Rusty Lovers

by Lilah Nichols

  He heard rather than saw her move closer, turning and curling her legs up under her. One hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up towards hers. Her eyes were warm, fringed by thick dark lashes and a trace of eyeliner. “Let's keep this feeling that we have between us for now. It's too new. Too young. We can wait until we are sure there's something more there before involving the rest of the world.”

  He almost laughed at that, considering they were out in the open on a busy afternoon in the park.

  But she lay her hand on his thigh, the inside of his thigh as she leaned in. Her lips met his, soft and gently caressing. Her hand slid up to his crotch, lining her fingers up along the ridge of him. He gave a little gasp, and she took advantage, deepening the kiss, her mouth slanting over his, her tongue teasing his lips.

  He had been at half-mast since he saw her, and now arousal pooled into his cock, making it twitch in his pants. He hadn't had anyone fondle him in a long time. Not for years, since the time he and Abby had finally decided they were done with each other sexually.

  Eliza, with her soft kisses and curvy backside, had captured his interest and made desire pop up and take notice. He liked her bold caresses, and wanted more of those, even here, in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of the park.

  She pulled back, looked in his eyes again, and then dipped her head for a second kiss. Only this time, this time she caressed her thumb over him, dragging the pad back and forth over the head of his shaft.

  “Ooooh!” He couldn't seem to form words. His hips pushed forward of their own volition pressing his genitals up into her hand, wanting to feel more. He wasn't used to it, a woman interested in this kind of easy fun.

  Her kiss was gentle as she teased him. Back and forth, back and forth. His cock was fully hard under her hand. Soon he was a quivering mess. It had been so long. He didn't think she intended to stroke him off there in the park, but damn, it made his cock twitch even more just thinking she might.

  And it was as if she sensed it, that they were about to cross a line that shouldn't be crossed on the first date. Her hand drifted away, and she rested her forehead against his. “That's enough of that for now,” she teased. Her tone was playful as she held him close. “Next time,” she was chuckling now, “Next time maybe we better have a more conventional kind of date. In a restaurant, where we can talk by candlelight and get to know each other better.”

  She sat up and tipped the last sip of wine into her mouth. “Maybe early next week? You could make us a reservation somewhere?”

  He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or confused at the way she alternated between making the decisions and insisting on his role as a gentleman. It was different, but it made things easier. He knew exactly what was expected of him. She was so outspoken and yet so attractive. So confident.

  She had found a way to grab his interest, literally, and make sure he had no doubt about the chemistry between them. And then in the next breath made sure he knew there was a plan for their next encounter and she was trusting him to arrange it.

  He rolled forward up onto his feet, almost springing off the wall. She was looking at her phone, frowning at the time. “I’m going to have to get going,” she sighed. “Although I am not ready for this afternoon to end.”

  He took her hand and helped steady her as she uncurled her legs and rose to her feet. She dusted herself off while he packed up her Tupperware and set it back in the basket, corking his wine.

  They both lingered, not willing to let the moment end. And when it was time to leave, he let her draw him into her arms and press her face against his chest. He thought she might have even rubbed her face on his sweater. “You even smell good,” she said softly.

  He tightened his arms around her for a second and then stepped back. “I'll call you Sunday about dinner arrangements for next week.” He wanted to kiss her again, but she glanced at the time again and hurried away, stopping to turn and reassure him.

  “This is really going to be wonderful, Frank. And don't worry, I'll text you before Sunday.”

  ***

  Frank stood there long after she ducked into her Subaru, standing and staring. The sunshine was still there, the breeze just as gentle. The same curl of heat was unfolding inside his gut. He thought about the way she had laid her hand on him and felt his shaft start to stir again. He felt like a geek in high school again, and the pretty girl in the front row had just asked him to the prom. Of course, his prom had been a fiasco. The gymnasium was decorated with balloons and streamers, and he'd worn one of his father's suits. St. Matthew's had been an all boy school, so he wasn't the only one who had scrambled to find a date.

  Long after her car disappeared from sight, he smiled and walked away, wondering what her Senior prom had been like, making a mental note to ask her about it next time. His car was where he left it, and he drove home still thinking about her. Still planning.

  Arranging dinner was going to be easy. He knew exactly where he wanted to take her for dinner, a little Italian place he knew in Center City. It had gotten a little touristy lately, but he was sure Marco would be able to find a quiet table and maybe even throw a red and white checkered tablecloth over it. After that, adding a vintage looking candlestick would complete the scene. He wanted to really wow her with the ambiance and the corny attempt at recreating that spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp.

  It was an easy decision to take her there, where he knew the wine list and the menu, and the staff, of course. They might wonder who the lovely woman at his side was, though. Maybe this was going to take a bit more planning. He didn't want anyone asking where Abby was, or thinking he was stepping out on his wife.

  The street outside his apartment building was quiet. He lined up his Accord and hit the switch for the automated parallel parking. He never did that, always parked manually, and yet today, everything seemed different. He held his hands poised above the wheel as the computer did its thing, waiting to grab the wheel and steer should the system suddenly fail and go off course.

