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Subject: RP: {MichaelD} "Sunset on Roses" (mf, teen, rom) (CR305: 10,10,10+) (2/6)
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III.
I hadn't expected to keep this a secret-office romances being what they were-
but I was still a little surprised when Marcy came in my office Monday
morning. Her hair was reddish-brown, maybe what Tracey's would look like in
twenty years, and she wore a lot of beads and jewelry over an Indian-patterned
sun dress.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"I heard you and Tracey had a good time last night."
"Yeah. We went to Las Brisas."
"She told me. She was impressed."
"I just like that place. The food is good and it's a beautiful spot."
She smiled.
"She probably wouldn't want me to tell you this, but she really likes you.
She's been asking me a lot of questions about you."
I tried to stifle a grin.
"Look, I like her too, but I have to ask you this. The age thing doesn't
bother you? I mean, I'm about fifteen years older than she is."
She smirked and waved her hand.
"No, not at all. She's seventeen-going-on-twenty-five anyway. Mentally,
she's not that much younger than you. All she ever talks about now is going
to law school or being a writer."
"I noticed."
"No, I mean I might care if it wasn't someone I knew as well as you, but it's
not. Don't worry about it."
Toward the end of the day, Tracey appeared, leaning against my doorframe.
"Are you going to watch 'Ally McBeal' tonight?"
"I might. I hadn't thought about it."
"I thought maybe we could watch it together."
"You wanna come over? Sure."
"Eightish?"
"Or earlier if you want to eat."
She showed up around seven, having changed into shorts and a striped T-shirt.
"What's for dinner?"
"Chicken pesto linguine."
"Wow."
"I haven't cooked for anyone in a while, and this is one of my favorites."
I finished dinner a little while later, and we ate in front of the TV set.
"This is really good."
"Thanks. I love pasta."
"Me too. Are you Italian?"
"No. Not sure where I got it from."
"Ally McBeal" was into summer reruns. It wasn't an episode I had seen
before, but Tracey had. She asked me a few lawyer questions during the show,
and I tried not to hold forth too much. We spent about two hours together on
the couch, and for most of the time, I had been trying to decide whether to do
anything besides sit there. When she stretched at the end of the show, I
couldn't resist a quick glance at her breasts, which were firm-looking, but
not all that big.
"Well, I guess I'm going."
"Okay. See you tomorrow."
I led her to the door, and for a split-second, I almost kissed her. I
settled for kissing her on the forehead.
She looked up at me for a second in a smirk, and then, before I could stop
her, she put her arms around my neck and pulled me down to kiss her for real,
which I did for a few seconds.
"Um. Okay," I said when she let go of me.
"That was for kissing me on the forehead like I was twelve."
"Sorry."
"Just don't do it again. Good night."
We had lunch a couple of times that week, and planned to go out Friday night.
I tried to behave normally around the office, the vain hope that we could at
least not attract a lot of attention. It didn't work.
I was in the office kitchen Friday morning with Beth, one of the other
associates, who was a woman about my age. Beth and I were good friends, but
as she lived with someone and I had been married, it had never gone beyond
that and wasn't likely to.
"Michael, explain something to me."
"What?"
"Why is it when men get divorced, they immediately start chasing girls half
their age?"
I looked over at her, trying not to look too embarrassed.
"Um, I don't know."
"I mean twenty would be one thing, but for God's sake, she's still in high
school."
"We're just friends. There's nothing going on."
She snorted.
"That's not how Marcy is telling it."
"What is she saying?"
"Just that you two are dating."
"We went to dinner once. And that was after she came over to my house to
drop something off."
She leveled her gaze at me, raising her eyebrows.
"Have you kissed her?"
The question took me by just enough surprise to make lying pointless. Beth
rolled her eyes and groaned.
"I knew it."
She started to walk out of the kitchen.
"Just don't do anything stupid, okay? I'd hate to see you lose your
license."
Tracey showed up around seven that night, but I could tell immediately that
something was wrong.
"I almost didn't come over tonight. I'm really pissed at you."
"What's wrong?" But I had an idea.
She stared at me for a moment.
