Congruence of Want Ch. 01

Long after the divorce papers had been signed, nearly 14 months since her now ex-husband Bobby moved out for good and about two full years since she gave up any hope of salvaging her 21 year marriage, 39 year old Debra Jessup didn't fully come to grips with the fact that she was single until one cruel, innocuous moment at work.

A hairdresser by trade, Debra spent six days a week, ten hours a day surrounded by women, many of whom friends and long time acquaintances, listening to them talk about their own constant dysfunction. Debra's failed marriage didn't really sink until one afternoon when one of the ladies was talking about something stupid her Husband had did and Debra had to catch herself before the words, "Oh... Bobby use to do that all the time", leapt from her mouth.

The past tense of that word, 'use', kicked the normally talkative and friendly woman in the gut, forcing her to accept the fact that she had no one in her life, for over a year now, to compare with during the constant flow of day to day drama all the other women found to discuss about the men in their lives.

Compounding the gnawing wound to her self confidence that not having a man was causing her, Debra was also beginning to feel the first stages on an 'empty nest syndrome" setting in. Her Daughter, Jamie, was beginning her second year at college and that was tough enough on its own, but with her youngest child, her son David, now 17 and spending much more time running with his friends and chasing his hormones, Debra couldn't remember the last time she spent a meaningful amount of time with either of her children.

About the only thing Debra had to feel good about was that she got to keep her house in the divorce settlement. About three years earlier, she had saved up enough money to refurbish part of her basement and turn it into a salon where she could work independently from home. And business was very good.

With a home that was paid for, her newly found single status and a career that was taking off, Debra should have been flying high, savoring all the things she couldn't while married. It was a perfect opportunity to re-live her teenage years while she was still young enough to enjoy it.

But putting those thoughts into action proved to be difficult. Debra was always a big dreamer but habitually lacked the spark to put those thoughts into action. She had grown up the middle of three sisters and had always been the homebody trying to make good. Never one to 'rock the boat', Debra didn't mind the juicy gossip that constantly floated around the salon, she just hated the thought of ever being the topic of any of it.

In some ways, that was one of the reasons Bobby had began to stray in their marriage. He had wanted to try several things to sort of spice up their two decade long relationship, but Debra was always too fearful and self conscious to try anything too risqué in such a small, conservative and lippy Alabama town.

Now that she was single, while the thought of 're-kindling' her youth was appealing on a certain level, Debra couldn't help getting a little choked up about it considering her Father had died when she was 14 and her Mother dealt with it by becoming a promiscuous drunk. So in many ways, Debra never got to fully experience being a teenager, forced into maturity way sooner than any kid should have to, she met Bobby when she was 16, married him when she was 17 and hoped he would take her away from the family life that was crumbling around her.

In a twisted way, now without a Husband herself, the last thing Debra wanted to do was become what her Mother had after her Father died. And that prevented Debra from enjoying many of the things that were now open to her.

Debra had been hanging with her circle of friends since high school. For the past year she had been faced with a strange juxtaposition considering all her friends had gotten married since high school and now all but one of them had been divorced, at least once. For the longest time, Debra took a lot of internal joy watching others' relationships wither while hers, although not perfect, continued to thrive. With the failure of her own marriage and the blow to her self esteem that came with it however, suddenly Debra was less in inclined to take such satisfaction in her abilities as a woman.

Despite the best attempts of her friends to fix her up and play matchmaker, Debra simply didn't or wouldn't allow herself to make a connection with the men she met. The prettiest of the group by far, Debra was constantly being approached by guys when she was out, especially when they discovered she was now single. Rail thin and still a size 4, the last time Debra had been to the doctor she had weighed two pounds less than she did when she was 18. Her figure, dark golden tan combined with her chatty personality and 80's styled big brown hair made her quite a magnet for any man in the room. And once anyone engaged in conversation with Debra, they easily became transfixed by her toothy smile and gentile Southern manner.

Still there was something distant about her. While she freely chatted up most anyone in a social setting, showing an amazing amount of breadth to her personality, very few people had ever been able to wade into the depths of her psyche, and going through her divorce only hastened that cold concealment of feeling.

