by Yvonne Tyler
When I went back to my parents' house for the week of Thanksgiving break, I happened to bump into Mr. Hanson at the grocery store while I was picking up some things for my mom. Jim was with him, and he was so excited to see me that he nearly bowled me over right there in the cereal aisle. It wasn't until I saw his little face light up that I realized just how much I had missed him while I was away. Mr. Hanson and I chatted for a few minutes about how I was doing in college and how Jim was doing in preschool. He asked me to drop by the house later in the week so that we could all get properly caught up, but my parents and I were heading out of town to my grandmother's house. I promised that I would come and see them on my Christmas break. Jim tearfully asked me how long that would be and told me that it was such a long time. It broke my heart to not be able to go and play with him like I wanted to. Mr. Hanson assured Jim that the time would pass quickly, and to my surprise he pulled me in for a hug after Jim had his turn.
It was the first time Mr. Hanson had ever hugged me before, and even in the moment I knew that it was something that I wouldn't soon forget. I was so surprised that I made a little gasping sound when he pulled me close and my body involuntarily tensed, then relaxed. I breathed in his delightful scent, like sun-dried sheets and summer. His chest muscles were hard beneath his neatly-ironed button-down shirt when they pressed against me. I could have stayed just like that forever, wrapped up in his arms while the beeps of the checkout lines droned on in the background without a care in the world.
He pulled away first, pulling my head out of the clouds when his body broke contact with mine. He smiled at me, merriment reflected in his bright blue eyes. I was smiling so broadly that I was sure my face would crack, like some bubbly pre-teen girl who has just met the idol that she has plastered up all over her bedroom walls.
And you're being just as silly, I told myself. It was only a hug.
And that part was true - it was only a hug. But I swear that when out bodies were pressed together it was almost as though there were electric sparks between us. When I thought about it afterward, it made the hairs on my arms stand up. Then I felt like a complete fool, cursing myself for indulging in this twisted little version of hero-worship that I had going on.
* * * * *
It was just an innocent hug, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time that night while I lay awake in my bed staring up at the familiar ceiling of my childhood. Nothing to get this worked up about.
But honestly, it was sort of like I was a girl who had met her idol, and to her surprise he actually paid her some attention.
I had felt an immediate attraction to Mr. Hanson the first time I met him, back when I was only fifteen with very few ideas of what actually went on between a man and a woman. Even though my mind might not have known, my body certainly did. My nerve endings lit up like fireworks in a very particular part of my anatomy when he opened his front door and flashed me his dazzling smile for the first time. For a moment, I lost all concept of the English language and stood stupidly on his welcome mat, my mouth opening and closing silently like I was a fish. The first ten seconds that I had known him, and I already felt like an idiot. I was thankful that my dark skin would at least partially hide the fact that I was blushing.
"Hi. You must be Mia." He offered me his hand to shake, but I still couldn't take my eyes off his face. He was one of the most gorgeous men that I had ever seen. He had dark brown hair that was just a little bit shaggy, but it made him look more devil-may-care than unkempt. His light blue eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun that was coming over my shoulder. And that smile. Oh my god, that smile. He didn't belong in this tiny town. He belonged on the cover of GQ.
Shake his hand, dummy, I told myself and tried to shake myself out of my awe for this man who was my new employer.
"Yes, sir." He took his hand into mine, and I had to consciously tell myself to keep breathing.
"Come on in, Mia. I'd like to introduce you to my wife and son." He stood aside and I walked past him into the spacious house. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson were clearly doing very well for themselves. Of course, being in such a small town I knew that he was a lawyer. He wasn't born here, an outsider, and it had created quite the scandal when he blew into town fresh out of law school and almost immediately started sleeping with his secretary, now wife.
That was the rumor, anyway. I knew as well as anyone that those rumors weren't always true.
"Honey," he called out, "Mia is here!"
Her wedge sandal heels clacked on the hardwood floor as she walked towards me.
"Hi, Mia." She smiled at me warmly. "It's so nice to meet you." She shook my hand as well. "Come meet Jim."
Jim, at the time, was not quite a year old. He was sitting on the rug in the den, surrounded by a ring of toys. He was an adorable baby, with fine wispy hair so blonde that it was almost white and light blue eyes just like his dad's. I walked over to the ring of toys and knelt beside it.
"Hi, Jim." I smiled at him. To my delight, he immediately crawled over to me and reached out for my face. I'm probably the first black person he's ever seen up close, I thought. He smiled back at me, then went back to his toys.
That night was the first of many nights that I babysat for the Hansons. I loved it, and they always paid me well. Jim was a lot of fun, and was even more fun when he got a bit older and started walking and talking. Spending so much time with them, I almost felt like I was part of the family.
