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From: MichaelD38@aol.com
Subject: RP: {MichaelD} "Sunset on Roses" (mf, teen, rom) (CR305: 10,10,10+) (3/6)
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V.
We got up about nine, and I made her breakfast. She put on one of my
sweatshirts, and walked around the house looking at my stuff as I cooked.
Then she came in and leaned on the counter.
"This is weird. I feel so grown up."
"Spending the night here, you mean?"
"And waking up with you and wearing your clothes and having you cook for me.
And then I remember that I'm still in high school, and it feels so bizarre.
Like I'm so close to getting on with my life and being an adult, but it's just
out of reach."
"Don't be in such a hurry to grow up. One day you wake up and think 'I'm too
young to be this old.'"
She smiled.
"I-"
But whatever she was about to say caught in her throat, and she looked away
from me. I had a feeling what it was, and went back to making breakfast.
"Should you call your mother?"
"She won't be home. But I guess I should check the voice mail."
She picked up the phone and dialed the number. She listened for a few
seconds before starting.
"Um, hi, it's me."
She looked up at me with a worried expression on her face. For a second or
two, my whole career flashed before my face.
"I'm at Michael's . . . yeah."
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Yes, mother . . . I don't know. I might hang around here. Is that okay? .
. . Okay, thanks . . . I love you, too. Bye."
She hung up.
"God. She must have come home early."
"Is she all right?"
"Yeah. She asked if I spent the night here. Then she asked if I was 'being
responsible.'"
"That was the 'Yes, mother'?"
"Yeah. But forget my mother, okay? Don't let this ruin it."
"Okay."
She came around the counter and hugged me from behind.
"Can we just hang out today? Pretend we have a normal relationship?"
"Yeah. No problem."
We ate breakfast, and she did the dishes. I sat in the living room watching
her. She had nothing on under the sweatshirt, and I was repeatedly treated to
views of her naked behind. She saw me looking at her and smiled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing, shit. I know what you're looking at."
She finished the dishes and came over to sit on my lap. She shook out her
hair behind her and then flipped it into my face and over my head.
"There. Happy now?"
"Yes."
I put my hands on her waist and pulled her closer. She leaned in and kissed
me.
"Wanna go back to bed?"
"You may have worn me out, but I'll give it a try."
I reached down to hold her butt, and stood up as she wrapped herself around
me. I carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She pulled
off my sweatshirt and scooted back on the bed. I stood there and just looked
at her for a moment. She looked down at herself, then back at me.
"Do I really look like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like what I always see in your eyes."
"I see a beautiful woman."
She smiled.
"With red hair."
"With red hair. But the rest of you is very nice, too."
I pulled off my T-shirt and sweatpants, and climbed into bed with her. We
kissed and nibbled on each other for a minute.
"You make me feel very sexy," she whispered. "And I love that you love my
hair. Whatever makes you happy is fine with me."
"You do."
I suckled her breasts for a few minutes until they were stiff and swollen.
She pulled me up, reaching down to pull on my penis. Then I rolled on top of
her and slipped inside her. I knew I was going to have difficulty getting
off, so I just tried to pleasure her. I let her get on top after a few
minutes, and she held herself up on my shoulders, hanging her hair down in my
face and laughing.
She stayed on top until she got tired, and I rolled her over, slipping out of
her. When she realized I wasn't going to go any further, she looked up at me.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not going to come. Too much last night."
"Do you want me to do it?"
"You don't have to."
"I don't mind."
"Help yourself, then."
She went to work on me with her mouth and hands, and was able to get me off
in a few minutes. I saw her shudder slightly after I came in her mouth, but
then she lay back down beside me.
"How was that?"
"Very nice. Thanks."
"It was my first."
"I couldn't tell."
We lay together for a while, and I finally dozed off. I woke up to her
stretching and sitting up next to me.
"Michael?"
"Hmm?"
"I need to say something."
"Okay."
"Now that we've done this, we have to have some kind of commitment. I don't
just mean monogamy and all that. I mean the whole age thing. It really hurt
me yesterday when you told Beth Meyer that we didn't have anything. I went
back to the library and cried."
"I'm sorry."
"If we're going to be together, we have to decide that we're going to deal
with this, not hide it. I really don't care how old you are, my mother
doesn't care, and if you can just stand your ground about it with people, I
know we can make it work. I'm not stupid; I know people will gossip about
this, but we shouldn't let that destroy what we have here."
"I'll do my best."
"Do you promise me? Because when you do that, it basically says to me that
I'm not worth it to you. And that really hurts."
"I won't. I promise."
