Sweet Harmony: An Older Man, Younger Woman Romance

by Arlo Arrow

  Whenever I thought about Jeffrey, I thought I just had a crush on him the way girls crushed on movie stars. I had always admired his talent, and it was no secret that he was good looking.

  When I was a teen, I loved when my parents would have him over for dinner. I never really liked his wife, but that was probably because I didn’t like seeing him in love with anyone else. When I knew he was coming over, I’d dress in my best clothes, and act like one of the adults.

  My infatuation with him changed the moment he spilled his feeling for me. It was no longer some childish fantasy of romantic dinners with my mentor. It suddenly seemed more tangible, more real. I didn’t just have a crush on Jeffrey Knight—I was in love with him.

  I was in love with him, but I was also pissed off that he could dismiss me like that without even asking how I felt. It was selfish to make this all about him. If he had even asked me about my feelings, maybe we could have discussed it. Instead, he sent me away, and I lost my teacher and friend. Without him, I wasn’t sure if I could play again. He had no right to do that.

  Seething, I stripped out of my pajamas and put on a pair of short shorts and a sweater. I was going to go give him a piece of my mind. I wouldn’t leave until he had a chance to hear me out.

  My stomach was filled with butterflies as I made the short drive to his house. I didn’t have any plans—I just had to look him in the eye and tell him how I was feeling. There was no exit strategy or plans for the future. I just had to do it.

  As I walked to the door, I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts, hoping that I wouldn’t throw up or cry the second I saw him. I needed to play it cool, or else I may never have a chance to share my feelings with him.

  “What are you—” he said, trailing off.

  “We need to talk,” I said with authority, letting myself inside. I marched over to the living room and sat down on the couch. Jeffrey hesitantly joined me on the opposite side.

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can say,” Jeffrey whispered. “I can’t teach you if I can’t get over my feelings for you.”

  “Would it change anything if I told you that I had feelings for you too?” I asked.

  He groaned and pulled at his hair. “You’re confused. You’ve been through a lot lately and I’m not helping things at all.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Don’t tell me how I’m feeling. I’ve loved you for years but then you disappeared on me. I’ve been pushing these feelings down because there was nothing else to do with them. You’re finally back in my life and now you’re trying to push me out again. I’m not going to let you do that.”

  “You know we’d never really have a chance to be together,” he said wearily.

  “Why the hell not?” I fired back.

  “I was friends with your parents. How does that look for me to be in a relationship with the daughter of my closest friends?”

  “I don’t know if you realized this,” I said darkly, “but they’re not around anymore. It’s sort of a moot point.”

  He shook his head. “There are still others out there that would talk if they saw us together. You might not care about your reputation, but I still have a career to save.”

  “Does anyone know that I’m here right now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, but— “

  “So, what’s stopping us?” I interrupted.

  He looked at me, slightly squinting his eyes at me as if he were trying to ready my mind. After a short moment of thought, he lunged toward my side of the couch. I followed suit, meeting him in the middle.

  We kissed frantically, as years of sexual tension poured out of us. I dug my hands into his thick hair and lay on top of him as his hands grasped my butt. I felt the overwhelming urge to get closer to him, to hold him tighter.

  Without speaking, without even thinking, I unbuttoned his flannel shirt, my lips finding his neck as I removed it. In response, he pulled my shirt over my head and I pressed my body against him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin on mine. He smelled of expensive cologne, the same kind that I remembered him wearing all those years ago. It was intoxicating to me.

  I straddled him, feeling him grow against my pelvis. I craved him.

  As he undid my bra, I unbuttoned his pants, just to see how he would react. I wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take things, but I wanted to go all the way. He didn’t know this, but I wasn’t very experienced in bed. Every movement was pure instinct—I just wanted to touch as much of him as I could.

  It seemed as if he were just as into me as I was into him because my pants came off next. I yanked his down and made my intentions clear to him. I wanted him to make love to me like I had dreamed about for years.

  My imagination didn’t do him justice. He took things slow, savoring every moment with me. He was a skilled and giving lover, always making sure that my needs were always met before his. In the end, we both got what we needed, and I lay breathlessly on top of him, in absolute wonder at this exciting turn of events.

  I didn’t know if this would last, but I was willing to do anything to see Jeffrey again. I had a feeling things would be good if we took a leap of faith and gave ourselves a chance to be together. I just didn’t realize the magnitude of how great we would be together.

  He kissed me on the forehead as I closed my eyes, taking in all the sensations. It hardly mattered what was going on in my life outside the four walls of this house. With him, I felt safe.

  Chapter 8

  Jeffrey

  The day after my walk and subsequent breakdown with Susan, I laid in bed until the late morning. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. I just sat at my kitchen table while I watched the woman I loved drive away. It was my fault, too. I was the one who told her to leave. I wouldn’t blame her if she never contacted me again.