Getting paid for playing with Jim wasn't the best part of the job, though. The best part of the job was seeing Mr. Hanson at least once every week. Over the years, I had told myself time and time again that it was just some silly schoolgirl fantasy. He was married, with a child. He was twenty years older than me. He was wealthy. He was white.
In other words, he was completely and totally off-limits.
Still, it was a fantasy that I found myself indulging in often.
The first time I ever touched myself, it was his face that I saw, his hands that I was imagining caressing my body as I explored myself.
To be honest, it was his face that I saw when I had touched myself every time after that, too.
I figured it was mostly harmless. No one knew, about my naughty little fantasy, and that's what it would always be - just a fantasy.
I shook myself from my reminiscing and was once again back in my car, speeding my way home for Christmas break.
After I got to my parent's house and we said our hellos, complete with many hugs, I sneaked off to my bedroom to call Mr. Hanson. I hadn't talked to him since I bumped into him at the grocery store, and I wanted to be sure that he wanted me to come by. I certainly didn't want to impose.
My heart started to race when he answered the phone. Stop it, I told myself. You've talked to him a thousand times before.
We talked for a couple of minutes and he said that he would love it if I came by for lunch at his house tomorrow. I felt a little guilty accepting, figuring that my mother would probably want me to have my first lunch back at home with them. It's just one meal, and I'll be home for a month, I reminded myself. I was too excited to see Mr. Hanson and Jim that there was no way that I wouldn't accept.
That night I lay awake in my bed, tossing and turning. My mind automatically went to my favorite fantasy - being with Mr. Hanson. I imagined what his lips would feel like against mine, how his tongue would taste in my mouth, what his warm hands would feel like against my skin. In my fantasy, he was gentle and tender since he knew that it was my first time. I ran my hand down to my breast, pretending that it was his hand instead of mine that was lightly pinching my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. In my fantasy, he brought his mouth down to my supple tit, sucking my tight peak into the warm wetness of his mouth.
“Matthew," I whispered his name into the quietness of my bedroom. The only sound besides my breathing was the clock on my nightstand, ticking away like a heartbeat.
I slid my hand down between my legs, finding myself already thoroughly wet. I rubbed small tight circle
s around my clit, imagining that it was him. I wondered what it would feel like for it to be his tongue on my clit instead of my finger. I bucked and writhed beneath my hand, the sweet sensations of my self-pleasure washing over my body. My pussy was aching to be filled. I imagined him sliding his finger into my wetness, and my finger in reality took the place of his finger in fantasy. I caressed my inner walls, grinding my hips to press my clit against the palm of my hand. I fingered myself faster as I thought of him pressing his rock-hard cock into my pussy, taking my virginity, making me his.
"Fuck!" I cried out as I came, before shoving my pillow into my mouth to quiet my whines as the waves of my orgasm crashed over my body, leaving me breathless and shuddering.
It was a fantasy that I had many nights before, and it never failed to work. Now that my body was sated, I turned over on my side and almost immediately fell into a satisfied sleep.
* * * * *
The next morning crawled by. I had told mom the night before that I would be having lunch with the Hansons. She seemed a little disappointed, but said that she had some errands to run anyway. I showered and shaved, spending way too much time putting on makeup so that it would look natural, like I just rolled out of bed every morning looking that good with no assistance whatsoever. I also spent far too much time trying to figure out what to wear. I didn't want to look super casual, like I didn't care, or too dressed up, like I cared too much. I settled on one of my favorite pairs of jeans and a light pink sweater that I knew looked nice against my skin color. I also knew that it accentuated the curves of my breasts and the slenderness of my waist. After all, I was seeing Mr. Hanson again for the first time in what felt like ages. It wouldn't hurt to show off my body, just a tiny bit.
The rest of the morning was filled with talking with mom and helping her tidy up a bit around the house. I was too anxious to sit still for too long. I figured I might as well make myself useful and help the time pass quicker in the process.
Finally, it was time for me to get in my car and make the familiar ten-minute drive over to the Hansons' home.
I flipped on the radio to try and calm myself down, but there was nothing on but country songs. No, thank you. I switched the radio back off and drove the rest of the way in silence.
I walked up the porch steps that I had walked up at least a thousand times before and rang the doorbell. Don't act too excited to be here, I told myself.
When Mr. Hanson opened the door, I couldn't help beaming. He looked good enough to eat, wearing a blue sweater that matched his eyes and a pair of khaki pants. How nice it would be if he was the dessert...
"Hey, Mia! Come on in." He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside, and the casual touch of his hand set off little sparks inside of me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a hug that almost took my breath away. I hoped that he wouldn't notice how hard my heart was hammering away inside my chest.
