Dead Write Ch. 06

* This is a repost of an old romance story with a fresh edit. *

Chapter 6

Saturday dawned wonderfully dreary. The rain pelting the windows made a delightful sound. It signaled a rainout for the Deacon's painters. Chris was away all afternoon, on a play-date with cousins. Which meant she’d have lingering time alone with Sam, while he made the promised plumbing repairs. Her flesh heated just thinking about his plumbing prowess.

Sherry assessed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A satisfied smile grew. Her body was exceptional, and she’d be a desirable acquisition for Sam's long-term portfolio. Shapely legs flexed and twisted side to side, as she examined her braless peak dividends, available only to a certain preferred shareholder.

"I predict there will be a bare market today. Clothing will drop suddenly." With an impish smile, she said, "What happened to the prim Sunday school teacher that used to live here?"

She’d never desired a man’s company so much. ‘And I'll do anything to keep it... Oh God, forgive my covetousness.’ Time with Sam was like getting reacquainted with an old friend and finding out you still click, still complete each other's sentences. ‘And he's funny.’ Her smile began to hurt.

Those are the ingredients for love, and she'd told him so. The "L" word had jumped from her lips before she could rein it in-- the desire to say it overpowering. Declaring, "I love you", this early in their relationship was risky, possibly fatal. Sam hadn't echoed the sentiment. She hoped his hesitancy reaffirmed her belief that if he ever said, “I love you,” it would be the truth, and not just an impulsive outburst.

'I'm the impulsive one.'

Only a few days ago, she wanted to slow things down, afraid he wouldn't want to buy the cow if he got the milk for free. Now she wanted to bath him in it, prove her milk capable of quenching any thirst. There was no need for him to find another dairy.

"I’ve got all the milk he can handle." She boasted to the temptress in the mirror.

Thoughts drifted back to the night before. They’d made love under the full moon, then rode back to the barn on one horse. She sat backwards in the saddle to face him. His hands roamed over her as they kissed, and planned today's visit.

Now Sam was coming over, and she was ready, willing, and adorable.

'What more could a man want?' She asked herself, 'Brains? A Master's degree in education should cover it, any questions? I'm the total package... now to make Sam accept delivery.'

She moved into the living room, and paced in front of the window, watching for his truck. "I feel like I'm in an Old Spice commercial."

The wait made her nervous. After twenty minutes, her bolstered confidence waned. Inherent self-doubt produced fear of rejection. 'Bob loved me, and he left.' Sherry made comparisons to stem the flow of negative thoughts. ‘Bob isn't half the man Sam is. He’s evil. Sam is gentle and kind.’

A young, inexperienced Sherry had mistaken Bob's brusque and demeaning treatment as manly. His arrogance seemed like confidence to her naive soul. She’d thought, 'Here's a man I can depend on to take care of our family'.

In reality, his bravado proved to be a fragile shell. Underneath, there was a jealous, petty, self-centered monster that found joy in being a bully. She had no opinion worth hearing. Her job was to act the trophy wife and make him look important. When she grew a backbone, he tried to break it. The day he left had been one of her happiest.

‘Bob is weak. Sam is strong.’

Sam seemed to be the ideal husband, and she’d envied Jan. Watching them together was like watching newlyweds -- pecks on cheeks, hand holding. Sherry had even caught them playing footsie during a church cantata.

She’d watched Sam closely, and tried to find a crack in his fidelity. 'No man is that loyal,' she’d thought.

However, other than a fleeting glance, Sam never paid attention to other women. Unlike Bob, whom she'd have to elbow to stop him from ogling a firm backside in a short skirt, showing no respect for his wife’s sensibilities. She had wondered, 'Is it my fault,' and befriended Jan hoping to learn the secret of their happy marriage. Sadly, she discovered there was no magic secret.

Sherry blankly stared out the window, and descended into the dark hole of insecurity that living with Bob had dug. 'Seven years alone is a long time. Can I keep Sam interested? Will he ever love me the way he loved Jan? The way I love him?'

To lessen the anxiety, Sherry walked to her desk, retrieved the "Sam" notebook, and opened it to the dog-eared page entitled "Intimacy". Jan had written the most personal details of their physical couplings and opened Sherry's eyes to a joining of bodies and souls previously unknown. After the first read, a voyeuristic shame had filled her, like she'd watched them through the bedroom window. The adult videos Bob had made her watch were anonymous acts of lust that disgusted her. This journal, although specific in description, did not disgust. It excited. She knew these people. This was real love in action. She’d wondered why Jan wrote in such graphic detail.

