by G. Gregory
Different Wednesdays
By: G. Gregory
A Silk’s Vault Electronic Publication, in arrangement with author G. Gregory.
Copyright © 2006 by G. Gregory
Cover Design and Art by Dyana Lunaris, © Copyright 2006
Edited by Carol Fortado
Silk’s Vault Publishing
www.silksvault.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in part or whole, in any form or by any means, without permission from both the author and publisher. All characters, incidents, situations, institutions, governments and people are fictional and any similarity to characters or persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Of all the likely places where an eligible man may find an opportunity to pick up women, Home Depot did not make the list, and Peter Franklin never considered it remotely possible. He heard that the best luck befalls one when one is not even looking. This Saturday morning would soon turn out to be living proof of that theory, but it would not pay dividends for several days. As it turns out, both unsuspecting parties would agree every second of delay well worth the wait.
Hardware stores are typically a haven for the male shopper, and Peter proved to be no exception. One might expect to find nearly every aisle stacked with fifty-five gallon drums of testosterone; buy one, get two free; truly a guy’s place. Peter’s mission this morning involved a simple purchase of a new showerhead. The fact that he wandered aimlessly in the electrical supply section instead seemed irrelevant. Remember? Guy’s place. A man never did an “in-and-out” at a Home Depot or any other hardware store for that matter. Wandering is to be expected along with contemplating all the projects you could handle if only you possessed the skills to do so. And so it went with home projects for Peter; best intentions often ended in failure but not before he dropped an additional two hundred dollar investment with a professional to make it right. The good news—it cost nothing to dream of being handy, nor did it hurt to wander a bit.
Little did he realize that his meandering in the electrical department would be the highlight of the trip.
“No, dammit! I don’t care if you have a sitter lined up every fuckin’ day of the week. I don’t want you doin’ that!” said a big voice that Peter heard from an adjacent aisle. The voice carried a sharp, unforgiving edge to it. He already didn’t like its owner.
“But, Jimmy, I need a little break,” protested a much softer female voice. A baby started to cry, and a toddler squealed like he wanted something just out of reach. “I just need a change in scenery, you know? Something for a little while. Something for me. Please?”
“Different, my ass! Why you need things to be different? You don’t need nothin’ different. Things are fine just like they are,” the big voice concluded with an underlying note of finality.
Peter turned the corner and saw the people involved in the one-sided verbal abuse. He spotted a family of four; a sloppy looking man, his wife, an infant on her hip and a toddler howling from the seat of the shopping cart straining to reach for a bag of multi-colored wire nuts hanging on a display hook.
“What’s wrong with me wanting something different?” she challenged. “I need some time to myself, and it’s only on Wednesday mornings for three hours.”
“I’ll say this one more time, bitch,” he huffed, noticing Peter with a split-second glance and lowering his voice, yet made no effort to tone down his anger.
Peter confirmed his dislike of the guy immediately.
The guy leaned closer toward his wife and glowered at her. “You don’t need nothin’ different. Now drop it!”
He never threatened to strike her, but she shrank away like a harsh hand often followed angry words. It angered Peter. The baby cried from what he guessed emulated an all-to-frequent scene at home. The toddler no longer screeched for the bag of wire nuts, instead he attempted to climb out of the cart’s seat and help himself.
“And shut that kid up! Can’t you see I’m tryin’ ta think?”
‘Think,’ thought Peter, ‘how could that be possible?’ Thinking had to be well out of this idiot’s reach. The kind of thinking this guy could handle might include coming in out of the rain, or, more likely, whether he’d have pork rinds or beer nuts with his case of Budweiser. His appearance spoke of an even louder contradiction about the man. Despite wearing an oversized, army fatigue jacket, Peter knew not even the military would claim association with the likes of him short of a dishonorable discharge.
The woman shushed the baby and turned back toward the cart just as the toddler managed to stand in the seat and over reach, losing his balance. The little guy threw both hands toward the illusive wire nuts, oblivious to his immediate peril and began a headlong tumble toward the floor. His mother shrieked in panic as Peter took one quick step and snagged him by the seat of his pants just as the little guy fell over the side of the cart. The child dangled upside down from Peter’s grip, screaming bloody murder despite never hitting the floor.
Peter lifted him up high, looked into his face and grinned, “Gotcha, big guy!”
The mother rushed around the cart to retrieve him, thanking Peter for being there to prevent disaster. Peter started to say something to her, but the big voice angrily interrupted, “Hey man, whatcha doin’ to my kid?”
“Jimmy, he just –” she started to say.
“Shut it!” he snapped, “I’m talkin’ to him.”
From Peter’s perspective, big voice just crossed the line. The abuse escalated far enough and now it included him. The guy took a step toward Peter with an evil rage staining his face. Maybe a moral reflex action or maybe his sense of values pressed his buttons, but Peter uncharacteristically found himself mirroring body language and aggressive posture of the menace that approached. He squared up to directly face the stalking man and pointed at him with a finger and a big voice of his own.