"Are you embarrassed about me? Because if you are, there's no point in going
any further with this. I mean, I like you, but at least when I date guys my
own age, I don't have to worry about being someone's secret shame. I could
care less what Beth Meyer thinks, but I'm not going to let myself care about
some guy who tells people we have nothing going on together."
"I'm sorry. This is just going to take some adjustment on my part. And you
know it's going to be like this no matter what we do."
"You shouldn't let other people's opinions dictate your life."
"I have a professional reputation to worry about. I don't have any choice."
She sighed, and looked down at the ground.
"Okay. Fine. Goodbye."
She turned and walked back down the driveway. I watched her leave for two
seconds, then went after her.
"Wait."
She kept walking.
"For what? You're obviously not comfortable with this. We could have
something good here, but you won't make the leap."
She stopped and turned to me, her face darkening.
"And you know what really pisses me off? You write about stuff like this,
but you won't do it. John had more balls than you do. Remember what he told
Brittany at the end? 'I love you and I don't care what anyone else thinks?'"
"I know, but that's a book."
"Well, that was what really hit me about it. I liked you since I met you,
but I figured it was pointless because I was so much younger than you. Then
you give me this book about a twenty-eight-year-old guy who falls in love with
some sixteen-year-old girl-what the hell was I supposed to think?"
She started walking away from me again, then spun around when she got to her
car.
"And what was all that crap about not being afraid to go for what you wanted?
'Don't go to law school just because you're worried about making a living as a
writer'? You're the biggest hypocrite I've ever met!"
I walked over to her, having no idea what I would do when I got there. She
turned away from me, and I took her arms, turning her around. She remained
rigid, glaring up at me.
"I've never dated a feisty redhead before either. This is just going to take
some getting used to."
She fought to remain angry, but couldn't do it, finally turning away to keep
from smiling.
"Stop it. This is serious."
"I don't want you to leave. But we can't just make this issue go away by
announcing that we don't care what anyone else thinks. People's opinions do
have an effect on your life. I'm sorry about what happened with Beth today;
she just took me by surprise. Everyone is going to know about this soon, and
at least at that point, lying about it will be pointless. I think once the
novelty wears off, I can deal with this better."
She looked up at me for a moment or two, gaze softening.
"I'm sorry I called you a hypocrite."
"Well, you were right. But remember it took John a while to decide what to
do, too."
"Yeah."
Her eyes narrowed, but she smiled.
"Don't make cracks like that about my hair."
"I'm sorry. But you do have a lot of spirit."
"It has nothing to do with the color of my hair."
"I'm not so sure about that."
She jabbed me in the gut, and I backed away, laughing.
IV.
We went to dinner and a movie, and got back to my house about eleven o'clock.
She came in and flopped on the couch, turning on the TV. I sat down next to
her.
"I like your house," she said a few minutes later. "It's a lot nicer than
our place."
"Is that your mom's car or yours?"
"It's hers. But she goes out with her boyfriend every weekend anyway, so it
doesn't matter."
"What do you think of her boyfriend?"
"He's okay. A little weird, but so is she. They're alike, I guess. She
grew up in the '70s, you know, and I don't think she ever got it out of her
system. She and Dennis smoke a lot of pot when they get together, which kind
of pisses me off. She has some really cool clothes, but the rest of it I
could do without."
"Embroidered bellbottoms?"
"A couple pairs."
"I remember those things."
"They were in when you were a kid?"
"When I was maybe eleven or twelve. But I really grew up in the '80s. I got
the tail end of disco, and then Punk and New Wave came along."
"I like disco."
"So do I."
She sat up on her feet and leaned closer to me.
"Did you ever go to discos like my mom did?"
"No. I was way too young. But they played songs like 'YMCA' and 'Macho Man'
and the whole 'Saturday Night Fever' soundtrack at all the school dances. We
thought we were so cool."
"I love that movie. John Travolta is such a babe."
"All the girls back then were in love with him. Your mom has probably told
you that."
"Yeah. She said she had posters of him all over her room."
"'He hits my hair! All the time I spend on it, and he hits my hair!'"
She shrieked with laughter, rolling back on the couch, then rolling forward
and grabbing my arm. When she caught her breath, she was leaning against the
back of the couch, head just next to my shoulder. Our eyes came together, and
she stopped laughing.