  But trying the auto-parker felt right, trying new things felt right, like he was finally getting back in gear, finally in motion again, after being in limbo for so long. Finally part of the future. He knew that sounded insane. But technology had moved on and while he resisted, he resolved to push forward with it. Eliza motivated him to catch up. To not tread water anymore, while the rest of the world moved on.

  He had been stationary. Not wanting to move on from his failed marriage. He still didn't see why it had to fail. They had been college sweet hearts and remained together after graduation. They had both moved to South Jersey and gotten jobs in the school system. Between the two of them, they had scraped together enough for the security deposit on a minuscule apartment. Making ends meet had been tough, but at least then they had been into each other, excited to see each other.

  And then somehow one child, 5 or 6 job changes and 3 housing upgrades later things had started to fizzle. Abby had started working late, going out with her co-workers after work and not returning until midnight. He should have known way back then things were so wrong they couldn't be fixed.

  Their sexual encounters seemed more like a chore for her, a chore she resented. At first, he had worked harder, bringing her flowers, arranging to leave Ben with his grandmother and taking her for a weekend at the shore.

  Looking back now, he wondered why she hadn't asked for a divorce sooner. There hadn't been anything romantic between them in ages. They had been friends, decent parents. Two people who lived in the same house, but not in the same bedroom. Each doing their part to raise the kid.

  Frank realized he was still sitting in his car, and switched the engine off. He gathered up his things, and went into the house. He needed to start making a list. Because he hadn't realized how much the spark of romance he felt could ignite his life. Now that he'd felt it again, he couldn't remember when the last time that joy had leaped inside him. Back in college? Sneaking into the girl's dormitory? Ooooh, or reading a really kinky le
tter in Penthouse, with a take charge kind of woman, who knew what she wanted and went after it.

  He sat at his desk, stacked the legal documents and correspondence off to the side and started planning his next date. His cock hardened, wondering if she'd run her hand over him under that red checkered table cloth. Oh, God, he hoped so. He squeezed his thighs together and shifted his weight side to side, so the fabric tightened over his shaft and rubbed back and forth slightly. The arousal coursed through him, returning like an old friend. More like a wave breaking over a damn and chastising him for keeping it at bay too long.

  How long had he been moving through life just making do, just taking the ordinary and the day to day? Going to work, teaching his students, going to family holiday gatherings without ever wondering where the joy had gone? He was done with that. He hadn't been the one to call a divorce lawyer. Would never have been. He was old school, and a marriage was meant to last forever. But this sudden freedom... to hell with his dreary feelings of rejection. No more crying over not being wanted. Eliza sure as hell made him feel wanted.

  As if on cue, his cell phone buzzed in his right front pocket. He wrestled it out of his pocket and saw her name in his text queue. “Today was perfect. Thank you. Next time will be even better.”

  He realized was smiling so hard his cheeks were starting to ache.

  Chapter 3

  It was hard for Eliza to keep him, and their budding romance a secret. Every time she talked to Mother or the kids, the happiness came bubbling up and it was work to thrust it back down and sound normal. Jenny had begun asking how the speed dating went almost immediately and didn’t seem to want to be put off by platitudes. “It was exactly what you would expect it to be. A hotel air quotes “ballroom” set up to look like a receiving line at a wedding.” Sometimes her daughter reminded her so much of Jim it made her want to cry. “You would have been out of there as soon as you stepped into the room. But I took a few turns, sat at tables with men who are 45 and either claiming to be single because their wife ignores them or still single because they have a mother who picks their socks up off the floor, and no woman in her right mind wants to take over that role.”

  “But seriously mom, there must have been something about it that seemed positive. Sooner or later someone new might turn up there, or I have this new website that does group activities and even provides background checks.”

  “Honey, are you hearing yourself? Have we gotten to the place and time where a background check is a prerequisite for a date?” Maybe finding love in the computer age was going to be a very scary thing. For everyone else, not her. She already had stumbled onto someone fabulous.

  Her lengthy hesitation must have aroused Jenny’s suspicion, or perhaps it was just a different tone she heard in her mother’s voice.

  “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” Her voice was all too knowing.

  Eliza released the breath she’d been holding and gave up. Sometimes her daughter was too intuitive for her own good. “Well, yes…“

  “I knew it! I knew it. I was telling Josh you were busy doing something more than working later than usual.” Eliza could practically hear her daughter doing a victory dance on the other end of the phone.

  “Jenny… Jenny!” Eliza kicked herself for letting the cat out of the bag. “It’s not that big a deal, Jen. It was just nice to find someone to talk to, don’t go telling your brother or making a big deal out of this yet.”

  “Oh my God, mom, I won’t tell anyone. But admit it, I was right, that in-person middle-aged dating group was the way to go. I knew you’d never sort out the messaging and profile reading from online dating.”

  “Yes, you were right. The less technology involved, the better for me. And I mean it. Not a word to Josh. Or your grandmother, either.” The last thing she needed was to have her mom prying into her new romance. “The last thing I need is her advice or her meddling.”

