No Disrespect

Lou

I was sharing some beers out back with Lou the other day. He brought up the name of someone who at one time was a friend, or at least an associate, of both of us before a falling out.

“Meaning no disrespect”, I said. “But fuck him.”

He paused and took a short drink. “You know, I’m pretty sure that is the definition of disrespect.”

Lou is very precise.

 

Different Flavors of Normal

Continued from The Summons

Megan had expected a relaxed flirty afternoon on lawn chairs separated by enough room to cop a surreptitious hand or feel while Tommy played in the yard. Later that night, who knew? This is what she was thinking while lounging on the glider, her tongue deep inside Doctor Maple’s mouth. And yes, in her head at least she was prone to refer to Joyce as Doctor Maple now and again.

“You”, said Megan pulling away for air, “Are a great kisser.”

“Like anything else, practice helps…”

“All on boys, I bet. And men…”

“Married twelve years, so there’s that…”

“What about girls?” Megan whispered, her lips brushing Joyce’s cheek. When there was no answer, Megan reframed the question. “Did you kiss a lot of girls?”

“One for sure, in college. Maybe two…”

“Maybe?”

“Tequila.”

“Ahhh. And…did you…”

“Last night was the furthest I’ve gone. Ever. The furthest I could imagine going…”

“You’re welcome”, said Megan inhaling Joyce’s breath as she covered her mouth again. Joyce accepted the kiss, then, with a cock of her head, took the offensive and slid her tongue past Megan’s feeling her submit gently to her probing.  Kissing a girl WAS different-softer, sweeter-but maybe it was just this girl. Not enough of a sample size to be sure. But still, what she knew was she’d not felt any cheek stubble or rough tit grabbing when all she wanted was to kiss. Which was new and nice.

Joyce’s house was the last on the cul-de-sac and her backyard jutted further into the woods than the neighbors, leaving her virtually secluded out back. They could more easily hear-and in the winter see-traffic on Trestle Drive two hundred yards through the woods than anyone on the surrounding lots. She and her husband had done a lot back here in the early days.

Megan broke the kiss lightly, then, as if stricken, slipped from Joyce’s shiny face, then down her body, taking in the smell of her shirt, then her belly, then her lap as she slid to her knees between her naked thighs.

“Oh God”, said Megan running her hands over the tops and sides of her legs. “These…”

“I somehow thought you’d like these shorts,” Joyce giggled.

“Gawww…” she slipped her head into the warmth between Joyce’s legs and worked her tongue from knee to hemline right and left, stopping to bite gently on a mouthful of satiny crotch. The fires from the previous night were sparking again, building and blanketing them, all goosebumps, butterflies and shallow caught breaths.

Megan paused and sat back on her haunches continuing to rub Joyce’s quads, even pressuring with the heels of her hands. She watched the legs, watched her hands kneading them, read the freckles, as if trying to memorize a passage in a book. For her part, Joyce lay back her head and sighed allowing, again, the girl to do what she wanted. Not to say she didn’t want it as well. She did. She wouldn’t have known how much she wanted it until last night but there was no denying what she was feeling. At least there was no denying it anymore.

“You have to do it”, Megan told herself. “Just say it. Joyce will roll with it.” But she wasn’t so sure. Like last night. How far would be too far? But that had worked out, hadn’t it? She wanted this so badly but was so afraid to say it. She didn’t even feel Joyce rubbing the side of her head, scratching behind her ear like she was a puppy. When she finally looked up it was into Joyce’s soft eyes.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ll think it’s weird.”

“Come on…tell.”

“You don’t want to know….”

“I asked.” Joyce playfully squeezed her ear. “What?”

“Your legs…”

“We’ve established that…”

Megan closed her eyes and took a breath then blew the words out. “I want to lay over them.”

“Over my legs?”

“Your thighs.” Joyce’s face was blank. “Your knees.”

Joyce squinted down at her.

“Jesus! You know, your lap.”

The light finally went off. “Ahhh….”

Megan managed a twisted embarrassed smile. “Yep”, she sighed. “She finally gets it.”

Joyce cupped the girl’s cheeks. “I told you last night that I was thick about some things…”

“Yeah, but this is weird, I know…”

“Hush.” She was back to stroking Megan’s head lolling between her legs.

“Sorry…” the girl said puffing the words against her, tickling down there.

“I said hush, now…” She took Megan’s hands. “Stand up.” When she did, Joyce reached out and patted her hips, “Megan, Megan, Megan,” then she unsnapped her jeans. “I don’t imagine you want to lay over my knees with these on.”

