a girlfriend, someone to have over for dinner or to a movie." "Overnight?" Jake raised an eyebrow, surprised to see his son didn't blush. "Why not, Dad?" "Who wants to be the girlfriend of a sixty-year-old man who isn't a handsome, millionaire rock and roll star?" As the words slipped past his lips, though, he knew J.J.'s answer. Marlene Robeson, overdressed for a few hours of accounting work. Lauren McKenna, fondling produce in time to her fantasies. Fine and good for them, but fantasies they would remain. Marlene and Lauren were great ladies, and they would find great men to take care of them. He would go to bed. Alone.

  And he did. With a curt goodnight and a promise to talk more in the morning, Jake crossed the threshold and locked the door behind him. Tomorrow, he decided. He would think about everything tomorrow, think of a way to discourage any overtures from any ladies who wanted to be in his life beyond the professional realm.

  He was a one-woman man, and that woman wouldn't be found in the produce section, or stalking around his office. Damn it all.

  * * * Sleep didn't come as easily as it did in the past, particularly when Cindy was still alive. Even during her lowest points of the illness, all Jake had to do was curl her frail body into his and close his eyes to instant dreams. He never worried about Cindy dying in the night, believing his touch and the beat of his heart transferred to hers, and could sustain her.

  Now, night magnified the loneliness, and morning enhanced the disappointment Jake felt every time he woke to find Cindy's side of the bed untouched. Well-meant suggestions were heeded and quickly discarded; hugging a body pillow and/or sleeping on Cindy's side offered only variety to his insomnia.

  Tonight, Jake eschewed variety for his favorite summer pajamas, the glass of seltzer by his bed, and the novel he had been half-heartedly reading. Eventually, he would drift off and wake what would seem like five minutes later, forced to live another day.

  Tonight, that sliver of rest would prove more difficult to come, if the noises outside his bedroom window were any indication. Jake liked to keep the window open when the weather was pleasant enough to permit it. Tonight's breeze had cooled to a comfortable temperature that betrayed the earlier humidity, and as Jake set down the dog-eared paperback and twisted in bed to see the commotion, he saw he wasn't the only one enjoying the respite.

  The teenaged lovers from across the street had yet to retire. Strike that, they had retired, right underneath the loping tree in the neighbor's front lawn. A full moon provided enough light to cast down on the tangle of denim limbs and breeze-blown hair as Jake maneuvered to a kneeling position against his headboard. He shouldn't watch, he knew, but the view granted him at the very least offered some distraction from insomnia.

  It certainly wouldn't cure it, however. The scene was too fascinating, Jake couldn't pull away. The illuminated torchieres on either end of the distant porch provided enough backlight to see the loving scene unfold. Though he couldn't quite make out words or facial expressions, he could imagine the ecstasy flitting across their faces as they coupled.

  The young man reclined his head and shoulders against the trunk of the tree, stretching long legs before him as the young women straddled his hips and rocked back on her sandaled feet. She seemed to be grinding her hips in a circular motion, as though urging an erection to te
nt the boy's sagging blue jeans. Slowly she thrashed and pumped, arching her back and neck in response to two curious hands disappearing underneath her tight T-shirt. She moved in a quiet, erotic rhythm, and seemed lost in her own pleasure.

  Jack watched as that rhythm paused long enough for her to lean forward and capture her lover in a kiss. His hip remained pinned to the headboard, his pajamas feeling suddenly tight.

  He looked down to find his cock standing at attention, its head peeking from underneath the loose elastic band of the cotton shorts, looking upward like it had good enough sense. This was incredible. How long had it been since he got a hard-on?

  It had been the last time he made love with Cindy, he knew. What was he going to do with this one? Jack off while spying on some teenaged tryst? The thought may as well have encouraged him to go limp. He wasn't a pervert; he had never even seen an X-rated movie or looked at a girlie magazine. He had Cindy, he never had to do those things.

  He had, of course, masturbated before, but to find relief in doing that he'd have to maintain the erection and think of something to keep him going. Since thinking of Cindy lately only saddened more than aroused him, it appeared he would have to ride out the discomfort.