“Back off, dude! Take one more step toward me, and I’ll be obliged to put your freaking lights out. I just saved your son from serious injury. Show a little respect to someone who just helped your family. And while you’re at it, show your family a little respect too.”
Big voice stopped in his tracks, mouth agape, a look of confusion now on his face. Peter figured this guy’s type hesitated only long enough to decide if he really felt like getting his ass kicked or not. Peter knew if an ass-kicking needed to happen, it needed to happen now while the adrenaline surged through his sturdy frame. It would not be much of a fight. Big voice would be disabled in a flash with the martial arts Peter mastered but never used in anger. This circumstance presented Peter with the only time he ever wished he could practice his skills to inflict justifiable, and not to mention, well-deserved pain and suffering.
Big voice did take another step, although with an entirely different body language that spelled compliance and submission. Peter held the abusive prick by the throat with a simple look straight into his eyes. The toddler shrunk back in his mother’s arms as his dad reached for him, struggling to escape. The guy snatched the child away from her and roughly tried to maneuver his legs back into the cart to reseat him. Big voice turned his back on Peter without saying another word and pushed the cart and the screaming child down the aisle.
“Lisa! C’mon. We’re leavin’!” demanded her husband as he walked away and turned the corner at the far end of the aisle.
She obediently moved to follow him, casting a glance at Peter with eyes that offered a sincere apology. But those sad doleful eyes held more than an apology. They offered a silent cry for something else. Peter saw it and immediately recognized the depth and power of something alive inside of her that was far greater than anything the big voice could ever see. She reached out for him through the tawny eyes of a lioness that
shone with startling clarity of need and passion. She took his breath away. A different kind of rush surged through his veins, something primal and urgent causing his heart to flutter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Thank you for helping us.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Peter asked, concerned for her safety and hoping that retaliation for big voice’s defeat did not include a thrashing later in private. He knew it was none of his business, but then she touched him with those eyes and suddenly, it became his business.
“I’ll be fine. Again, thank you for helping my son and for your…I’d better go now.”
Peter pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket, scribbled his cell phone number on it and handed it to her. “I’d be honored to make your Wednesday mornings different.”
“Lisa!” bellowed big voice from the next aisle.
She looked at the number and then back at Peter. “I…I…have to go now.”
She wadded up the scrap and stuffed it into the pocket of her buckskin jacket. Peter stood there, frozen in place. The power in her gaze held him under a spell never cast on him before. . An overwhelming urge rushed through him, a powerful demand for contact; a kiss, a touch, a taste, but he couldn’t move. Everything happened so quickly. From nearly having to disable big voice, to a woman who just fucked his soul with her eyes, he stood helplessly immobilized with a pounding heart and a flush that thrilled him to the core.
As she turned the corner at the end of the aisle, she looked back at him quickly. Maybe he imagined it, but the briefest hint of a smile crossed her lips. Then she disappeared. It felt like a switch clicked off, releasing him from his trance. He exhaled heavily, not realizing that he forgot to breathe. He couldn’t believe that he boldly suggested being a part of her Wednesday morning. But at the same time, her eyes left him no other choice. She left him with the prospects of suffering a slow death as he waited for four days to pass in hopes she would take him up on his offer.
* * * *
He stayed up long enough to hear Letterman’s monologue before rolling over to turn off the bedside lamp. His clock promised only fifteen more minutes until Wednesday arrived. Would she call or would this torture of anticipation turn out to be an empty fantasy? He drifted off with visions of her haunting gaze and the faint suggestion of a smile that promised all things sexual.
At 12:12AM the phone jarred him out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He fumbled for the cell in the dark, not even bothering to turn on the light.
“Hello?” he croaked, his voice still tangled in sudden deep sleep.
“He leaves for work at 7AM,” she whispered.
Peter knew exactly who owned the whisper that filled his ear. His heart knew as well, and fluttered with a couple of skipped beats, shaking loose a rush of desire that flooded his system. A stirring in his loins automatically drew his free hand under the covers to answer the demand for a slow, steady squeeze.
“I’m glad you called. Honestly, I thought I’d never see or hear from you again,” he said softly.
“I had to talk to you.” Pausing before continuing to whisper. “I just had to.”
“Are you okay? Is it safe for you to be on the phone with me?”
“It’s safe for now. He’s out drinking with some friends and won’t be home for a while yet. I may have to hang up without a lot of notice when he comes home. He’d kill me if he caught me talking to you.”
“Jesus,” Peter replied. “This is too risky for you. I mean…I have no one to worry about here except myself. But you. I mean your husband didn’t seem too tolerant of –”
Imagining big voice slapping her around unsettled him. He could not in good conscience put her at risk, no matter what he felt and no matter how urgent the feelings.
“He’s not my husband. The youngest is his, but—it’s a long story.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t feel good about putting you at risk.”
She spoke with quiet conviction. “No. This is my decision. If you want to change your mind, I’ll understand, but I’ve made my decision, and the consequences are mine to manage.”