After Sherry’s initial embarrassment cooled, the pages became worn from turning. She’d decided this is how married sex should be, unfettered by shame and modesty. The Bible says the marriage bed is undefiled. So, why not explore the scope of sexuality with your mate? Her comfort with these erotic vignettes increased, until she couldn't resist her pent-up arousal. She pictured herself with Sam, felt his caress through her own fingers and satisfied the ache of want created by Jan's narrative. Wasn't that what Jan expected? Wasn't that why she sent this diary, to create a desire for Sam?

One short commentary bothered Sherry.

Jan wrote:

Sam is the best lover. However, I have this dark need for something his kindness seems unable to satisfy. Maybe because he is so gentle, I found myself wanting rougher treatment. I wanted him to be demanding, forceful, craving my body to the point of forcing himself on me. Of course, I would willingly let him have his way with me, and I don't fantasize about rape. But I think I wanted to feel that his attraction to me was overpowering, in a primal, instinctive fashion. We experimented with role-playing, complete with rules of conduct, and an escape word that ended the act if I became uncomfortable. Sam just could not find it within himself to be forceful and aroused at the same time. I say this to his credit and my shame.

Sherry knew what violence felt like. That was Bob's nature. She didn’t think it was sexy, only demeaning. Her physical satisfaction had been an unnecessary byproduct.

The doorbell rang, and Sherry jumped. Time had stopped. She'd been lost in the tactile delight of sexual thoughts. Heart pounding, she quickly hid the notebook under a stack of magazines, rushed to the door, and swung it wide as her smile.

"Hi, Sam, you're late."

His smile broadened, "Sherry, you look lovely… as usual."

The deep brown eyes wandered down her body. She tingled.

"Do you have pencils in your shirt or are you just happy to see me?" he asked, with eyes fixed on her breasts.

Her nipples hardened some more. The blush, she so wanted to control, escaped up her neck and face. His nearness brought Jan's erotica closer to reality. Close enough to touch.

"Of course I'm happy to see you, Sam," she said, moving aside to let him enter. "It's also a little chilly. Don't let your head swell... or anything else."

Sam put his plumbing paraphernalia on the floor, and said, "Since you're a new customer I require partial payment up front before starting any work." Pulling Sherry into his arms, he wrapped her in a tight embrace. His mouth covered hers.

Her legs weakened as his muscled body pressed against her. His strength supported her weight. Suddenly, an old, trapped feeling made her push away. With only slight resistance, she broke free.

"Are you okay, Sherry?" Sam held her gingerly at arm’s length. "You look a little peaked."

She smiled up. "I'm fine, Sam. You just make me swoon."

"Swoon? Yeah right, I bet you say that to all the plumbers." Rubbing her shoulders, he asked, "Are you recovered enough to help me? You know it will cost more if I have to do this alone." Picking up his tools, he headed to the basement. "By the way, I wore my loose shorts so I can flash my anal cleft when I bend over."

She followed, laughing, "Ooo, with job perks like that, I may have more work for you. Do you know anything about showerheads?"

He turned and winked, "I can't give away all my trade secrets."

Once the house water supply was shut off, Sherry ran around and opened faucets to drain the piping, glad for some time to cool off. When she returned to the bathroom, Sam was busy setting out his tools and parts. "Everything open upstairs?"

"Yes, boss." She saluted. "Anything else I can do?"

"My, my, aren't you the eager beaver apprentice."

She couldn't resist saying, "C'mon, Sam, focus on the job. Leave my eager beaver out of this."

He bent down and put a pan under the pipe connected to the toilet tank. "Okay, now first..." His muscled back rippled beneath the tee shirt as he worked. "...I'll replace the old galvanized supply nipple with a new brass one."

"Hey, I don't see any ass crack." She complained.

Shaking his head, he said, "I only told you that to get you to help."

"I may have to call the Better Business Bureau and file a protest,” she warned. “File a false advertising claim or something."

There was a gurgling sound as Sam worked. "What can I do to make you reconsider?"

"You'll have to make it up to me. Show me something better."

Rising to his feet, he moved toward her. Unlike the last time together in this confined space, Sherry stood her ground.