"It's good to see you, Mr. Hanson."
"No more 'Mr. Hanson,'" he said. "You're an adult, and you're not my babysitter anymore. You should call me Matthew."
“Well, it's nice to see you...Matthew." I smiled. It was the first time I had said his first name out loud in anyplace other than my fantasies and the confines of my silent bedroom, and it felt just a little naughty. My mind started to drift towards the fantasy I had last night and how I had screamed his name in it.
"Lunch isn't quite ready," he said, snapping me back into reality. "I hope you aren't starving. We'll have time to catch up a bit in the meantime."
I was starving, but what I was starving for was him, not lunch.
"Sounds good," I said brightly. I followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. Jim's toys were lined up neatly along the walls in the living room, just like they always were when he wasn't playing with him.
"How's Jim doing?" I asked.
"He's fine. He's at his mother's this week." He leaned against the island in the kitchen and shoved a hand through his hair awkwardly.
"At his mother's?" I repeated stupidly.
"Yeah. She has a little apartment a couple of minutes away." My eyes flashed down to his left hand, which was missing his wedding band.
"If you don't want to talk about it, I completely understand. But...what happened?" He looked so dejected in that moment, I would have done anything to make him feel better.
He sighed.
"Lucy and I split up. The divorce isn't final yet, but it's well underway."
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"We were pretty good at hiding how miserable both of us really were," he explained. "We'd been unhappy for quite some time, even before Jim was born. I think a big part of it was that we knew that people thought we were crazy for being together, and we just wanted to prove them wrong. You know?"
I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. Feeling like you had something to prove to the people in this two-horse town.
"We were trying to stay together for Jim and act like the happy couple, but eventually we both decided that we weren't doing Jim any favors by making both of his parents miserable. We might have been able to hide our unhappiness from the world, but we weren't able to hide it from him. He's a very smart kid."
"He is." I agreed. It was true - Jim was much smarter than you would think a four-year-old would be. "How is he holding up with the...change?" I asked. I couldn't quite bring myself to say the word 'divorce.'
"He took it pretty hard at first, when we explained that we wouldn't be living together anymore," he admitted. "But he's adjusted just fine. We split custody, so he spends pretty much equal time with both of us."
I tried to think of something to say. What was a person supposed to say at a time like this? "I'm glad he's handling everything well," I said moderately, "but I'm sorry about the situation."
"It is what it is." He shrugged. "To be honest, Lucy and I were mismatched from the start. There were signs there from the very beginning that we weren't right for each other. But we ignored them."
"Like what?" I asked, then immediately regretted it. I had no business to ask that question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that..."
"No, it's okay." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "The biggest thing is that I came from a big family, and I've always wanted one of my own. She's never wanted kids. She adores Jim, of course, but it took a lot of coaxing from me for her to even agree to have one child." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "At first I thought that maybe after Jim was born she would love being a mother and would want to have more kids. That wasn't the case. She swears that Jim is her first and last."
I didn't know what to say, so I just laid my hand on his forearm. I wanted him to know that I was there if he just wanted to vent.
"There were other ways we were mismatched, too." He continued, looking up at the kitchen ceiling. "Like sexually..."
I was stunned, and could feel my cheeks growing warm.
“I probably should have kept that one to myself," he said with a wan smile. "But it's true. There were so many nights when I wished that I had married someone who actually enjoys being with me."
"I can't imagine any woman not enjoying being with you." The words slipped out before I could stop them. I clamped my jaw shut, determined that I wouldn't say anything else that could get me into trouble.
"Really?" His brilliant blue eyes brightened. He seemed cheered by that, as though he honestly thought that he was somehow unappealing.
Seeing his reaction made me unclamp my jaw. My words seemed to make him feel better, and that was what I really wanted right now.
"Really. I bet there's a lot of women who would jump at the opportunity to be with you."
"Like who?"
"I know of at least one." I dodged the question.
"You can't tease me like that." He stood up to his full height and stepped towards me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. It made me weak in the knees. "Tell me who."
"Like m
e." I admitted.
"Is that so?" He had a bemused little smirk on his face. I wondered if maybe I should have kept that little tidbit to myself. I was embarrassed, but if this turned out wrong at least I would never have to see him again, as much as the thought pained me.
"Yes, it is."
"How long have you thought about me that way?" He took another tiny step closer. My breasts were just barely grazing his chest, but it felt like electricity was arcing from his body to mine.
"Pretty much always." The closeness of his body made it hard to think straight. I was no longer worried about whether what I said was right or wrong. I just wanted to keep him close to me.
