Laura's Vineyard

"You probably wonder what Crazy Laura is doing out here tonight, don't you?"

I started to ask, "How did you hear about that?", but she stopped me.

"Yes, I know what they say in town, and sometimes I think they're right. But this was our dream and I just can't give it up. I owe at least that much to Charlie."

"Charlie?"

She pointed to the picture, took a sip of wine, and handed me the bottle from the table.

"This is the last wine Charlie made. I have about a hundred bottles left. You really ought to try it."

The taste was fruity, but not too sweet, and the aroma was that of open fields, sunshine, and wildflowers. I had always wondered why wine drinkers raved so much about bouquet and aftertaste, and now I thought I understood a little of the infatuation. I took another sip and set the glass down. She was leaning back with closed eyes again.

"I was thirty when I met Charlie. That was in '40. I should have been married with a couple of kids long before then, but I hadn't met any man that I thought I loved. I met Charlie, and even though he was eight years younger than I, I knew I had found the man I was meant to be with. The Lend-Lease was going strong, and Charlie had a good job in Benton Harbor. We both worked and saved everything we could so we could buy a house, and had set a date for September in '42, but then Pearl Harbor happened. He enlisted in August. We got married the Saturday before, spent the rest of the weekend in Michigan City, and on Monday, he was gone. He came home for a week in November, and then went to Africa. He ended up in France about a year before the war ended. It was in France that he fell in love with vineyards."

"When he came home, he was full of ideas about raising grapes and making wine. He got back his job in Benton Harbor, and I got a job as a bookkeeper in Bridgeman. We used his GI Bill to get a loan for this place, and we used our savings to buy starter vines and to string the wire. For eight years, we held those jobs in the day, and then came home and worked this place until dark. I loved the work here, because it was with Charlie, and after six years, it started to pay off. We had made enough money to build this chalet, and Charlie's dream started came true. The first year, we only made a few gallons of port for friends and family, and it was good wine. The second, we gambled, and used the whole crop. The next spring, we opened the vineyard. Charlie was so proud. He hired a band every two weeks, advertised free music, and put bottles of our wine on ice back there, behind the counter. The first night, only a few people came, but after that we kept getting more and more. The bands played Glen Miller and Tommy Dorsey, and people came to listen and dance on the grass. They bought wine, of course; they bought lots of wine. We sold out by July, so that fall, Charlie bought grapes from another farm, and we made twice as much. In the spring of 1954, we both quit our jobs and ran the vineyard full time. We had to hire three people during the wine making season, and ten for the parties in the summer in order to get everything done. That year, on the evening of my birthday, Charlie asked me cover my eyes. He led me out to the front of the chalet, and told me to look up. He had painted "Laura's Vineyard" in gold letters across the front."

"He said he named it after me, because without me, it couldn't have ever happened. I broke down and cried, and when he showed me the new labels he had printed, I cried some more. Look at the bottle, and you'll see why."

The label was faded with age, but I could still see her. On a background of burgundy red, stood a younger Laura. She was dressed in the white, sweeping gown of a fairy-tale princess, and held a bouquet of pink roses. On a flowing banner above her were the words "Laura's Vineyard", and at her feet was a gold oval with "Select Rose" in black script.

"It's a very nice picture of a very beautiful woman, Laura."

"That's what Charlie said when he showed me the label. He said it was a beautiful woman for a beautiful wine."

She sipped her glass, and continued.

"The parties were wonderful, and we made money. People would drive all the way from South Bend and Chicago just to hear the music and buy our wine. Charlie and I had our special place too. Here, let me show you."

She rose and led me to the back, and then up a staircase. At the end of the room was a door, and she walked through the door onto the balcony.

"We would sit up here and listen to the music, and cuddle. When the band played our special song, we'd dance. Every time I come up here, I can almost see the crowds and the band, and sometimes, I can feel Charlie by my side."

She gazed into the autumn night sky for a few minutes, and then turned and walked back through the door. I followed, and closed it after myself. We went back downstairs, and sat down.