"Okay, I'll show you my ballcock." He lifted to eye level a brass tank valve with a large orange float ball.

"Impressive! My what a big ball it has." She inspected the device. "Where's the cock part?"

Sam moved the float lever up and down, and said, "Well... the cock part is really the motion it makes to shut off the water flow, like cocking a gun. There is no physical cock."

She frowned, "That's very disappointing. I'm sure that's a fine specimen, as ballcocks go. And it may be enough to impress your other customers, but I need something more substantial than just a motion. You promised me a view of anal cleft. Replacing it with some invisible cock movement will not suffice."

He smiled wickedly and said, "You're funny,” and then turned back to install the unsatisfying ballcock.

"I am doubly disappointed now, Mister Plumber. First no cleft, then no cock, you can't leave customers unsatisfied and expect repeat business."

Sam finished and walked out, saying, "Let me turn on the water. Then we will see who's left unsatisfied."

Sherry’s heart began to pound. She'd teased him into a corner, and found she was standing in it with eager beaver anticipation.

From the water meter, he yelled, "Sherry, go upstairs and turn off the faucets when the water starts coming out, please."

Racing upstairs, she followed the sound of splashing water. After the faucets were all turned off, she sat on the raggedy couch and waited impatiently.

Sam walked across the kitchen.

She heard the water running. 'Must be washing his hands.' Her eyes followed him into the room. 'I can't believe he's 45.' His shorts revealed powerful muscles that flexed around his knees. Her eyes wandered to his groin, there seemed to be something happening there. The gaze continued up over his firm chest, and broad shoulders. Unconsciously, her lips parted and her tongue made them moist and shiny.

His mouth was grinning.

Their eyes met, unashamed.

Sam sat next to her, two inches from leg-to-leg contact. He turned sideways, put his elbow on the back of the couch, rested his head on his palm, and said, "You're in a funny mood today." He reached out to Sherry's hair, and gently smoothed loose strands behind her ear.

There must have been a problem, because he repeated the motion, sweeping her hair and ear, which was fine with her. It felt loving and tender. The caress seemed to touch a nerve connected to Sherry's breasts. The nipples swelled noticeably. Sam seemed more interested in her face.

'Isn't he sweet.'

Sam said, "I think we should talk about last night."

"You do?" Sherry’s body stiffened. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, not wanting to bring up the I-love-you thing if he didn't.

He stopped touching her. That was a bad sign. However, he still looked into her eyes. That was good sign.

"First I want to thank you for your... compassion. I still get these... spontaneous moments of grief. Certain things trigger them, and I've decided to just let the emotion out instead of bottling it all up." He laughed, and warned her, "If you keep giving me therapeutic sex every time I feel sad I may never want to be happy."

She nervously laughed with him.

Sam continued, "Sherry..."

Here it comes!

"... You said you love me... and I'll understand if you want to take it back. It was an emotional moment. You were very sweet and kind..."

"I don't want too."

Sam stood and began to pace in front of the couch. "I don't want to upset you but, here's the thing, I'm not ready to say those words to anyone... someday I will."

"I understand. It's still too soon," she said, and watched his furrowed brow.

He knelt and laid his hands over hers. "If you want to date other men, I'm fine with that. But... What I was wondering... God, this feels like high school all over again... would you be willing to date only me for a while?"

Sherry smiled, "Why Sam Colton, are you asking me to go steady?"

He laughed, "I guess so."

"Do I get to wear your letterman sweater?"

Grinning, he said, "If I can find it." Then seriously, added, " You will always be special to me, and I don't want you to feel obligated or... you seem tense today... maybe tense isn't right... more flirtatious than usual... Please, don't think because you said 'I love you' that I expect you to..." looking unsure, he said, "For lack of a better term, put out."

"What!" Sherry reacted angrily, "You think I'm so desperate, so weak, I'd prostitute myself to keep you!" Then she remembered how desperately she did want him, and she was willing to 'put out' to hold on.

"No, no, that's not what I mean.” He sank back on his heels, frustrated. “I don't want you to feel pressured. I'm not going to be demanding. That's all."

Sherry slid off the couch, straddled his knees, and put her arms around his neck. Sam entwined his fingers at the small of her back.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said, and rested her forehead against his, while running her fingers through his hair. "Sam, I don't feel pressured at all. You're not demanding. You're giving. And all I want to do is give as good as I get." She lightly kissed him. "Don't ever feel pressured to say you love me." She smiled, and added, "I'm praying that you will someday. But I don't want to hear it, unless you mean it."