Peter said nothing. Part of him wanted to apologize for leading her on and just hang up; cutting short what he knew would be a very dangerous affair. The rest of him remembered the sensation of sexual energy that emanated from her eyes when they first met. That’s the part of him that forced another squeeze of his hardening manhood, making a compelling case for exploring the coincidence that lay before him.
He didn’t realize it at first but they endured a period of silence where neither of them spoke. Peter did not find the absence of conversation awkward or uncomfortable. He was too busy listening to the sound of her breathing and felt the same powerful presence he’d experienced when he’d looked into her eyes at the hardware store.
Her soft voice broke the silence. “I knew I’d see you again. I knew it even before you gave me your number. I felt it. Not sure I understood it, but I felt something inside of me. When your eyes never left mine, I felt it strongest. Something was there. Something powerful that drew me into you. I knew it then. I just had to see you.”
Her explanation stunned him.
“I just had to," she whispered that same phrase again.
Lust surged in him with an intensity that caught him by surprise. Urgency boiled with an uncontrollable wantonness.
He shivered with desire. “Something happened inside me as well. I saw it in your eyes. I’ve never been touched so deeply as when you looked back at me.”
“Yes…for me too.”
“I had to see you again too and desperately hoped you’d call me,” he confided.
Again they fell silent, listening only to each other’s breath, each wrapped in the power of sexual energy that built so rapidly it threatened to consume them both. He stroked himself gently and imagined what she might be doing on the other end of the line. Delicious sex mingled in her voice and in the sound of her breathing. Thinking of her touching herself made him flex into his hand. God, to be wrapped in her wetness and her heat; those images swelled in him like a huge wave.
“What will you do to make my Wednesday different?” she asked softly.
He wanted to blurt out that he’d do anything she wanted. He wanted to confess his endless lust and there were no limits in sight to what he wanted to do to her. He wanted many things for himself, but most of all he wanted to unleash the lioness he saw behind those incredible eyes. He wanted to release the animal he saw there and turn it all around. His rush would come from pleasing her. Somehow he knew she hungered for kindness and a gentle, generous touch.
“I’d like to make time for you to enjoy yourself…your time with me. I heard your conversation with your man and that you wanted a change in scenery—that you needed a break.” He paused, uncertainty creeping in. “Look, I don’t know your situation, but my gut says it’s not good. When I looked into your eyes I felt a passion in you that I don’t think is getting a chance to discover itself. It just seemed like you need a kind and patient hand for a change.”
She began to cry softly. “That would be nice. I knew instantly that you were a good soul. And I’m sorry I’m being so emotional, it’s just that…I’m not sure I’d know how to relax. Jimmy is so…so…” her voice trailed off.
“Does he hurt you?”
“He…sometimes he gets so angry. It’s not what you think…” she started to say.
“I’m not thinking anything. I’m listening.”
“See, he never really hits me that much. He just gets loud and his words hurt so deeply sometimes. When we have sex, it’s like…he gets rough…like it’s something he takes from me. Like I owe it to him.” She sobbed once again. “It’s like three minutes of being raped. I just let him do it and pray it only lasts a little while.”
A bitter rage rose in Peter, mixing with heart-felt compassion. “I’m so sorry, Lisa.”
She sobbed quietly. “You…you used my name. It sounded good coming from you, and…you know I don’t even know
yours.”
“I’m Peter. I didn’t want to write it down with my number for fear of putting you in harm’s way.”
“Peter…Peter. I like that. You looked like a Peter. A kind and gentle Peter.”
“Thank you, Lisa. Kind and gentle looked long overdue for you.”
“I’ve never known kind and gentle. Jimmy’s the only man I’ve ever been with and…well…what I just described about him is all I’ve ever had.”
Silence once again crept in and smothered their conversation. Each retreated into their own heads, lingering with private thoughts, trying to see into what the dawn of a different Wednesday would bring.
Finally after an extended silence. “Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Will you touch me with a gentle hand?”
“Yes, Lisa. My touch will be whatever we discover you need. We’ll find out together. My touch will be your touch…your choice.”
They did not speak for many beats of their hearts. Her breathing changed; a shallower, halting cadence. At first he thought she might have been crying again. Then images of her fingers gliding between her thighs struck him.
“Peter, will you touch me now?”
It sounded like she lay next to him. The image in his mind revealed creamy white skin, naked and begging for his touch.
“Yes, I’ll touch you.”
His free hand continued to stroke slowly. His penis twitched with anticipation, begging for the warm wet depths that waited to be explored.
“Spread your legs for me,” he said softly. “But be patient. Don’t touch yourself. Not yet.”
He closed his eyes and saw her lying on her back with her legs parted for him. His eyes pinched tighter, and he disappeared into his lust, living in the tips of her fingers. She would feel his touch despite the distance between them.
“I want you to think about what I’m saying to you. I’m going to talk slowly and tell you what I want you to do. Okay?”
“Yes.”
