The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind

by Debra Salonen

  Although, to her surprise, he didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

  "We should go, huh?"

  He looked around. "I don't see anyone waiting for our table. I'll leave a healthy tip to make up for the extra coffee. Would you like anything else?"

  "A box for my leftovers?"

  He motioned for their waiter. "We'll take this with us, and bring the check, please."

  To Judy, he said, "I'm going to suggest something spontaneous and, as Fletcher would say, not my usual modus operandi. How 'bout we swing by your house to pick up a swimsuit then we go to my place and hop in the pool?"

  He made the idea sound casual and lighthearted. A lark. Two kids jumping in the cement pond together. "Do we need suits?" she asked before her good sense could put the kibosh on the idea.

  She pretended to hold up an imaginary piece of paper and scan it. "Yep. There it is on my Bucket List. Number thirty-seven. Go skinny dipping with a judge."

  Wiley let out a loud hoot that turned a few heads.

  Judy blushed. Her heart thumped wildly at the naughtiness of her suggestion. Pru would be shocked. Mom horrified. Nancy, to Judy's profound surprise, would probably cheer.

  But she made a crisp check mark in the air, just for the heck of it. Did she care what anyone else thought when the twinkle in Wiley's eye said, quite clearly, "Hell, yes. Let's do this?"

  Hell, no.

  Chapter Five

  Brazen. That's me, Judy thought half an hour later as she marched stark-ass naked down the steps of the Sunset Magazine-perfect pool. Mature trees encircled the lush landscaping of the oversize lot providing a sense of privacy that may or may not have been valid. But the neighborhood was as quiet as they come in a town this size, and since she was the one to suggest this idiocy, she could hardly back down now.

  The chlorine-scented water sent chills up her back. Her nipples puckered and she sucked in her gut when the water topped her thighs. She sank chin-deep and started a slow crawl to get used to the temperature.

  "How's the temp?" Wiley asked, tossing a couple of towels on a nearby chaise lounge.

  "A jolt at first, but quite lovely actually."

  He'd changed in the house, while she'd used the cabana adjacent to the pool. A large dark-colored towel--purple? Navy? She couldn't tell in the low lighting--hung on his hips, exposing his upper body to her view. And what a view it was! The mat of chest hair--a salt and pepper mix--encircled both nipples and narrowed to a V at his trim waist.

  "Good lord. I know you said you run, but how far? Ten? Twenty miles a day?"

  He strolled to the deep end--the shadowy part. "Not anymore. Running became a compulsion after Fletcher's mother died, but Julie made me tone down my habit. I still do the occasional 10K, but my morning routine is only a few miles. I have to remind myself I'm fifty-five, not twenty-five."

  The towel dropped and the body launched in a smooth arc, leaving a small entry-point splash. He might not use the pool much, but he's no slouch in the water, Judy thought. I bet he's good at everything he does.

  The thought made her lady parts tingle. And the sensual feeling of the water against bare skin added to her heightened awareness. She dipped under the water and swam to the far end of the pool. Two could hide in the shadows.

  When she surfaced, she blew out the breath she'd been holding and blinked away the chlorinated water. "This feels great, but it just hit me--aren't we supposed to wait an hour after eating before going in the water?"

  Wiley moved to within an arm's length. "Good question. Could be a generational thing. I remember my mother enforcing that rule, but I don't think Julie ever told Fletcher and his friends they couldn't swim after eating." He chuckled. "And believe me, young boys are always eating."

  "I'll take your word on that. I only have nieces." As usual, she felt a swift syringe of regret release in her chest. She'd moved past the point of polishing off a pint of Ben and Jerry's whenever the subject of children came up, but a part of her would forever kick herself for missing out on something so human, so normal.

  As if cued from a prompter, Wiley said, "Do you mind me asking? How come you didn't have kids?"

  The question always came up. A few times, she'd replied, snottily, "Do you mind me asking how come you did?"

  For Wiley, she used her standard, if flippant, one-liner. "Having a child is a bad idea when you're married to one."