Their lips locked together, warm and alive.

Sam groaned, when Sherry lifted the back of his shirt and slid her hands underneath. His hands returned the favor.

Feeling her shirt rise up, Sherry pushed away, and with a stern expression said, "Sam, I can't be your Sex Therapist any more. I’ve become too personally involved.” She watched him try to hide the disappointment, before adding, “I've decided to just fuck you for the pleasure of it."

She trapped his shocked laughter against her lips. Laughing in return, their teeth clinked together like glasses raised in a toast.

Their impassioned bodies soon eclipsed the foolishness of their lips, as they began to satisfy the hunger of the flesh. Sam nuzzled, while his hands played up her spine, tickling ever higher. Her shirt caught briefly, and then popped up, exposing the pink-capped breasts. Teased against Sam's shirt, her nipples sent explosive messages to her groin. Liquid flowed between her parted legs as her eager-beaver dam burst from a building pressure.

She pushed away. 'Not yet!' she thought.

Reluctantly, Sam stopped.

Sherry pulled down her shirt and slid back up on the couch, a little dizzy. Opening her eyes, Sam sat there with a big grin on his face and something bigger tenting out his shorts.

She managed to whisper, "I'm not paying in full until you finish your work, Mister Plumber."

Sam stood. "The customer's always right." Without pretense, he reached into his shorts to reposition the erection more comfortably.

"I see your equipment is ready." She held out her hand. Sam pulled her upright and up tight. She felt his rigid tool against her belly and pushed away. Taking him by the hand, she led him down the hall. The revelation that she controlled the pace of this seduction was an unfamiliar pleasure. Bob had never let her control anything except yes or no, and even that was marginal. There had never been room for playful teasing. His rush to complete the act overshadowed any imaginative foreplay. She looked back at Sam, who obviously wasn't disappointed by the delay. He winked and looked pleased by her leadership. 'This is why some women are called a cock tease,' thought Sherry, although she had no wish to postpone gratification much longer. The clock was ticking.

Turning into the bathroom, she said, "Can you fix this shower head, Sam?"

Instead of checking the shower, Sam inspected the entire room. The original 1950's green, marbleized tile still covered the walls. The rusted steel basin sat in a worn, pink Formica countertop. One circular fluorescent fixture lit the dim bathroom. "Sherry, you could sell your house faster if you remodeled this bathroom. New tile and a new vanity wouldn't cost much."

Sherry asked, "How much do you think? Who could I get to do it?"

Imitating a gangster voice, Sam said, "I know a guy, see. He owes me one." He pulled her close, looked over his shoulder, and whispered, "I do youse a favor and youse do me a favor, likewise. Just keep teachin' my kid, so's he can take over da' bidness someday."

She gave him a suspicious smirk, and countered, "I don't know, this sounds a little crooked. I may have to call the IRS. I think you'll have to bribe me. Can you slip me a little something on the side... you know, make it worth my while?"

"I have something to slip you... but it won't be little." He kissed both of her cheeks, and sealed the deal.

Sherry pushed away. "What about this shower?" She reached in and turned it on. "See how it sprays all over."

"Oh, this is a tough one." Sam unscrewed the retainer and extracted the spray aerator. He held it up to the light, then banged it against a towel laying on the vanity. After repeating this several times, the towel showed evidence of a flaky residue that looked like showerhead dandruff. Finally satisfied, he reassembled it.

"It may not be perfect, but it should be better." He turned on the water. A tight, cylindrical rain fell into the tub.

She clapped her hands and squeaked with delight. "Wonderful, Sam. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a decent shower?"

"So that explains the smell."

She punched his shoulder. "Very funny." Then, in a matter-of-fact tone, she added, "I can't wait to try it." Stepping back, she pulled up her shirt and revealed her body inch by pleasurable inch, continuing until the shirt lay on the floor.

Sam used the oldest form of wireless communication, and caressed her skin with eyes of longing. Sherry felt her body answer the call. Her thumbs hooked the waistband of her shorts and pushed down. She wiggled saucily as the last garments slid off. Totally nude, she turned toward the mirror and placed both hands on the counter. She stood on tiptoe and leaned over close to the mirror, pretending to check her teeth, intending to show her firm legs and derrière.