"On the eighteenth of December, in 1959, I found Charlie on the floor of the wine cellar. I called the ambulance, but by the time they got here, he was gone. After the funeral, I took stock, and decided to keep going and run the farm by myself. I didn't know how to make wine, so I stopped the parties, and started selling grapes for juice. The money isn't as good, but I manage by doing without what most people would think is necessary, and Charlie and I had put some money back. I just don't spend it, and people think I'm a little off for living like I do. That's why they started calling me Crazy Laura." She took another sip. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Laura, I don't think you're crazy. It's just that you don't associate with people much, and they don't know you. If you just dressed -"

"I know, if I dressed up and went to town, and all that stuff, people would feel sorry for me. That's not what you were going to say, but that's how it would be. I couldn't tolerate that, so I just live here by myself, and they can say what they want. Charlie knew who I was, and he's the only one who counted."

Her glass was almost empty, and she closed her eyes again. We sat like that through the last song on the record.

"Terry, there's a single by Glen Miller over there, "String of Pearls". Would you play it for me?"

I found the record, placed the needle on the track, and the soft buzz of saxaphones and violins filled the room. She listened for a moment, and then said, "Could you bring yourself to dance with an old woman?"

I took her in my arms. We must have looked really strange with me in my stained jeans and shirt, and Laura in that beautiful dress. We didn't really dance, because I didn't really know how. We just swayed back and forth, and as the song went on, she moved closer and closer. It was time for me to be amazed again. Her body was soft and yielding, but underneath the softness, I could feel the firm muscles that she kept toned with all that hard work. When the song ended, Laura held on with her cheek on my shoulder as the record player played it's unending "scratch-pop, scratch-pop, scratch-pop". After a minute, she gently pushed herself away. I lifted the needle and placed it on its stand. When I walked back to Laura, she picked up her glass, and handed me mine. She held her glass out for a toast, I clumsily clinked mine to hers, and we drank.

"Today is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Every year since Charlie died, I've come out here on this night, opened a bottle of his last wine, and listened to our music. Sometimes, it feels like he's here with me, and those nights are wonderful. Tonight, until you knocked on the door, I just felt alone." Laura sipped her wine, and seemed to think for a while. Then she said, "I'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to be in a man's arms. Would you dance with me again?"

Without waiting for a reply, she started the song again, and this time, I pulled her close. She pressed her breasts into my chest and lay her cheek on my shoulder, and we kept time with each other instead of with the song. The "scratch-pop" started before either of us was ready. Laura disengaged herself from my embrace, and shut off the record player.

She walked up to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me. I had kissed a girl or two, but this was different. Laura flowed into me in a kiss that made me catch my breath. As my heart threatened to burst through my chest, she whispered in my ear, "Hold me Terry, please hold me."

I took her in my arms very gently, and even then, I was afraid I was crushing her.

The soft whisper said, "You can squeeze tighter than that, Terry. I won't break."

As I tightened my embrace, she kissed me again, and this kiss melted away all my trepidation. Her lips were parted, and she forced her tongue between mine. They opened to match hers, and for the first time in my life, I understood what it really meant to kiss a woman. To this day, it is difficult to describe the feeling. . She inhaled me, and at the same time completely gave herself to me. It was as if we became one body joined by our lips; she felt as I felt, I tasted as she tasted, and our thoughts were only of the touch of one against the other.

Laura gently pushed me away. She didn't say anything. She just reached behind her back, and suddenly the dress floated to the floor. Laura stood before me in stockings and heels, black panties, and a black, lace garterbelt. She seemed to wait for something; years later, I understood she was waiting for me to say it was time to leave. I said nothing, because words could barely describe her beauty.

My stare started at the dark brown hair that fell in waves over her creamy white shoulders, and followed the faint blue veins on her breasts to the pale brown circles that painted their tips. Her breasts were not large, at least they weren't as large as those I had seen in men's magazines, but the shape was beautiful. They sagged a little, but their shape was round and full, and her small nipples stood away from their pink-tan bases. Her belly was mostly covered by the panties, but the swell of black satin was unbelievably erotic. There was a small area of creamy white visible between the legs of the panties and the tops of the stockings. Her nylon sheathed legs seemed to go on forever.