  If only he could turn away. The distant light dimmed briefly as a discarded T-shirt flew from it owners hands. The girl was now unencumbered, the boy eager to pull himself from under her weight to take a nipple into his mouth. Her soft sigh of approval was carried over the breeze right to Jake's window, causing his cock to twitch.

  Abruptly he slammed down the sash. He now saw the reflection of his shocked face superimposed over the couple. And in the background, silhouetted against the doorway, a woman. "What are you looking at?" He twisted back around in bed, and time reversed forty years. The mattress bubbled hard underneath him, and springs screeched for oil as he shifted in place. Tiny flowers now dotted the surrounding wallpaper, becoming the room in which Jake and Cindy spent their wedding night.

  Cindy's long, auburn hair curled over her bare shoulders, hiding the thin straps of her full-length, satin gown. Crowned by the dim light from the bathroom, she looked positively angelic with her lips in full pout. Jake could only stare, amazed that the night he had dreamed of since the day they met finally arrived. She canted her head to one side, frowning. "What were you looking at outside?" "N-nothing. Just thought I heard a dog barking, is all." Jake slipped his hands under

  the sheets and gripped his bare thighs. He didn't want Cindy to see how badly they shook. He wore only his boxers. The room was cool for summer despite the weakening window unit opposite the bed. He felt his nipples tighten just looking at his new bride, detecting landmarks he would soon explore, barely visible underneath the sheer fabric.

  "Well," Cindy offered a playful grin as one strap, then the other, peeled away to allow the gown to cascade to the floor. "Why not look at me instead? I'm sure I'm more interesting."

  Oh, yeah . That, Cindy certainly was. Jake stared appreciatively at her nude form— long, shapely legs, small, pert breasts tipped with red nipples, and that beautiful, light band of freckles scattered across her collarbone. He had made it a goal tonight to kiss each one individually, and as Cindy glided toward him he wondered how far he would get before something else distracted him.

  The fluid, nonchalant way she wiped away the bed sheet, then straddled his shorts clad erection was a good start. Whoa. Cindy was quite forward. She seemed to know what she was doing, and that startled him. They were both virgins, and he only knew so much to get past this hurdle. What did Cindy know?

  More than him, clearly. He stared now at the triangular thatch of curls between her thighs. Heaven on Earth.

  Cindy took his hands and placed one on each breast, urging him to knead and pinch. Her skin was smooth and pliable, but her nipples hardened instantly. He ached to lean forward and kiss one. He had to know that sensation before the heat below exploded and rocked them both from the bed.

  "Jake," she whispered. She guided one of his hands down the valley between her breasts, past her belly to the trove. Jake gasped at first contact; he had never touched a pussy, and didn't know what to expect despite having heard detailed reports from his buddies. This sensation was nice, Cindy was soft and pliable underneath, and she clearly enjoyed each experimental move. He waggled his fingers over and between her pussy lips, imprinting in his memory each response. Whatever it took to give her pleasure, he would learn the right way.

  Then one finger found and probed her core, already slick and warm. Cindy twitched but her smile encouraged him, so Jake pressed one, then another finger deeper inside her. This was the place, this was where he was going to slide his now purpling cock. This was where he would make Cindy his own, every day for as long as they lived, if she'd let him.

  Cindy bent low and toyed with his nipples, then rubbed his shoulders and neck. She, too, seemed to study his body in search of erogenous zones. "Jake, I'm too excited," she said, her voice timid. "Make me your wife now. I need to know what it feels like. We have the rest of the night to take it slower."

  "Actually..." Jake removed his fingers and grasped Cindy's waist, "we have the rest of our lives for that." He flipped her onto her back as if she were weightless. Jake didn't know how his shorts had come to be removed—maybe Cindy eased them away during her ministrations, maybe he ripped them off in a fit of passion, but who cared? They were naked and young and in love caught up in tempestuous passion.

  His mouth claimed hers as his cock claimed her pussy; their initial cries of surprise were muffled in that scorching kiss. Jake had heard it hurt for some women the first time, but he had not expected to experience a flash of pain himself. The shock ran the length of his shaft and tightened his balls. Of course, such discomfort could be expected while easing a thick, eight-inch rod into a vice. Cindy's pussy was wet, and her juices helped a bit as he pumped in and out of her, but she was so tight...and so wonderful.