I looked down at her, and brought my hand up to run it through her long hair.
"Is this an issue with you?"
"My hair?"
"Being a redhead. Does it bother you that I pointed that out?"
"I just don't like being pushed into the stereotype."
"Well, you shouldn't be self-conscious about it. I've met maybe a handful of
women in my entire life with hair this color."
"Mom says it won't last. Hers didn't."
"It may not. Fair hair tends to darken as you get older."
"Is it an issue with you?"
"You mean am I attracted to you solely because of your hair?"
"Yeah."
"No. It is very attractive and distinctive. But so is the rest of you."
She smiled.
"Thanks. You're really cute, too."
That was when I kissed her. We lay together on the couch kissing for a
while. I wasn't really sure what she expected, and I wasn't sure how much the
mores had changed since I was seventeen. I stroked her arm for a few minutes,
and then moved my hand to her waist, but she didn't do anything other than
move her arm out of the way. Feeling emboldened, I slowly worked my way up to
her right breast, and she showed no signs of wanting me to stop. I finally
took her breast in my hand, feeling her nipple under the fabric. She was firm
and well-shaped, a little short of being a handful. I flicked her nipple with
my thumb, feeling it stiffen. I caressed her other breast for a few minutes
after that, before leaning back and kissing her nose.
"When do you have to be home?"
She smiled up at me.
"I don't. My mom almost always spends the night with Dennis."
I wanted to say something, but then remembered how mad she got when I
patronized her. What would I do if she were nineteen or twenty? Probably try
to get her to sleep with me, but I wasn't ready for that yet, whatever she
wanted.
She pulled my face back down, and we went back to making out on the couch. I
played with her breasts for a few more minutes. Then she stopped kissing me,
and pressed her forehead to mine, looking down.
"Do . . . do you want to go back in the bedroom?"
"Tracey-"
"If you say what I think you're going to say, I'm going to kill you."
"Okay."
"I'm going to be eighteen in December. Five months. And I'm not a virgin.
We shouldn't be having this discussion. Would you want this if I was older?"
"Yes."
"It's just five goddamned months. If you can't deal with that, I'm walking
out that door right now."
I pushed her head back and kissed her.
"You don't need to leave. It's not because you're seventeen. It's because
we haven't been dating all that long, and I just got divorced, and I haven't
slept with anyone in over a year, and I want to be sure this isn't happening
just because I'm feeling lonely."
She pushed herself away from me and stood up.
"Goddamnit, stop doing that!"
"What?"
"Stop trying to protect me! I may not legally be an adult, but I can take
care of myself. I like you, and I know you're lonely, and I want to help you
feel better. What's wrong with that? You're not taking advantage of me.
Shit!"
She put her hand on her forehead and stared at the floor. I stood up and
took her in my arms. She leaned against me, sighing.
"I'm sorry I keep yelling at you. But I like you a lot, and you're driving
me crazy."
"I just don't want to hurt you. But if you want me to stop worrying about
that, I will."
"I can handle myself. I'm not that damn fragile."
I held her for a moment or two.
"Well, in that case, the bedroom is that way."
She looked up at me, smiling. She paused a second, and then backed away,
pulling me toward the back of the house.
When we got back to the bedroom, she backed up until she was sitting on the
end of the bed.
"Is this the bed you had with your wife?"
"No."
"So I'm the first?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a white satin bra, and scooted backward
to the pillows. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back against the wall. I
stood at the end and unbuttoned my shirt, dropping it to the floor. I crawled
up the bed, and she held out her arms, laying back to let me crawl above her
as she embraced me.
I kissed her for a few seconds before reaching around with one hand to unsnap
her bra. She started a little and giggled.
"What?"
"I guess you've had a lot of practice at that."
"Yeah."
"I'm used to having guys struggle with it."
She untangled herself from me long enough to get it off, then closed in
again. She had small, dark brown nipples that I played with for a few minutes
before pulling her above me to suckle them. She straddled my waist, and moved
back and forth above my mouth. I took it slowly, wanting to enjoy it after
being celibate for so long.
After working on her nipples for a long time, I pulled her back down to kiss
her. I unbuttoned her shorts, and she wriggled out of them, panties and all.