"Terry, you're not saying or doing anything. Am I that bad?"

"Gosh, Mrs. Hildebrand, no. It's just that I've never seen a woman so pretty. I don't know what to say or do."

Laura crossed the few feet that separated us, pressed her breasts into my chest and kissed me again. The same feeling hit me again, and I held her close. She broke the kiss, and the soft whisper breathed in my ears.

"Terry, if you want to leave, I'll understand, but I'd like you to stay. You've treated me better than anyone since Charlie. I know that I'm old, compared to you, but tonight, I really need you to be with me."

When I didn't move, she slowly pulled the T-shirt over my head. My belt went next, and I felt the zipper of my jeans being lowered. Laura pulled them down over my hips, and then pushed my shorts down. She pulled me close and pressed her face into my chest. My arms held her of their own accord, and my fingertips burned when they touched the satin skin of her back. Laura kissed her way up my chest, looked into my eyes as she pressed her nipples into me, and kissed me again.

I truly believed that the sensations of her kisses were the most exquisite feelings of my life, and in my own inexperienced way, I tried to return them. I was learning quickly, it seemed, because the intensity of Laura's lips and tongue increased, and she was breathing deeply through her nose. As her breath hit my cheek, my skin tingled with excitement, but nothing could have prepared me for the next sensation.

Laura slipped one hand to my butt cheek and squeezed. The other slid softly across the other hip and in between us. Soft fingers found my hard member, and lightly stroked across its length. The hand on my butt traced a path up to my arm, back to my hand, and gently guided my fingers to her breast. She placed my fingertips on her nipple, and began a gentle, circular, rubbing motion. When I picked up her rhythm, a tiny moan slipped between her lips and tingled at the back of my throat.

Laura released my shaft, and I felt her fussing with the garterbelt. The lacy garment was pulled from between us, and then I felt the satin touch as the panties slipped over my manhood. She moved away slightly as she raised first one foot and then the other, and then pressed her body against mine. The satin and lace had been replaced with soft curls, and when the head of my shaft brushed against them, incredible sensations surged from my loins to my brain.

She pushed me back gently until the couch touched the back of my legs. I sat down, and Laura spent a few moments with my boots. The jeans slid over my legs as she pulled then off, and I felt her soft hands gliding up my legs. The hands found my shorts, and they joined the jeans on the floor. Laura lifted my legs to force me to recline, and then covered my body with hers.

Her mouth found mine again, and she lay on my chest as we kissed. Her soft breasts flattened against me and her rapid heartbeat throbbed into me in counterpoint to mine. I put my arms around her, and because I didn't know what else to do, I gently rubbed her back. My hands explored down to her small waist, and then found the wonderful curve of her hips. I cupped them and squeezed, as she had done to me, and Laura groaned. She spread her legs, and pushed herself to a kneeling position over me. As she moved forward, the soft curls on her mound brushed over my manhood, and I jerked uncontrollably.

Laura reached behind her hips and grasped my erect shaft. She lowered herself until I felt soft lips caressing the head. As she moved me over their surface, I felt a slippery dampness unlike anything I had ever experienced. Laura tentatively pressed herself against me, and I slipped between the lips into the wet heat of her sex. She adjusted her position, and then slowly pushed herself down over my length. I closed my eyes at the incredible tension in my belly and then erupted in a blinding feeling of release. My body jerked as seed spurted through my manhood. Laura raised and then sat down over me. I spurted again, then again, and felt myself begin to grow soft.

Her hard nipples brushed across my chest as she leaned to kiss me again. I felt the incredible suction as she caressed my shaft with her passage, and I began to harden again. As Laura felt me increasing in size and length, she began slowly rocking her hips to force me in and out of her soft lips. Her nipples brushed up and down my chest, and I reached between us to gently squeeze and caress her. She broke the kiss, raised to sit on my shaft, and pulled both my hands to her breasts. I slowly massaged the soft mounds, and Laura began raising and lowering herself over me. The feelings were not so intense now, and as I gently squeezed and caressed her breasts, I concentrated on the sensation of her soft lips and the convolutions of her passage as they slipped easily over me.