So as she sat at one of the booths at Mickey's Bar and Grill with three of her friends, enjoying a few beers on a lazy Wednesday night, Debra rolled her eyes slightly as she scanned the room, seeing most of the usual crowd scattered around the smoky room. Taking a drag from her cigarette however, Debra felt her blood go cold when the face of a stranger at the bar locked eyes with her.

"What's wrong Debra?" her friend Deloris asked, noticing the glazed expression on Debra's suddenly mute face.

"N... Nothing," she mouthed before ripping her gaze away from the slightly older man at the bar.

* * * * *

Grant Barrett was preparing to magically make his fourth shot of scotch of the evening disappear. Even though he had asked himself after downing each one what the Hell he was doing sitting at a bar in a small and rustic Alabama town, surrounded by nothing but cigarette smoke and women half his age, by the time the hearty sauce soothed his palate, he realized he had answered his own question.

"None of these country girls will give you the time of day... you dumb sonofabtich,' Grant half drunkenly laughed to himself. "No harm in looking though. "

With two divorces, two children he was still paying child support for and a third, his oldest daughter who was now at college, Grant remembered quickly what the scotch was for.

At 52, If it hadn't been for the financial crunch he was under and a desire to start anew after a difficult and lingering midlife crisis, Grant would have never accepted the 'promotion' to leave his home in Knoxville to run his company's new distribution center outside Montgomery.

After being a slave to his job for the first six months there, with no social life to speak of, Grant finally decided to give a night out on the town a halfhearted try.

With the way too loud strains of the country music blaring from the jukebox and a hundred burning Marlboros sautéing his eyes, Grant scanned the room between drinks, trying to find a familiar or interested face. Almost to the point of giving up and leaving before he was a little too drunk to drive home, he was equally as stunned and silent when he locked gazes with the pretty brunette that was sitting on the other side of the dance floor, in a booth, with several of her friends.

* * * * *

At a loss over what to do, in an act almost as cliché as the bar room surroundings he was in, Grant sent a round of drinks to the table where the smiling woman was sitting. When Debra and her three friends waved back their appreciation, Grant took a deep breath and lugged himself off the barstool, hoping against hope that he wouldn't embarrass himself too badly when he went over to talk to the girls.

Apprehensive, as any man would be approaching a table full of chattering women all by himself, in the end Grant was surprised by how well things had turned out. Sharing a drink with the four women, Grant then invited Debra out on the dance floor where they stayed for three songs.

Thirty minutes after Debra and Grant met, they said their polite goodbyes and exchanged phone numbers with promises to get back in touch.

"So what do you think?" Betty immediately asked Debra when they returned to the car as the other two women coyly measured Debra's giddy mood.

"I don't know Betty... he seems nice enough," she started to reply before Deloris interrupted.

"I could tell from his accent... he ain't from 'round here... I don't know if I'd trust him or not," the drunkest of the four, and also the one who was inevitably jealous when one of her friends had better luck than she did, warned.

"Maybe Deloris is right," Betty agreed. "All the losers around here are easy to get dirt on... you know what you're dealing with... this guy... I don't know?"

"Dealing with... ," Debra laughed as Betty steered the car out of Mickey's parking lot. "It ain't like he proposed or anything... Hell... he probably wont even call... I'm not going to lose any sleep!"

But Debra did that night, mostly trying to figure out why in a room full of outwardly flirting men she had somehow been attracted to the graying stranger and wondering just what it was inside of her that he had stirred.

"You're just horny," she told herself, rationalizing her all too long deprived arousal, even though she felt something much deeper at work.

* * * * *

After barely three hours of sleep that night, Debra certainly wasn't at her best the next morning even though she had a full docket of customers to tend to. Giving a perm to one of her elderly patrons a little before Noon, Debra nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang.

"Hello... This is Debra," she answered with feigned exuberance.

"Hey... ah... this is Grant... from the bar last night... how are you?"

"F... Fine," Debra stammered, suddenly feeling an adrenaline rush surge through her tired bones.