“No mam I do not…”

The jeans, snug to the skin, gave up territory grudgingly and Joyce was careful to rub her hands as much as possible over Megan’s legs as she pushed them so slowly down. “These are cute”, she said admiring the skimpy blue panties that were cut high in the back exposing the bottom third of her cheeks. “Let’s leave them on for now.”

“Whatever you say. I’m through directing.”

“This is something else new for me. Just let me know if I’m…”

“You’re fine.”

Conscious that she was right handed, she pulled Megan to that side. While she stood there awaiting the next signal, Joyce reached back and slapped her bottom.

“Ohhh!” said Megan surprised, grabbing her butt.

“OK?”

“OK!”

Megan lay herself down over Joyce’s bare legs and settled into position. Joyce watched the pink splotch from her smack blooming below the panties. For her, she thought this might be a cute game, but she felt Megan’s breathless excitement. She allowed her hand to linger on Megan’s bottom and rub the back of her thighs.

“How long have you fantasized about this?”

“Spanking in general? Or you spanking me?”

“Okay, specific, then. Me spanking you.”

“Since I was ten or eleven.”

“No way!” Joyce smacked her butt lightly.

“Yep. This one time I noticed you in the yard. In the fall. You were raking leaves I remember. I was riding my bike. You were wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. You had a ponytail back then and you looked so…I don’t know. Strong maybe? I was ten.”

“Did you fantasize about undressing me? About making love to me?”

“No. That came later.” There was another light smack, just for fun.

“How much later?

“Ouch. Last week.”

“SMACK!”

“Ow! No, No, I’d think…I’d lay this all out in my mind…what if I did something…rode my bike through your tulips, hit your mailbox with a ball, something…and you got mad, and spanked me…Or I’d ask you to spank me because I ruined your flowers. You know…dumb…”

“Nothing’s dumb Megan. Things just are what they are.”

“Yeah, but its not the most normal thing….”

“I don’t think we believe in normal. Or in one kind of normal. This is just a different flavor of normal, that’s all.”

In answer Megan lifted her butt just a little. Presenting.

“So we’ll do this”, said Joyce fixing her left arm across Megan’s back to hold her in place.

“I’m so going to cum all over your lap”, Megan said as Doctor Maple, with a laugh, brought her hand down sharply.

 

Continued in Always Learning

The Summons

Continued from In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

The summons, as she jokingly thought of it, came in a text around eleven. Normally an early riser, Megan was still fast asleep in a soft post-coital cocoon of soft, salty smells and sticky fingers. She found the pinging phone under a pillow and blinked to read without lifting her head:

Apparently, Saturday pizza is now a thing. Delivery at four. Be here.

She smiled and dropped the phone. Joyce would never in a million years have ended an invitation like that before last night. She smiled and closed her eyes again-enjoying being summoned. She allowed herself a small daydream of Joyce’s thighs and bottom and, as it took hold, wished she could fall back to sleep to consummate it. Not willing to overindulge her lustful leanings, she finally mumbled, “Yes my queen” and with a wry smile sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

She could still feel an itch on her backside where she’d punished herself which led to a deeper tingle between her legs. She shook it off. “What a night…” She wandered down the hall to the shower.

She turned the radio on. The news was about the plague, of course. The voice on the speakers verified what Joyce had been saying over the last couple of weeks. The virus appeared to be on the wane; whether for good or for awhile no one really knew, but the world was starting to open up again. As if to prove it, Megan watched out the kitchen window as more people than usual seemed to be out wandering the neighborhood. Most in masks, sure. But out.

While everyone on the radio breathed a sigh of relief-and Megan was happy about a return to at least some semblance of normalcy-she couldn’t help feeling a pang of dread that something might be ending just as it had gotten started. “Selfish”, she decided and headed out to the garage with a cup of coffee intent on killing a few hours.

A little after four she took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and slipped it into her shoulder bag.  With a bandana tied loosely around her neck she retraced the steps she’d taken twelve hours before. She dodged a few bikes and nodded or waved to folks who recognized her. She was strolling with a purpose-not hurrying but not giving the impression that she wanted to tarry either.

How would this go? Last night was hot-they both were leaking wet and famished for the taste of each other. Now how would they react with the fire safely banked, when every touch didn’t burn. When every word wasn’t simmering?

The house pinged when she let herself in and Tommy ran down the hall to greet her. “Hey Megsy! You made it!” He gave her a quick hug that was almost a push then ran back toward the kitchen by way of the front sitting room. “Pizza just got here!”