As soon as she was nude, she reached over and tried to pull off my pants.
"Whoa, slow down."
She let go of me and looked a little embarrassed.
"Okay. What do you want to do?"
"Just relax. There's no rush."
Naked, she was even more of an impressive sight. I had never seen pubic hair
the color of hers before, and I spent a while caressing her and looking her
over. She smiled at me, amused.
"Am I the first redhead you've slept with?"
"Yes."
She laughed.
"It's not, like, obvious, or anything. God."
I finally pulled off my jeans and kicked them onto the floor. We pulled
back the covers and came together on the bed. I kissed her for a few seconds
before pulling back to look down at her.
"Am I the first adult you've slept with?"
"Yeah. But you're only the second one, period."
"What happened with number one?"
"We broke up in March. He was sweet, but it wasn't love, or anything."
We resumed kissing and fondling each other, and I worked my way down to her
breasts again, reaching down to feel between her legs. I found her wetness,
and began stroking her slowly. Then I kissed my way down her abdomen, finally
getting face to face with copper-toned sex.
"Um," she said.
"What?"
"No one has ever done this to me before. So, if I go crazy, that's why."
"Okay."
I opened her up with my tongue, working on her gently, and she arched her
back as I did.
"Oh God, oh God," she moaned.
She reached down to take my hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. She
tasted fresh and clean, and I moved all around her, licking up and down her
labia with the tip of my tongue. She seemed to get off enough on that, so I
didn't apply any pressure, just used the friction to stimulate her. As she
got more into it after several minutes, I sped up, moving my tongue in tight
circles over her clitoris. Her hands remained tight on mine, and she was
breathing hard, but lay still under me.
All at once, her hands went to fists on mine, she let out a squeak, and her
hips began bouncing at my face. I held on, licking her rapidly, and the
bouncing slowed until she was holding herself rigid, back arched up off the
bed. I could see the tendons standing out on her arms, but she made no move
to push me off when she came as my wife always had, so I kept at her. After
five or ten seconds, she began to vibrate again, and cried out as if she were
in agony.
"Ah! Oh!"
Her entire body was a rigid muscle, and her thighs had wrapped around my
neck. She began to convulse-I wasn't sure if this was a third orgasm or the
same one from the beginning-and finally pushed me off, gasping for breath.
She let go of me and fell back onto the sheets. I stayed where I was, kissing
the soft flesh just above her pubic hair.
I waited fifteen or twenty seconds before kissing my way down again. She lay
perfectly still, doing nothing when I started licking her again. Then her
mouth opened, I sensed her breathing speeding up again.
"Oh. Oh. Oh, God."
Her hands reached for mine again, and I sped my attack. In about a minute or
so, her abdomen began to shake, and her hands shot down to grab my head. Her
thighs closed on my head, and she curled up toward me, groaning.
"Oh!"
She threw herself back, pushing me off at the same time. Now, I crawled up
the bed to lie next to her. She rolled over, snuggling against me. I held
her and let her catch her breath.
When she finally stirred, she reached out for me, hugging me tightly.
"No one has ever made me feel like that."
I stroked her head and played with her hair.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked a moment later.
"Whatever you feel like doing."
She slid down my chest, and reached out to caress my penis. She seemed to
look at it for a while as she played with it, then took it into her mouth.
She appeared to have the general idea, whether or not she had done it before,
so I lay back and let her do it.
She didn't do anything fancy, just moved up and down on me, but it felt nice
enough. When I felt like I had had enough, I pulled her up. She looked up at
me, smiling, and lay back on the bed.
"Hold on a second."
I sat up and tried to swing off the bed, but she stopped me.
"Are you getting a rubber?"
"Yeah."
"I'm on the pill. And my boyfriend and I were both virgins. So you don't
really need to if you don't want to. I don't like them, to be honest."
"Okay. Me neither."
I lay back down beside her, rolling over her as she spread her legs under me.
I bent down to kiss her, then suck on her nipples briefly, before moving up to
kiss her again. I probed forward with my penis, finding her very wet. I
slipped into her as she put her arms around me.
"Mmm."
"This may not last very long. It's been a long time for me."