  He broke the kiss and drew in a ragged breath. Cindy panted underneath him, scratching at his back and ass. "Oh, God." Her voice sounded far away. "This is so good." "You like that?" He grinned. "You like that, Mrs. Marbury?" "I love it." "I love you." He loved her weary smile and the sweat beading on her forehead. He loved the way her hair snaked in every direction across her pillow as it sank deeper into the mattress. He loved the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, and the sheen of his kiss that lingered on the one nipple he had suckled. He loved those freckles, and he loved Cindy's sharp giggle every time he bent low to kiss one and failed due to his overzealous lovemaking.

  He loved her pussy, he loved being inside her pussy and the feel of her slick labial folds as they rubbed against his shaft with his every thrust. He loved the eruption that quickly followed, the way her channel tightened further as his seed shot into her womb, and their simultaneous cries of joy.

  Most of all, he loved the look in his darling wife's eyes in the afterglow, a satisfied glaze he hoped to see every time they made love. This was the look floating in the dream that took a sleeping, sixty-year-old Jake into morning, his hand curled over the dampened crotch of his pajama shorts.

  Six

  "Guh!" What had possessed Jake to believe that she could do this job? Yes, she was good at keeping grades and lesson plans, but one mistake there and the worst that could happen would be a student missing a point or two on his report card. Something like that could be remedied with a keystroke. One slip-up here, and the power company might pull the plug overnight, thinking the store was delinquent in making a payment. Jake would open the store the next morning to a flood of melted ice cream and rotten produce, assuming he would be able to open the automated doors at all.

  She had told Jake she could balance her checkbook, what a lie that was. She could balance it on one finger, maybe, and spin it like a Harlem Globetrotter could with a basketball. Her checkbook wallet was currently stuffed with a month's backlog of debit card receipts not yet recorded, and she was currently down to her last booklet of sad-eyed shar-peis peering f
rom a wicker basket. Thank goodness Dareville Power allowed customers to pay at the office with cash, else they'd be pulling her plug.

  Her battery-operated buddies might have seen her through a drought without television and lights, had she not thrown them all away when she started the new job two weeks ago. Damn, she needed an orgasm badly to get through another day of working at the store and trying to decipher the notebooks and handwritten ledgers Jake left for her. She hadn't even resorted to manual relief. Her pussy felt shriveled and ready to atrophy.

  She leaned forward in her chair and peered out into the store. It wasn't very busy now; maybe she could slip into the employee restroom and finger her clit until she came. Just five minutes was all she needed.

  No . She wasn't going to risk getting caught doing something like that here. She needed Jake to touch her that way, somewhere far from here. She needed Jake, period.

  That was the worst part of the job thus far, that Jake had barely been around to help her. The brief training she received, which basically amounted to a hand gesture toward the file cabinets and a short tour of the employee lounge, came from Danielle. All her fantasies of Jake hovering low behind her and moving his arm along with hers as they studied page after page of accounting records were just that—delicious fantasy. There were no opportunities to accidentally brush against his chest as she left her chair, no reasons to wear low-cut blouses when Jake wouldn't be around to appreciate the view. Weekdays saw Jake in his element, either working in the store or in Suffolk getting the other one ready, while Lauren did the best she could with what she had, searching her memory for the words to the Our Father so she could pray for a miracle.

  Today was payday, and rather than go through a payroll service like most businesses, Jake insisted on keeping it in-house. So now it fell to Lauren to make sure everybody got his check before noon. Elbows on the desk, head in her hands, Lauren bent over an open book full of numbers and prayed she hadn't overpaid any invoices to allow everyone his appointed share of the till. This was a mistake, this was a mistake... There hadn't been any mistaking the amused expressions shot in her direction from Jake's other employees. Everybody knew Jake gave her the job out of pity, and that she took the job to be closer to him. Everybody knew about the pictures, too, she could tell by how some male gazes lingered, no doubt undressing and inspecting her.