Joyce was in the kitchen moving the pie from the box onto a wooden board wearing a pair of high-cut running shorts and a tie-dyed t-shirt which made her look more grad student than doctor. Megan gulped at the sight of her legs.  She had never seen Joyce in these shorts unless she was running.

“You’re late”, she kidded. “Leaving me all this kitchen duty.”

“I brought wine!” she smiled pulling the bottle from the sack.

“And just like that, you’re forgiven.”

Not wanting to wait for Joyce’s greeting, Megan stepped close and slipped her arm around her waist pulling her in. Joyce bent to meet her lips. The kiss was warm, wet and lingered a moment. Joyce kept her mouth mostly closed, but it was definitely not a chaste kiss between buddies.  Still not wanting to push, Megan pulled away first. Joyce smiled almost shyly. “Did we even kiss last night?” she asked.

“I honestly don’t remember”, Megan answered allowing her hand to slide from Joyce’s hip across her the slick fabric pulled tightly over her bottom. “Nice shorts”, she said. “These old things?” Joyce flirted. By the time Tommy spun back into the room they were on opposite sides of the island and Megan was opening the wine.

“When’s pawpaw coming?” Tommy asked.

“Five o’clock Bud….”

Megan looked at Joyce with comically wide eyes. “Company?”

“Not for us. My mom and dad have been in quarantine for three weeks for the express purpose of getting Tommy for an overnight when it seemed prudent. It seems prudent.”

“They have a pool!” squealed Tommy.

“Take these”, Joyce corralled her son with paper plates and napkins. “I’ve got this”, she picked up the pizza. “You”, she looked at Megan, “bring the bottle and glasses. There’s a cooler out there. And close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

Continued here Different Flavors of Normal

 

Wounds

She didn’t so much knock as scratch at the door. Might not have heard her had I not seen her pull up outside, two wheels crookedly over the curb. I opened the door only as far as the chain would allow. She reeked. Had been drunk recently but not presently. She held a steak, no doubt stolen from her work in the not recent past, almost wrapped in a stained paper towel. There was a shining need in her eyes that used to be for me. I opened the door and let her in.

We left her jacket and meat on the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom. She wanted me to undress her, to clean her, to anoint her with oils I never had. As the tub filled with scalding water and slippery bubbles, I pushed the shirt off her shoulders. There was a scrape on her lower neck that had been hidden by the collar.

“Who did this to you?” I asked.

She watched me sitting on the toilet, unsnapping and opening her filthy jeans. “Every mark on me is yours”, she said.

There are some mistakes that can be fixed, or at least forgiven. Wounds that can heal leaving nothing but a stain or a scar. Others though, remain open-seeping-to be carried or offered up every day, beyond lifetimes. I held her hand as she stepped carefully into the tub and put a towel behind her head when she lay back.

“You won’t leave me in here alone, will you?”

“I’ll leave the door open.”

“Stay. Please.” She was squeezing my hand.

There was an angry bruise on her left breast-just above the nipple. I wouldn’t ask where that one came from.

I already had my answer.

Rabbit

Back when they were separated, Dot lived in a house out in Pangburn Hollow. It was a smallish place with a stream out back, but big enough for her and the girls. Thelma and Denise were Irish twins, born-generously-eleven months apart. Let’s just say they were the same age 42 days out of the year. So, when they went off to the state university at the same time Dot was left alone in that little hollow house. Which was fine with her. More than fine actually. She had never lived alone in her life and it was a pleasant change to only have herself to look after. She had her cashier’s job down at Maracinni’s, which was five days a week, then she had card club on Tuesdays and of course, she had church, which wasn’t just a Sunday thing, what with choir practice and bible school and all. But then, before too long, she started to having Bud back again usually on Saturday nights. He first said he was “in the neighborhood” but that didn’t hold water because Pangburn Hollow wasn’t on the way to or from anywhere. She just accepted that he’d be showing up on the odd Saturday night when he was done cattin’ around, as she called it. He was still her husband after all and his railroad job paid for the girl’s school, so it was a small price to pay. He’d smell of liquor and cigarettes and she kept a bottle in the house for when he showed up. Sometimes they’d just set on the couch and watch the late movie and sometimes he’d fall asleep in the chair and she’d cover him before going up to bed. But sometimes he wanted what a man wanted, and she’d give him that too. But never in bed. It being Saturday night, her hair would be done up for church in the morning and she didn’t want to ruin it by laying in bed with Bud. So she would bend over the couch and he’d take her standing up from behind. He grouched about it at first, but he was getting what he wanted after all, so he shut up. Dot would never come like that, but she seldom did with Bud anyway. He was too quick. When girls used to call him Rabbit behind his back it wasn’t because he liked carrots.