Laura slipped her fingertip between us, and I saw that she was gently rubbing a firm nubbin of flesh that protruded from between her lips. She began to breath quickly, and she exhaled in small sounds. The speed of her strokes gradually increased to keep pace with her breathing, and I lost all thought of any individual sensation. Intense feelings shot throughout my body, and I began unconsciously to meet her downward push with my own upward thrust. I felt the same tension begin to build, although more slowly than at first. As the first wave of release began to flow from my thighs, Laura gasped, pushed down hard, and gasped again. She raised up, and when she lowered herself, I thrust up hard, and shot my seed deep inside her. Laura cried out, then cried out again, and her whole body shuddered. Wave after wave rippled her passage over me, and I thrust up to meet them as I spurted another gush of release. She ground her mound into me as the third jet of my seed splashed into her, and her final cry was a low and lingering hum. Laura collapsed onto my chest and held my shoulders tightly. She whispered, "Thank you, Terry.", and we lay united until we fell asleep.

She was gone when I woke, but an envelope leaned against the empty wine bottle. Inside, I found twenty, one hundred dollar bills and a note in the familiar feminine script.

Dear Terry,

Please don't come to the house to say good-bye. After last night, I couldn't face you. I didn't know how much I needed you until after we danced, but being in your arms brought back feelings I thought were dead forever. You made me feel like the girl on the wine label again, and for this, my heart will always hold a special memory of you and of this night. Please don't think I'm a terrible woman for wanting you, but I needed so much to be loved again. You were the only person since Charlie died to look past the outside to see the woman inside, and I needed you to let me feel like that woman again.

I know you didn't make enough money to get back to school this fall, but I know of no man who deserves it more. I hope this money will help. Don't worry about me. As I said, Charlie and I put some back, and I would rather spend it this way than to buy things I really don't need. Take care of yourself and study hard. You're going to be a great engineer someday.

Love,

Laura

I went back to school that fall, and managed to win an academic scholarship that paid for tuition and fees. Spring break found me back home for a week, and when I drove past Laura's place, I saw that she hadn't yet trimmed up the vineyard. I bought a dozen pink roses and drove out to Laura's. As I drove in, she was walking to the house in the same sweatshirt and jeans as last summer.

"I hear you need some help with your grapes, and I thought you might like these."

Laura smiled and took the roses to the house. She came back with a set of shears.

"You ever trim grapes before?"

"I have. I once worked for this crazy woman who turned out to be beautiful."

Laura laughed and started for the field.

I worked for Laura every spring break, and every summer until I graduated. We never went back to the chalet, and we never made love again, but there was a special something between us after that night. It was always a little sad when the last load of grapes were safely on the truck and away.

I graduated in the spring of 1970, and Laura rode with Mom to the graduation. She presented me with a bottle of Charlie's wine and a kiss on the cheek. I still don't know which I liked best. A few weeks after graduation, I got a job in Grand Rapids, and had been working for nine months when I got a call from a Bridgeman attorney named Bill Dobson.

"Mr. Winters, I'm Laura Hildebrand's attorney. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she passed away last night. She wanted you to know if anything happened to her, and asked me to take care of the notification. Her funeral is in two days, and she wanted you to attend if it's possible. I'd also like you to come to my office as soon as you can."

When I saw her for the last time, she was beautiful again. She looked to be just sleeping and I longed to wake her, but I knew Laura was with Charlie, and was again the Laura only he and I knew. I stood by the open casket for a while, remembering, and then finally touched her hand and said good-bye. It felt strange to be the only one in the room; Laura had never mentioned relatives, and apparently she had none.

The funeral was very small by any standard. The service was held in the funeral home, and besides me, the only attendees were Bill Dobson and a local minister. At the graveside, the minister said a few more words, and before I left, I placed the pink roses I had brought on top of the casket. I caught up with Bill as we walked back to our cars.