tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 10

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 10

byCheleste©

Paul brought a girl home. Her name was Kira. She attended the college in town. She was from Portland.

Pretty, smiling, blonde. He always picked sort of generic pretty ones.

His elbow was angled around her neck, and I felt a little sorry for her. Paul was nice enough, but rather immature and insensitive when it came to women. I knew he'd grow up eventually, but it seemed like it would take a while.

Jonah, on the other hand, had a kind of maturity beyond his years. I'm not quite sure how he and Paul had ended up being friends, but I suspected that part of it was simply the fact that there weren't that many kids to choose from around here.

She joined the boys in their nightly ritual of TV watching and beer drinking. I could hear her feminine voice and laugh coming from the living-room now and then.

Paul took her to his bedroom earlier than he usually turned in, and Jonah joined me in my room, where I was reading in bed. For some reason, the beer on his breath smelled stronger than usual, and it bothered me a little bit.

A loud bump came from Paul's room across the hall, then a crash, muffled voices, and laughter. I didn't know what had happened, but if they were laughing, I figured it was probably okay.

Then there were some yelping and whooping noises, and more bumping. They were conducting quite a circus in there.

I didn't know for sure, but I suspected that Paul was sending a little payback for all the nights Jonah and I had been cloistered away together in my room. Well, he was certainly due. I didn't begrudge him some entertainment. Kira was quite a live wire, and Jonah and I looked at each-other and laughed.

He leaned over me and kissed my mouth. The playful, amorous vibes floating in the airwaves were turning us on, so we took advantage of it and joined in. A house of love, tonight - or lust. Maybe both. Maybe just lust. Good enough.

He moved in closer, his tongue getting more emphatic, his hand moving to my breast. Just the thought that Paul and Kira were kissing, making love, ignited a warm flame in my bowels and pushed me further into the inviting sensations.

My mind kept picturing Paul touching Kira, and it made the movements Jonah was doing doubly arousing. My body was undulating in a snake-like motion, rubbing up against Jonah, pulling off his clothes, exposing my skin to his hands as I tugged impatiently at mine. The beer on his breath was intoxicating me now, and I sucked his tongue, breathing the vapors in deeply.

"Fuck me, Jonah," I pleaded. And in my ear, I could hear Kira saying, "Fuck me, Paul."

So he entered me and began pumping, and I could see the double machinery, like two oil wells side by side, Paul and Jonah, dipping deeper, deeper, deeper into the earth.

I heard low masculine sounds which I knew were Paul, and Kira yelled then, her uninhibited banshee cry urging me on to my own release, which came quickly and suddenly. Then Jonah cried out, and we were complete.

We were satisfied and satiated, and we rolled over to snooze until morning.

****

Kira and I met early over the coffee pot.

"Do you have class this morning?"

"Yeah, I've gotta rouse Paul, or I'm gonna be late."

"That's not so easy to do. He has an afternoon job for just that reason."

I looked at her, knowing I needed to take her into my confidence. She was young and liberal. I figured she'd understand.

So I said casually, woman to woman, "Kira, nobody really knows about Jonah and me. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it to anyone."

I didn't figure she ran in any of the same circles I did, but in this town, it didn't take much for connections to be made, even inadvertently - especially inadvertently.

"Sure, Mrs. Welsh," she said agreeably.

"Oh God, please don't call me that. I'm Jean."

I put my hand out and she took it.

"Kira."

"Yes, I know. A very pretty name."

"Thanks."

She turned toward Paul's bedroom. "I better go blast him out of bed."

"Yeah. Hey, Kira, you're welcome here any time."

"Thanks. I'll see ya'."

****

Margaret called again that day. She had waited a respectable few days, but she'd had time to realize I hadn't given her all the information on our lunch date, and wanted to complete her score card.

"Let's meet somewhere more private," I suggested, giving her the indication I knew she was hoping for. "That'll be perfect. See you then."

I hung up the phone, feeling pretty confident. At least the cat was out of the proverbial bag now - though I wasn't sure what damage its claws might do.

Jonah and I headed out the door in the evening at the same time.

"Going home?" I queried.

"Yeah."

He kissed me good-bye this time. I looked into his green eyes. He was so beautiful.

"I love you. See you."

****

I arrived at Margaret's sweet little faux log cottage about sunset. The colors in the sky were gorgeous, really brilliant, and her house looked so perfect against them. Being up on this hill reminded me of everything that made me want to live in this area. It was a magical place.

She ushered me into her small but meticulously appointed living-room, and the sunset tour de force was framed in its huge picture window. We sat at the tiny round table with its high wicker back chairs and served tea from her dainty china tea set. She had made delicate cookie wafers to go with the tea.

I always loved to visit Margaret at home. It was as nice as going out, but more comfortable and relaxed. She wore a lovely caftan that was as chic as a party gown, and as homey as a bathrobe. I was comfortable, as usual, in my cotton gingham dress, but not nearly so fashionable. Oh well. She never seemed to care.

We kissed and exchanged pleasantries. Then it was time to get down to business. Women's business.