She put on some of my clothes, and we spent a few hours working around my
yard. She gave me a few tips about things her mother did, and when we got
done, on a whim, I clipped a rose off one of the bushes and gave it to her.
She sniffed it and smiled at me.
"Thanks. That's sweet."
We walked down to the beach and had lunch. As much as I knew the age thing
was going to be a problem, I knew something serious was developing here. If I
spent much more time with Tracey, I could see myself falling in love with her.
And where that would lead, I wasn't sure.
She spent the night with me again, and finally went home Sunday afternoon.
VI.
Tuesday morning, Beth and I both had hearings to go to in Santa Ana, and we
drove over together. She had been kind of quiet that morning, but as we sat
in traffic on the 55, she finally spoke up.
"You slept with her, didn't you?"
I groaned, and looked away from her.
"Don't give me that. I know that look on a woman's face when I see it."
"And it's what, to you, exactly?"
"It's that you're my friend, and you're a good lawyer, and I don't want to
see you get suspended from practice for something this stupid."
"Marcy doesn't care, and she'll be eighteen in a few months."
"A few months is a long time at that age. What if you break up, and she
decides she hates you, and turns you in out of spite? All she has to do is
swear under oath that she slept with you, and that's the ball game."
"She won't do that."
"Do you know that? And whether she would or not, you do know that a
statutory rape conviction will make you a sex offender, with all that
implies."
"I know."
"And forgetting all that, do you care how pathetic this looks? You're
thirty-two, divorced, and dating a seventeen-year-old. Are you going to start
wearing gold chains and telling everyone she makes you feel young again? Are
you going to take her to the Prom when school starts?"
"Drop it, okay?"
"Okay. But just don't ever say I didn't warn you."
Beth wasn't the only who had noticed what was going on. The office gossip
got kind of harsh for a week or two, but as I had hoped, once the novelty wore
off, people stopped talking about it, although the atmosphere had definitely
changed. The secretaries, with the exception of Marcy, were noticeably more
distant with me. The male associates gave me a ration of ribbing about it,
but it got old soon enough.
Over the next few weeks, Tracey and I developed a few habits. She would come
over every Monday night to watch "Ally McBeal" with me, although we rarely did
anything besides kiss good night. On the weekends, though, she came over
Friday afternoon, and wouldn't leave until Sunday night. According to her,
Marcy was fine with this, as it got Tracey out of her hair for a few days and
allowed her to spend more time with her boyfriend. After a couple of weeks of
it, I let her leave some clothes and personal items in my closet. We often
worked together in my garden or reviewed each other's writing. I let her read
some of my other stuff, and she started writing stories for me during the week
to read that weekend. We had discovered that we were both into snow skiing,
and we talked about going skiing together that winter, although I had my
doubts that this would last that long.
Saturday morning in early August, I woke up and came out of the bedroom to
find her looking through a box of my old stuff in the hall closet. She looked
up at me, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I was looking for something else. I didn't mean to snoop."
"It's okay."
"What is all this?"
"I keep all my old letters and cards. I've always felt guilty throwing out a
personal letter. I've been doing it since I was your age."
She held up a picture.
"Is this your wife? Or ex-wife, I mean."
"Yeah."
"She's really pretty."
"She was."
She put the picture back into the box and put the top back on.
"I'm sorry. I just don't know all that much about you, and I couldn't help
it."
"It's okay. You can look through it all if you want. Half the reason I keep
that stuff is to help me remember. It's ancient history anyway."
"Are you sure?"
"Go ahead."
There was stuff in that box going back to when I joined the Navy before
college, and it took her a while to get through it. I read the newspaper as
she did.
"What happened to all these people?" she finally asked.
"I've lost touch with most of them. I got lazy about it while I was
married."
"That's kind of sad."
"I know."
She stood and curled up next to me on the couch.
"I feel like I know you better now."
"Good."
"You've done so much more than I have."
"Does that bother you?"
"I don't know. I guess it just emphasizes that we have differences."
"And we have a lot of similarities. But this gives me an idea."
"What?"
"Let's drive up to Santa Barbara. Get a room on the beach and go out
tonight."
She pursed her lips, and I could see she wasn't quite sure what to make of
the idea.
"I'm just thinking that you won't feel as weird about that box if you've done
stuff like that too."
She didn't answer me right away.
"You mean if we have more of a history together."
"Exactly."
"So we would go some place fancy?"
"If you want."
"I don't have anything that nice to wear."
"So we'll go shopping when we get there. Santa Barbara is full of boutiques.
We can get whatever you want."
"Okay. I think I'd like that. Let's do it."
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