  So, I was a little more than surprised to see her at my front door, standing outside in the drizzling rain. I had given her no reason to show up, yet here she was, her chest heaving as she breathed.

  Everything she said sounded muffled to me and my brain worked in slow motion trying to find the right response to her. I felt like she wasn’t understanding what I was saying, or she just didn’t care. Every time I protested her advances, she’d poke another hole in my argument.

  And if her words weren’t persuasive enough, her body was.

  Eventually, I was tired of putting up a fight I didn’t completely believe in myself. My brain was fighting my heart, which was always a recipe for misery. Sitting across from her on the couch, I decided to give into our mutual attraction and find out where we were in the aftermath of it all.

  When our bodies collided, every negative thought left my body. Susan was right about everything. While our age difference would always seem a little unconventional, we couldn’t deny ourselves such pleasure just because of the difference in the time we’d spent on Earth. My worries all seemed so insignificant as we lay together on my couch.

  Afterward, I ran my fingers through her hair as she rested her head on my chest.

  “I’m sorry I told you to leave yesterday,” I said softly, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

  “You didn’t mean it, did you?” she asked, looking up at me.

  “No, I suppose I didn’t. I was just scared.”

  “Of what?”

  I sighed. Apparently, this was less of an ethical dilemma to her than it was to me.

  “People will always talk and make assumptions about us. But, you persuaded me to care less about what people say. I’d rather spend time with you and suffer the consequences than to be apart from you.”

  “Do you still feel like it’s wrong for us to be together?” she asked, her big eyes peering into mine.

  I chuckled. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the chemistry we have. You don’t just stumble across that by accident.”

  “I agree,” she said, tracing her finger up and down my torso. “I don’t think we could fight this connection for long. So,” Susan said, kissin
g my neck, “where do we go from here?”

  I gave her a smile and she returned a devilish grin. There was only one thing on our minds.

  I scooped her up from the couch, not caring that the hallway blinds were open and took her to my bedroom. We made love once more, really taking the time to explore each other’s bodies. Sex with Susan was wild and unpredictable. I felt like I was having fun, not trying to reach a destination before either one of us fell asleep. She had a youthful energy that made me feel ten years younger. She was incredible.

  By the time our bodies parted, it was well into the evening. So much of the day had disappeared, lost between our bodies.

  “Should we order something to eat?” she asked, wrapping her body in my bed sheet so she could retrieve her phone from the kitchen.

  “You’re staying?” I asked, slipping on some pants and following after her.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Of course it is. I would love to have dinner with you. Are you sure you don’t want to go out?”

  “I’d rather have you all to myself before we start navigating that part of our social lives.”

  “Good thinking,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “What are you going to order?”

  “I could go for some Pad Thai,” she said. “I think my Thai place will deliver here. What sounds good to you?”

  “Order me a red curry,” I said, putting my shirt on. “Let me give you my credit card.”

  She winked and placed the order while I set the table. I found a few dusty candles and placed them in the center of the table. In the bottom of my pantry, I found a few bottles of wine next to my whiskey stores.

  “White or red?” I called to her when she got off the phone.

  “White, please,” she said. “I still haven’t acquired the taste for red. Besides, I think whites are better with spicy foods.”

  I let out a soft groan. Our age difference was already showing.

  “Do you think you could be quiet for a quick second?” she asked apologetically. “I want to let my aunt know that I won’t be home for supper. I’m just not ready to tell her that I’m with you.”

  “That’s fine,” I said as she held the phone up to her ear.

  “Hi, Rachel,” she said cheerily. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just calling to let you know that I’m at a friend’s house and that I won’t be home for supper.”

  She smiled at me as she listened to her aunt talk as if we were conspiring together.

  “Sounds good,” she said into the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her. “Tomorrow? Are you staying the night?”

  “I wanted to keep my options open. Besides, I think it’s going to start storming soon and I don’t want to drive home in bad weather.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “Of course, I would love to have you stay.”

  We managed to put the rest of our clothes back on by the time the food arrived. I tipped the driver as Susan put the food on plates. I dimmed the lights, poured the wine, and lit the candles.

  “Very romantic,” she noted. “Do you know what would make things even more romantic?”

  “What?” I asked, knowing that her ornery smile meant that she was up to no good.

  She ran out of the room and suddenly the sound of my second album filled the room.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “If you knew the story behind this song, you wouldn’t find it romantic.”

  “Tell me,” she said, plopping down into her chair.

  “I was under a lot of pressure from the label to write something a little more commercial, something that could be played at fancy restaurants across the world. I wrote it in a day, after drinking a few bottles of wine. I gave it to my label, hoping they’d hate it and give me more time to work on something better when I was feeling romantically inspired. As it turns out, they liked it and stuck it on the record.”

  “And now the magic is ruined,” Susan said mockingly. “I’ll never be able to go back to the time where I believed this song was written with a beautiful woman in mind. Maybe one day you’ll write a song about me,” she said coyly.