"Paul brought a girl home the other night," I announced.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It's the first one I've seen for quite a while. He doesn't know her that well - she goes to the university - but I figure if he's bringing her to the house, it means something. I'm not sure what, but something."

"What's she like?"

"Well, her name's Kira. She's from Portland. She's pretty, in that generic blonde way Paul always finds attractive. I can't really tell much about her yet...

"She's a little wild and crazy - they were kinda noisy after they went to bed, if you know what I mean."

Margaret smiled, piqued, but restrained. She didn't need to know Jonah had been there too.

Then we were ready to move on to the next subject, so I stopped to consider what I wanted to say.

"So...I guess you're wondering who my mystery man is..."

I did that on purpose. He was still a lot boy, too, but it sounded better this way.

Margaret was attentive.

"Well, it's Jonah."

"Jonah?" she asked, and I could see the wheels turning in her memory banks, trying to locate him.

"Yeah. He's...Paul's friend."

"That Jonah?"

How many Jonahs did she know?

Margaret and I always talked on the phone or got together, just the two of us, so she didn't really know Paul firsthand. She just heard about him, and his friends, from me. She had probably seen him and Jonah around town occasionally - knew what they looked like - but that was about it.

"Jean..." she paused. "This is a little hard for me to imagine."

"Margaret, I know it seems crazy. I never would have predicted it. I wasn't looking for it. It was just there one day, and I acted on it. And then I got really scared, and I backed off; but it wouldn't go away. And what was so amazing was that he wanted it as much as I did. And I know it's crazy, but in ways we're really compatible..."

Margaret scoffed mildly. "Of course he wanted it."

"Margaret, it's not like that. I mean, it is - what red-blooded boy doesn't want it - but it's more than that. So much more."

I was feeling a little frustrated. I wanted her to understand. I wanted her to realize. I couldn't afford to be seen by her the way everyone else would see me if they knew. They were wrong!

"Margaret...please don't tell me all the things I've been telling myself for two months! Jonah is a real person. He's not just a kid. I'm not just a middle-aged woman. We're two people relating to each-other, negotiating our relationship the way any two people negotiate a relationship. He has a lot of wonderful qualities. He's a flesh and blood person with feelings, opinions, flaws, gifts, insights, bad habits - just like any other man! And our relationship deserves respect just like any other relationship!"

I had moved from defense to offense, and Margaret got it.

"I'm sorry, Jean. You're right. I can see you've been doing a lot of thinking about this. You're the one living it. I made judgments about it without really knowing the story.

"If you tell me that this is a real relationship, then I believe you. But if it's a real relationship, then how long are you going to cover it up?"

I stopped at that. It was a good question. And I suddenly had the answer.

"You know, Margaret, you're absolutely right. If this is a real relationship, it's going to have to come out eventually. And why shouldn't it? I've been walking around, so afraid of people finding out. But if my conscience is clear, what do I have to worry about?

"At first, I didn't want people to know, because what we were doing really was sort of the stereotype: it was the scandalous affair everyone would have thought it was. But it's not any more. It's turning into something serious, even if we don't know where it's going, and it's the sort of thing that belongs in the open.

"After all, sex is a private matter anyway, so there's no reason to go broadcasting that to people. But relationships are part of the social fabric, and I think there's a place there for Jonah and me.

"I mean, it's not like I'm ready to go announce it to everybody, but I can see that as we go along, it's just going to be a matter of time before it becomes known.

"Having you and Paul know is the first couple steps. Jonah's mother - she's the next. And I don't know what to think about her because Jonah is pretty much estranged from her, and I don't really know what kind of person she is, but she might be the kind to cause trouble. Jonah's not much help in her department. He's pretty closed off to her."

"Yeah, she's not the friendly sort."

"You know her?"

"She came to me when she bought her house. And then she bought a piece of land a few years later."

"Jonah would hardly give her the time of day, the way he talks about her. I don't know what she did to him, but there's something there. He won't tell me, and I don't want to open a can of worms or anything. I just want to figure out the best way for her to find out about us - if there is one."

"Well, I sure think you'd be courting trouble if you went to talk to her yourself. At this point, it's Jonah's business to tell her - not yours."

"Oh, there's no way I would do that. I guess I'm just gonna have to tread water for a while. Maybe something will come along at the right time."

"I don't envy you this dilemma," Margaret sympathized.

I hurried to correct her. "Margaret, it's not that bad. It's really good. Jonah is... intriguing... sensitive... fascinating. Different from anyone I've ever known. Getting to know him is like going down this well that just keeps getting deeper and deeper. He's really...healed something in me that's been broken ever since Paul's dad left..."

"Wow Jean, that's wonderful."

"Yeah, it is." I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

I yawned then.

"Wow, I'm tired. I think I need to go home. Hey, we haven't talked about you at all. What did you do on your trip?"

Margaret deferred, "Oh, nothing that interesting. It can wait. We'll talk soon."

I collected my shawl and threw it over my shoulders before I went out.

Margaret's parting wave was like a footnote in my mind, because I was suddenly remembering the last time I had thrown a knitted wrap over my shoulders against the cool night air.

Ahhh...that had been a night!

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