  Eliza had been fending off suggestions and dating advice from her mother, as well as the members of her mother’s book club and knitting group. All of them were very dear to her, her mother’s staunch friends, but Eliza couldn’t help feeling as if even after forty years, they didn’t really know her. “You should join my gardening club, Eliza, dear,” one of her mother’s most elegant friends had suggested. “There are always younger men who give presentations.” Those kinds of comments made Eliza want to laugh. The young man might be anywhere from twenty to seventy, and he probably worked at the local gardening supply shop.

  They had no idea what Eliza needed, the private woman deep inside. The only one she was trusting to find the perfect match was herself. She felt good about how it was going so far. She was eager for their next encounter which happened to be on Tuesday. Eliza managed to squeak out of work early to get home before five. Frank was due to pick her up around 6:30, and she wanted an extra long shower and time to try to coerce her hair into staying put.

  Eliza stood in her closet, hoping something would speak to her. She almost wished her daughter Jenny would drop in and pick out the perfect outfit. Pants didn't seem right for a dinner date, so she shoved all the pant hangars back into the depths of the closet and focused on what she had left. There wasn't much. Apparently her current wardrobe consisted of work clothes, work clothes, and more work clothes.

  She finally settled on a sharp navy shirt dress, espadrilles and a white sweater. Maybe she looked like she was headed down to cocktails at the yacht club, but classic never went out of style, did it? She made a mental note to ask Jenny for some advice on getting her wardrobe out of the distant past. She definitely needed to add some color and some youthfulness to the project. It surprised her how neutral and practical everything was. Probably because she hadn't been feeling youthful or colorful for a long time.

  Oh yes, Jenny would probably have a lot to say, and want to take a trip out to the outlet shops. Maybe it was time to stop dressing like Kate Middleton. She definitely needed her daughter's advice, or to start watching more of the makeover shows on TLC.

  A shirt dress didn't scream feminine or sexy, but it had a nice slit at the bottom that would show a little leg at the dinner table. And she could tell from the warmth in Frank's eyes when she opened the door he wasn't worried about fashion trends or soft and fuzzy sweaters. His gaze roamed slowly over her, taking in the belted dress that accentuated her waist and the gap below the last button revealed a glimpse of warm skin as she walked. His nervousness evaporated as he realized how much her ‘dress casual’ attire reminded him of the female professors at County College. “Just like having lunch with one of the faculty,” he reminded himself.

  He came in and put his hands into his coat pockets, looking around the foyer while she collected her purse.

  "This is quite a nice place you've got here," he said.

  Eliza couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. The house was small, with the original 1950s metal cabinets and painted wood trim. The hardwood floors had polished up nicely in the living room and foyer, where they stood. The best feature of the house by far was the enormous picture window overlooking the front yard.

  "It's a work in progress, and I know, whoever lived here before I bought it should have hired a professional instead of doing the work himself. You should have seen it when I bought it. Everything was dark, dingy, and probably the best part about it was whatever he hadn't tried to update. There's a bit of original charm under all his efforts at home improvement.”

  Frank was his usual quiet self. “There’s nothing wrong with fixing things one small project at a time.” His hair was brushed back, parted on the side, still slightly wavy. She envied him the ease with which it fell into place and stayed there, and made a mental note to run her fingers through it to test it, to determine if it was natural or some kind of pomade that kept his locks in check. He had traded in his suit for a sports coat over spotless pressed trousers. Maybe he didn’t even own a pair of jeans, or if he did he only wore them for raking leaves or shoveling snow
.

  She checked her hair one last time in the mirror beside the door, patting a stray curl into place. "My son, Josh, spends the summers and winter break with me. Sometimes he's home on the weekends, if his girlfriend is in town. Two years ago he went away to college and I didn't see him for weeks, and now, since he met Lauren, he’s suddenly a commuter, home all the time and only going off to classes."

  Frank walked her to the car door and opened it for her, gently closing the door once he was sure she was settled neatly inside. She watched his profile as he slid behind the wheel and then backed out of her drive. “I am fine with however you want to handle it, Eliza,” Frank finally spoke when he was out on the highway and headed downtown. “With your kids, I mean, and the rest of your family. There’s no point in rushing around with news until we’ve had a chance to be sure of it ourselves.”

  For a split second, she thought he was being standoffish. Was he having second thoughts? Eliza peered at him in the dim light. He didn’t look tense or strained.

  He turned and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Eliza. I like this easy fun attraction. I am a little out of practice, and the culture of the entire country has changed. I’ll do my best to catch up.” Eliza relaxed back into her seat and balanced her elbow on the armrest, her hand half extended to him. He picked up her proffered hand, and almost giggled when she traced a figure eight on his palm. Such a simple gesture, but one that got his heart pounding. It was so normal, and yet so suggestive.

  “And just like that,” he continued, “ It’s like you can sense when I am running on and on, and find a way to make me feel wonderful.” His hand was warm and reassuring, and his driving was still relaxed, as he threaded the car through traffic and then off onto a side street.

  “You don’t have to, Frank.” He shot her a quizzing look as they turned into a small parking garage and pushed a button for a ticket. “You don’t have to catch up. With the culture where a man doesn’t know if opening a door is an insult or a compliment. Or where spending your day with your nose buried in your phone is considered normal.”