She didn't answer me; she just pulled me down to kiss her. I moved in her
slowly, luxuriating in her tight, silky, wetness. I pushed into her as far as
I could get, pulling the base of my penis up over her clitoris. She moaned,
arching her back. I pulled myself up further, working on her like that, and
she pushed herself up at me. After a few thrusts, I lifted up and looked down
to where I was thrusting into her red-fringed sex. She saw me and started
laughing in embarrassment.
"Is it that exciting?"
"Yes." I thrust up at her again, making her convulse. Her hands gripped my
waist tightly, and I sped up. I lowered myself and kissed her again, and she
moved her arms around my back. As I rubbed myself against her, she began
whimpering in my ear.
"It's so good, oh God, you're so good."
She started to shake under me, and that was it for me. With a few more deep
thrusts, I spurted off helpless inside her, but I could tell from the way she
dug her nails into my back that she was getting off as well.
I lay on top of her, and inside her, for several minutes. I nuzzled her face
with my nose, and she lifted up to kiss me gently. Finally, I rolled off her,
and she curled up next to me.
"There's a lot more to sex than I realized," she said a few minutes later.
I couldn't help laughing.
"Is there?"
"I knew there was stuff I hadn't done yet, but I thought I had the basics
down. I don't know. I don't know quite how to express this."
"It's okay."
"It's not that I didn't come with him. I did, though not always. This was
just, I don't know, so much more sensuous."
"It lasted longer?"
"Definitely. I'm used to about five minutes for the whole thing. But that's
not all of it. There were a few times when we spent a couple of hours in bed
together."
"Sex is more than just intercourse. That's the culmination, not the whole
point of it. Once you figure that out, it can be a lot better."
"Yeah. I think that's it. Ninety percent of what I did with him was just
doing it. We would make out for a few minutes, then have sex."
"That style has never really appealed to me."
"I guess not. I like this way a lot more."
I picked up a strand of her hair and inspected it. She started laughing.
"What is the deal with my hair?"
"I love it. The color is just so unique."
She hugged me.
"This last hour was the best hour of my life. I mean it."
"Me too."
"You don't have to say that. It's enough that you enjoyed it."
"I did."
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yes. Thanks."
"You know, you talk a lot," I said a while later.
"I do? You mean during sex?"
"Yeah. I like it."
"I wasn't doing it deliberately. I couldn't help it."
"I know. You're just a very expressive person. If you've got a thought, out
it comes."
"My mom is like that. I guess I get it from her."
"I'm not. I've always been better expressing myself in writing than in
person."
She didn't say anything for a moment.
"Who is Brittany?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is she anyone you knew? Or maybe your fantasy woman? Or just someone you
made up?"
"A little of each. I used to know someone like her, in temperament though
not looks. I used to like short girls until I got married. Don't read too
much into it. She was mainly a metaphor."
"But you'd like someone like Brittany. You wrote about her too passionately
not to."
"I don't know how I would deal with meeting Brittany in person."
She turned around to face me, setting her chin on her arm as she lay across
my chest. She stared at me for a few moments.
"But the piercings, and her being bisexual?"
"Were supposed to represent how she was willing to change herself to make
John happy. The substance was unimportant, only the appearance. Brittany was
supposed to represent a political candidate like her father."
"So you're not really into that stuff?"
"Not really. Fantasy maybe, but I have a hard time imagining really doing
what John and Brittany did."
"But there was something about her that got you off. I know that much."
"Maybe it was the way she was so in touch with her sexuality. Shameless, for
lack of a better word. She didn't have any hang-ups about what she wanted out
of life."
She laid her head back down on my chest.
"That's a lot to expect out of someone who's just sixteen."
"I know. She was supposed to be unusual."
"Okay."
"Don't think you have to become Brittany, okay? I like you the way you are."
We made love again after that, and it lasted a lot longer. We both started
to get tired toward the end, but I could tell she was happy. Then we went to
sleep. About four a.m., I woke up to her snuggling and caressing me, and very
slowly, we did it a third time in the pitch dark of my room.
"Is it any different when you can't see my hair?" she asked afterward.
I started laughing.
"Yes. But definitely no worse."
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