  “Maybe,” I echoed. “Maybe you can help me write it.”

  I saw her eyes glisten a moment as a faint smile appeared on her lips. “I would be honored to write a song with you.”

  “In time,” I said, feeling dizzy from how quickly things were moving.

  “Of course,” she said softly. She looked hurt as if she didn’t think that I was being serious.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I would absolutely write a song with you, the woman I love.”

  She coughed, choking on her noodles.

  “Oh shit,” I said. “It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” she said, blinking rapidly. “It’s just so lovely to hear you say the words out loud.”

  We finished our dinner before retiring back to the sofa to drink, listen to music, and talk. Before long, we were back in my bed, making love before being overcome by exhaustion.

  I slept better that night than any night in recent memory. Susan was the one thing in my life that had been missing. Now, I felt like a whole person again, ready to get my life back into order.

  Chapter 9

  Susan

  I woke up with the sun the next morning, Jeffrey’s silky sheets covering my nude body. Leaning over to wish him a good morning, I kissed him on the cheek. He gave a loud snort and turned over. Apparently, he was a heavy sleeper.

  I spooned him for a while, nuzzling his strong back. His musky scent was heavenly and I didn’t want to leave his side. He was so warm and cuddly and it felt unbelievably good to be close to someone.

  Throughout the night, I kept waking up, thinking that I had been dreaming. There was no other explanation as to why I was in Jeffrey Knight’s bed after having a perfect night in with him. Each time I woke, I had to touch him, just to know it was real. A few times, the touching roused him from his slumber and he touched me back. It was no wonder why I was feeling tired. We spent so much time in bed but slept so little.

  Despite my lack of restful sleep, I still woke up early, as morning people are wont to do. As I cuddled with Jeffrey, I felt a sudden and powerful urge to play the violin. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time, and I wanted to follow the sensation while it lasted. I grabbed one of his shirts from the closet, buttoned the middle buttons, and tiptoed out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

  Realizing I didn’t bring my violin in my rush to confront Jeffrey, I grabbed one of his and went into his make-shift studio.

  The room was probably designed to be a study, but Jeffrey sound proofed the small space so he could record ideas and demos as they came to him. Just by looking around the unused room, I could tell that he had not spent much time in there, as there was dust covering the recording equipment.

  Without looking at any music, I just started playing notes as they came to me. I found that they came easily and I liked how they sounded. Not wanting to forget my sudden inspiration, I fiddled with the machines until I found one to record my melody.

  I didn’t realize how long I had been in the room until Jeffrey opened the door, wearing his robe. He smiled and rubbed his sleepy eyes at the sight of me deep in concentration.

  “I was afraid that you left in the middle of the night,” he said. “I would have been very concerned about my sexual abilities if that were the case.”

  I laughed as he took the seat next to mine. “I couldn’t sleep. I had music buzzing in my ears.”

  He nodded. “I know how that goes. However, for me, I feel the most artistic at night. My brain’s a noodle in the morning.”

  “Why don’t you put some coffee on and join me?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said, kissing the top of my head before exiting the room. “It’s great to hear you play again. I can’t wait to see what you’ve been working on.”

  I was both nervous and excited to share my music with Jeffrey. Words we
re one thing, but music was an extremely personal thing to share with another person. Music had the power to convey an exact thought or emotion, something that came deep from inside one’s soul. To share it in the rough stages was difficult to do. But, I trusted Jeffrey to hear what I had created. I knew that he would be kind, but honest.

  Moments later, he returned, his hands full of coffee mugs and plates of buttered toast.

  “Can I hear what you’ve done so far?” he asked, setting the dishes down on the coffee table.

  My hands were trembling with nerves. I hadn’t played more than a page of music in front of him in years. What if he didn’t like what I came up with? What if he thought my playing was poor?

  “Relax, Susan,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “I’m not here to critique your work. I just want to hear you play.”

  I nodded, feeling a little reassured. Before I could overthink it, I started from the beginning of my tune. It was upbeat but mysterious and sexy. As I played, I thought about the moment when we both liked each other but were too afraid to tell the other. I felt those emotions flow through my body and into my instrument, telling the story of how we got together.

  When I finished the melody, I went back to the beginning, this time, playing around with the rhythm. When I saw Jeffrey pick up another violin, I stopped.

  “Why’d you quit?” he asked.

  “I thought you were going to play,” I responded, taking a bite of the toast.

  “I was going to play with you. Let’s start from the top.”

  I beamed, feeling absolutely thrilled that Jeffrey was so interested in one of my compositions. A musician of his caliber had never asked me to collaborate with them. I picked up my violin and began from the moment I first saw Jeffrey after years of wondering about him.

  After a few notes, he began to play, following my lead. He listened carefully to my melody and added his own intricate harmonies. He weaved in and out of my song, adding his own unique touches to the piece. The second time we tried it, we both played without any hesitation. We were just two people telling our collective story.