  He paddled closer, never breaking eye contact. A lawyer trick, she bet. Without intending to, she also blurted out, "I had an abortion ten days before our first anniversary. I was happy, but my husband was completely and utterly freaked out by the idea of becoming a father. He begged, hounded and badgered me to get rid of it. He said we had the rest of our lives to start a family, gave me a million reasons why then was not the right time. He wore me down and I gave in," she admitted, the pain and regret still blazingly alive and fresh even decades later.

  "Unfortunately, I developed an infection and wound up in the hospital on IV antibiotics. Somehow this sort of cauterized my fallopian tubes. I planned to go in and have them opened up, but we never had the money. You know how it is."

  Or did he? Probably not. He lived in a virtual palace compared to any place she'd ever called home.

  She pushed off and swam as hard and fast as she could for the shallow end. Her lungs burned from the effort when she stopped, turned and hooked her elbows on the rounded lip of the pool. What am I doing here, her mind cried? I don't belong in a place like this.

  She pulled her feet under her and stood. "I should probably be going."

  She marched up the steps with a much heavier heart than she'd had going in.

  "Judy, wait. You can't leave just because things get heavy. Story of my life. I wasn't judging you for not having children. I'd never criticize a woman for making the most gut-wrenching decision of her life. Julie had an abortion in high school. She didn't tell me about it until a year or so before she died. She wrote a poem about how heartbreaking the choice was for her and how much she'd hated her parents and her sister for twisting her arm. As her pain got worse, depression took over and I honestly believe that regret contributed to her decision to end her life."

  She paused. Not because he had an abortion story of his own, but because of the "story of my life" comment. In Wiley's world, people he loved left--two wives, his son. You didn't have to be a loser to know loss.

  She did an about face and belly-flopped into the water. "Okay. I'll stay. But only because my leftovers are in your fridge and I don't want to paw around trying to find them."

  She rolled to her back and floated, her extra weight adding buoyancy. The stars sparkled with a great deal more wattage than they did in her streetlight-dense part of town. She lifted her arm to point out a satellite arcing silently across the night sky but a whoosh of water startled her. Jaws making a tentative pass? No, silly. Something far more dangerous.

  Wiley broke the surface a few inches from her prone, naked body. He stood in the chest deep water, rivulets streaming from his shoulders, his wet hair slicked back. The look of desire in his eyes flashed as clear as a neon sign: I want sex with you now.

  Judy's heart stopped beating for a full second. Maybe two.

  Then her butt sank, her boobs floated and she floundered like a wet cat.

  He caught her arm and pulled her to him. Her toes didn't quite touch the bottom, but that didn't matter because every other body part lined up nicely, including his erect penis that just happened to fit between her legs.

  "Do you mind if I kiss you?"

  Good grief. Was he the most polite horny man she'd ever met? "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, just kiss me, dammit."

  And damned if he didn't taste like the Greek god Poseidon.

  Wiley plundered her mouth greedily. What was it about this woman that made him as eager as a teenager getting laid for the first time? Yes, it had been eight months since his last sexual encounter. But, he was old. Self-control was his middle name. Ask anybody. Anyone but Judy Banger. With her, he was
one jerk on his wank stick away from shooting his wad.

  "I didn't plan for this," he admitted, breathless and a little flummoxed after ending what felt like the most sensual, honest, haven't-I-been-kissing-you-all-my-life kiss he'd ever experienced. Were they really going to do this? Did he even own a box of prophylactics? He didn't think so, unless Fletcher left some behind.

  She rested her forearms on his shoulders and bobbed lightly, her buoyancy enhanced by her breasts, which sparkled like white lily pads in the sketchy light. Her turgid nipples brushed against his chest on each upward bounce, making his jaws clench from the effort it took not to fondle and suckle the breasts he'd been dreaming about for weeks.

  "Believe it or not, neither did I," she said, glancing at him with a shy smile. "Dumb, huh? Since when did 'let's go skinny-dipping' end with a handshake and peck on the cheek? Mom always said my impulses were going to get me in trouble."