"I hope this isn't a bad time... you said last night that you cut hair... I was wondering if I could maybe... make an appointment... I haven't had a good haircut since I moved to Montgomery... think you could fit me in sometime?" Grant asked with a certain schoolboy asking a girl on a date tone.

"Ahh... Ahhh... Yeah," Debra stalled for time, her mind racing nervously as she reached for her daily appointment book.

"Yeah... Grant," Debra replied, saying a private prayer of flustered thanks that she remembered his name. "I've got an empty spot later on this evening... around 6:30... How's that?"

"That would be perfect... I usually get out of the office around 5:45," Grant agreed.

"Great," Debra beamed. "Let me give you directions to my place. "

Her hangover suddenly gone, Debra found herself gliding on velvet wings for the rest of the afternoon until Grant walked through the doors a few minutes before his scheduled appointment.

"Hi," Debra welcomed the handsome older man, her knees trembling ever so slightly as he eased into the unfamiliar surroundings of her salon.

"I was... kind of expecting a room full of ladies with their heads under hairdryers staring at me," Grant laughed, realizing the two were all alone.

"Sometimes I have a few ladies in here this late... mainly on Fridays... but you're my last one today," Debra smiled as she swept up the hair on the floor from the previous customer. "Just jump up there in the chair and I'll be right over. "

"Thanks," Grant nodded before raising himself up into the seat.

"So you have your house and your salon all in one... this is a real nice setup," he commented, allowing his gaze to wander around the quaint surroundings and to steal a quick peek or two at Debra behind him, in the series of mirrors adoring the wall.

A tingling chill sizzled down Grant's spine when Debra swung the smock around his seated body and he grinned the instant he first inhaled the woman's flowery perfume as she began to comb and spritz his hair.

For the next ten minutes or so the two made small talk and shared tidbits about their background. Grant admitted to his two divorces and Debra told him about her one. Each discovered the other had a Daughter away at college, and the financial pain that went with it as well as the fact that each had lost their Father when they were in teenagers.

Even when there was a normal gap of silence in the conversation, Grant didn't feel the overriding angst and awkwardness he normally felt when talking in depth with a woman for the first time. Despite knowing Debra for less than a day, somehow he felt she had been part of his entire life.

The fact that Grant could feel each of Debra's small but firm titties grazing against his back each time she leaned forward to snip at his hair wasn't lost on him either and he was forced to say a private prayer of thanks that the smock Debra had draped over him was concealing the beginnings of a guilty erection.

"You're such a dirty old man," Grant scolded himself with real conviction even though he continued to study Debra's reflection in the mirror, nodding politely to everything she had to say.

Stuck in the chair, not wanting to shift too much as Debra continued to snip at his hair, Grant felt goosebumps prickle his flesh as the front of the younger woman's sweater occasionally grazed against the back of his neck.

"All done... how does it look?" Debra asked while spinning the elevated chair around so Grant could get a good look at the trim.

"Fine... it looks fine," he smiled, unable to tear his gaze away from Debra's expressive brown eyes.

Like a child saddened to get off a ride at the carnival, Grant slowly dismounted from the seat and turned to face Debra before reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"Men's haircuts... just $12," Debra replied.

"Here's $20," Grant offered.

"Are you sure... I have change," Debra started to say before Grant's gentle nod told her it was OK to accept the tip.

"Can I call you later maybe?" Grant stumbled to say.

"Ahh... sure... I've got to get a little dinner on for my Son... he should be home from baseball practice pretty soon... but... ahh... yeah... you have my number," Debra, equally as nervous and anxious, replied.

* * * * *

Spread eagle and naked on his sheets, resting lazily in the complete darkness of his bedroom at a few minutes after 10 that night, Grant allowed his mind to drift back to when he and Debra had first met a day earlier and the youthful energy in her face and untapped aura that somehow surrounded her.

He also couldn't deny just how good it felt sitting there with Debra earlier that evening in her salon, with her tender fingers dancing through his thinning hair at the same time he sat there enjoying the feel of her soft bosom tapping against his back. "Why don't you grow some balls and reach over and call her?" Grant lashed himself, knowing somehow the next step he took with Debra might open up his heart to the same pain he had just gotten over with his second divorce.