  Her tone sounded sad and embarrassed when she mentioned her mother. He pulled her closer in a hug. Her breasts squashed between them, pillows of fleshy softness. "We don't have to take this to the next level, Judy. We're adults. We possess will-power and self-control."

  Her right hand dropped and her hips shifted to give access. When her fingers closed around his penis, Wiley sucked in a gasp that included a few drops of pool water. He coughed and choked, but she didn't let go. Instead, her other hand fondled his balls.

  Focus. Her fingers fit him perfectly. The water added unexpected friction and lubrication. Pull. Release. Pull. Somehow they'd managed to back up to the wall. He grabbed the sides of the pool to assist his legs, which trembled uselessly. He watched her watching him respond, the light and water lending a magnifying affect. She licked her lips. When he copied the motion with his thumb, she sucked it in, rhythmically matching the manipulation of his cock.

  "Ah, god," he cried, as the pressure built to explosion point. His breath caught in his chest, the blood left his brain and shot to the central core of his being. His head fell back as he gave into the sensation. Moments, later--embarrassingly fast if he stopped to think about it--the runaway freight train of cum plowed through the brick wall of propriety. He roared the instant his completion erupted. She dropped her head to his chest like a long-distance runner crossing the finish line, her arm reflexively working the last bit of semen out with every residual thrust of his hips.

  "Holy shit," he murmured. "How the hell did that happen? I'm so sorry."

  Her head popped up. "You are?" She pushed back, treading water. "Why? You didn't like it?"

  He grabbed her upper arms with both hands and crushed her to him. "Like it? Fuck," he shouted. "I loved it. That's not the point. You're my guest, my date. I didn't bring you here to satisfy some latent male fantasy. I took advantage...gracelessly...in under five minutes, for god's sake. I apologize."

  She cocked her head and stared at him several seconds before bursting into laughter. "You're serious. You think you've broken some kind of male Martha Stewart code. Like...always let your guests cum--the c.u.m. kind--first." She patted his cheek as if he were a child who spilled red wine on a white tablecloth. "Wiley, it's okay to shoot your wad when a girl's yanking your dick. It's not okay to do it yourself in front of girls while wearing a trench coat, but in the privacy of your own pool with an overly friendly date, then anything goes."

  He blinked, shook his head and laughed. And it felt good. He felt good--more alive than he had in years.

  "You might want your pool guy to up the chlorine, though," she added with a mischievous wink.

  He kissed her hard and fast. "I get it, now."

  She cocked her head, questioning.

  "I get why my son adores you. I get why men are willing to risk death to be with you. I...get...you, Judy Banger." Did I almost say love? Good lord, I think I did. Where did that come from? The question bore careful deliberation.

  Her expression turned from shocked to skeptical. "Well...that's nice. But it could be the testosterone talking." She wiggled free of his hold and kicked off, shooting with surprising speed and agility for the steps. She rose out of the water gracefully, her lush body shedding water like an old world statue in the rain. "I should probably be going, Wiley. I have to teach my class in the morning."

  He followed her lead, pulling himself out of the deep end where he'd dropped his towel. He dried off quickly and yanked on the sweat pants, flip-flops and T-shirt he'd brought outside. He paced beside the door of the cabana deliberately postponing the trial going on inside his mind. Could I love her? How is that even possible? The jumble of emotions coursing through his mind and body made the feelings he'd had for both his wives seem pallid by comparison. Third time's a charm? Or three strikes you're out? Which was it?

  "Gorgeous place, Wiley," she said closing the cabana door tightly. "The bathroom makes me want to redecorate my whole house."

  "Nerve block number seven, I think."

  "Pardon?"

  "Julie would go in periodically for a procedure to ease her pain. It worked for a few months in the beginning. A few weeks toward the end. I could point out projects all over the house that she tackled during those respites. This--" He pointed at the small, charming building so perfect it could have been airlifted into place from some exotic island resort. "--was one of her last. There's a hairdryer in the vanity, if you want it."