"She's different... somehow... someway... she's different," another voice argued.

Before he could reach over to the nightstand and dial Debra's number however, the phone rang.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi Daddy," his Daughter's voice filled his ear.

"Oh... Melody... I wasn't expecting you to call so late... is everything OK?" he asked, the unsettledness in his voice clearly noticeable.

"Oh... yeah... everything's fine... its just Thursday night and I didn't know what I'd get into this weekend... I haven't heard from you in a few weeks... just wanted to call and see how you were... I didn't wake you up did I?" She inquired.

"I'm... fine... went to bed early... just been busy with work... and with... ," Grant started to mention Debra but decided his burgeoning relationship with her still wasn't far enough along to even think about getting his Daughter's antenna up.

Ever intuitive, Melody saw through her Father's near slip.

"So what's her name?" she asked with a definitive laugh.

"Who?" Grant weakly tried to deny Melody's feminine instinct.

"Come on Daddy... don't feel like you have to keep any secrets from me... you're a free man now... all I want to see you is happy... whatever happened between you and Mom is water under the bridge... its time you started thinking about yourself for a change!"

His Daughter's words resonated vividly in Grant's mind. Having spent most of his entire adult life trying to be a good breadwinner, Husband and most importantly, Father, Grant had felt a gaping void in his life since Melody had graduated high school and went away to college. While proud of the job he did to raise her, clearly evident by how caring and understanding she was becoming as an adult, Grant felt an overwhelming emptiness at times not having her around to nurture and adore.

The two talked for 10 minutes or so, on topics ranging from Melody's school work, her social life and what kind of bitch her Mother was continuing to be. They eventually said "I love you" and wished each other a good night before hanging up.

Which left Grant exactly where he was before Melody called, laying in the dark, on the bed naked wondering why he was acting like a acne-faced 15 year old that was too afraid to call the new girl at school.

Something had subtly changed in the past few minutes however. Whether it was everything that was happening with Debra to make him feel somewhat desirable again, the unexpected and pleasant call from Melody or just that he was finally coming out of the funk that came with the dissolution of his marriage as well as the shift and upheaval in his career, but Grant suddenly felt as virile and vital as he had in a long time. Looking down the length of the bed, that feeling was reinforced by the shadowy wand jutting from his crotch that swayed merrily through the darkness.

Wrapping his right hand around the swelling warmth, Grant let out a low chuckle, enjoying the sensation of his heated blood rushing to his groin. Losing himself in myriad of blurred and lascivious thoughts, some he was proud of and some not so much, Grant increased the pressure and pace of his manipulations until his fleshy girth sizzled and pulsed in the palm of his jerking hand.

Bracing his heels roughly into the mattress, Grant bucked and thrust his hips up from the bed as if he were fucking a series of invisible entities above.

"GRRHHH... GGRRHHAAAAHHHHHH... GGRRAAHHHHHHH" he savagely blurted out for several seconds, filling his empty home with the primal sounds of his selfish endeavor.

His entire six foot two inch body writhing from an explosive and much needed release, Grant twisted and squirmed on the sheets as an indiscriminate geyser of his sticky cum spayed out in every direction.

For an instant, Grant assumed the all too loud ringing in his ears was just a byproduct of such a potent orgasm but when the phone rang for a second time, he slumped into a heap briefly before mustering the wherewithall to reach over and answer it.

"Hi... Hi... Grant... it's Debra... I hope its not too late," the familiar voice filled Grant's fuzzy head.

"... No... No," he stuttered between tortured breaths, trying his best to conceal the telltale signs of what he had been doing.

"I had just laid done... maybe to read a little before I went to sleep," Grant fibbed convincingly.

"Sorry... I was just bored I guess and had your number... so I just decided to you know... give you a call... God... I can't even remember the last time I called a guy like this... 16 maybe?" Debra babbled nervously, her head swimming just as Grant's was, for many of the same reasons.