  She fluffed out her damp blonde waves. "I'm good. Thanks."

  He held out his hand and, after a momentary hesitation, she took it. "Can we sit for a minute? I want to make sure we're okay with what happened."

  She squeezed his fingers--bringing back the memory of her hand squeezing a different part of his anatomy. "I'm fine, Wiley. You didn't do anything wrong."

  Once seated under the lighted umbrella above the glass and teak table, he admitted, "I feel like a cad. I got off, but it wasn't good for you."

  "I wouldn't say that. I was very turned on, and when you came, I climaxed. Maybe not your classic starbursts and bottle rockets, but definitely the safe and sane type of fireworks they sell nowadays."

  "You're a terrible liar."

  She covered her face with her hands. "Okay. So, my coochie didn't get cooed. No big deal. I'm not sorry about the hand job. To be honest, I've tried screwing in a pool and it's really not as cool as they make it look in the movies. The water messes with my internal lubrication. Besides, I've been trying to cut back...so getting your rocks off actually worked out for the best."

  "'Cut back'?"

  Even in the dim light he could see her blush.

  "I'm fifty-four, Wiley. A few months ago, I decided life was passing me by. I'd become invisible and was on the verge of drying up completely. Over the past couple of years, I tried every online dating service on the planet. Men my age want girls Clarice's age. So, I told myself, screw it. I'd have fun any time, any way, with anybody who asked." She paused to give him a serious look. "Within reason."

  He put his hand on her knee and squeezed gently, supportively.

  "Buddy Fusco and I had been going out as friends. I knew he wanted more but I resisted. Then, one day, I thought, 'What the hell am I waiting for?' The rest is history."

  "Unfortunate timing, but not your fault."

  She shrugged. "That's what I tell myself. Then Jed came along. I'm blaming our affair on PTSD."

  "Who's Jed?"

  "The contractor who built my deck. We were both mourning Buddy and one thing led to another...for a week or two. I was his Mrs. Robinson. He was my pre-Star Wars' Harrison Ford. But his work took him to Tahoe where he found the love of his life. I'm really happy for him. I mean that."

  Wiley believed her. And he sure as hell couldn't condemn her considering what he'd done with Wendy, his late wife's married sister. "We all have things in our past we wished we could do over."

  She shrugged. "Hmm...now, that's what you don't get about me, Wiley. I'm not apologizing for Buddy or Jed. Or for what happened in the hotel room with your son and the others. I had a good time. A real good time, act
ually. Was it dirty? Sexy? Naughty? Yes. All of the above. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat." She stood. "I could call a cab, if you're rather not drive me home."

  A part of him wanted her to stay. A part of him needed time to process the many revelations she'd shared. He could honestly say he'd never met anyone like her. But what was that a good thing? Or bad?

  "Let's take the Prius. I don't trust the Mustang's battery."

  Chapter Six

  Judy parked in her usual spot out of habit. She hadn't been to Heritage House in over a week, and if the lump of solidified oatmeal in her stomach was any indicator, she didn't want to be here today. Talk about highs and lows, she thought, staring at the three-story structure. Only its jaunty color scheme--rust, green and off-white--kept it from looking like a prison.

  Her fist closed around her phone. Wiley's text had arrived at dawn. Six-thirty-four, to be exact. "Good luck this morning. Free 4 lunch? Midtown 12:30?"

  Two cups of coffee and eight mind changes later, she replied: "Ok."

  The Midtown Cafe, despite the rather pedestrian name, was one of the few legitimately swanky spots in town. The owner/chef trained in San Francisco. The food, reputedly, was to die for. Judy didn't know because she'd spent her lunch hours juggling the wants and needs of three hundred Herry souls. And, now, God help her, her mother was moving into the very place that knew nearly all of Judy's faults and more than a few of her secrets.

  She clasped her phone to her breast. I have to tell Mom about Buddy. Beat the gossip grapevine to the punch. "Shi...," she started to mutter her usual swear word but stopped. "I mean shoot."