Taking Chances

She then noticed two shelves on the book case that had small wooden animals and walked over to it. "These are beautiful," she said.

"Thank you, I love carving animals," he said.

"You made these," she said, glancing back at him then at the carvings. "This dog is so amazing. I've never seen anything like this and the bird. You're really talented," she said, her eyes looking intently at the dozens of animals, some of them much larger than the others, some unpainted but others exquisitely painted. She picked up the carving of a cat painted black with a small white spot sitting looking up as if watching a bird, its tail curled and then she turned and saw Tom watching her. "I can't believe you made these," she said. "These should be in a museum or gallery."

"A few are," he said, "but mostly they are all here and I'm waiting to be discovered but recently my main passion is writing."

"Yes, I saw you writing in the park. What do you write?" she asked putting the carving of the cat back on the shelf.

"Ideas, philosophy, poetry, sometimes just observations, sketches," Tom said taking the notebook out of his jacket pocket and thumbed through the pages. "I wrote about you when I went back to the park."

"You did. I don't believe it. You wrote about me," she said. "What did you write?"

"Are you sure you want to hear," he said, opening to the page.

"Of course. I'm curious. No one has ever written about me before."

He smiled, looked down at the page, putting his finger where he was going to read, cleared his throat. "Catherine doesn't realize how beautiful she is but I sense she is filled with longing and wants to be seen and known but has allowed herself to accept that this is her life and nothing is going to change. I have only known her for ten minutes but I hope I can get to know her better. I'm not sure if that will ever happen but if it does, I want what I haven't had for so many years. I want passion and I don't want to die never having the passion I have always longed for."

Tom looked up from his reading and saw Catherine looking back at him, her mouth wide open as if in shock. "That's it," he said.

"My goodness," Catherine finally said, realizing he was expressing something she had been feeling. "I can't believe you wrote that. You're full of surprises, Tom. That was beautiful. I felt tears while you read that," and she suddenly walked over to him and touched his face, her fingers stroking his cheeks just above his beard then her fingers touched his lips, touching him to see if he was real and not a fantasy. She looked into his eyes and smiled and he looked into her eyes, returning her smile and without thinking she moved her mouth to his and he moved his mouth to hers and they kissed lightly, tenderly and then she put her hand on the back of his head, pulling his lips harder to hers and their kissing grew more passionate, his arms around her shoulders, pulling her deeper into his body, his arms embracing her, their kissing growing more intense until she couldn't stand it any more and pulled her lips away, gasping, both looking into each others eyes, a smile on their lips and she knew she had crossed a threshold and entered a realm that felt warm and thrilling and they kissed again, their tongues swirling, their hunger for each other growing and he took his hand and led her to his bed and held her close and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach, felt herself growing moist between her legs, knew she wanted nothing more than to make love to him. He stepped back and unbuttoned her blouse, looking into her eyes while she unbuckled his belt, the button to his corduroy pants, lowering the zipper while he slipped her blouse over her shoulders, gently removing her arms from the sleeves, seeing her bra, her nipples pressing the material, the cleavage exciting him while she lowered his pants, he reached around to unfasten her bra, slipping the straps from her shoulders, seeing her soft, sagging breasts, their eyes looking into each others eyes, loving the slow undressing of each other and they kissed again while he pulled her wet silky panties over her soft wide hips and down her thighs, before lowering her to his bed, kissing her, laying between her legs, feeling his hard cock pressing against her wet pussy, slowly grinding while she wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him harder against her, lifting her hips wanting more of him then gasping, whispered, "make love to me" and he did, entering her gently, pushing slowly feeling her pussy adjusting to his hardness then pushing harder, going deeper both of them moving together, kissing, thrusting, moving as one, slowly then faster and faster, panting, whimpering, building until he felt her tensing, trembling, getting closer and he moved faster and harder, her pussy gripping his cock and suddenly she exploded in a huge orgasm, screaming, while he kept thrusting harder and harder and she felt him tensing, thrusting faster and suddenly exploding, shooting his warm cum deep into her, soft guttural grunts coming from his chest and throat with each thrust before ecstatically writhing then collapsing on her, the soft sounds of her breathing under him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his cock still deep in her, loving the warm wetness of her pussy, the strength of her arms and legs holding him in her, both of them overwhelmed by what had happened, laying there wallowing in the afterglow, noticing it was now dark outside and in the room. Still breathing heavily, he turned her on her side away from him and molded his body to hers, spooning in the small dark room, both laying quietly, the aroma of their sex in the air, his lips kissing her neck and shoulder, the back of her head. Catherine lay there, loving the warmth of his body against hers, the soft feel of his cock against her ass, his lips on her shoulder, not wanting to move, the sound of traffic outside in contrast to the quiet of the apartment then glancing at the red numbers on the digital clock on the table next to the bed, remembering in a panic that she had to catch the six-forty-five train since she had already missed the one she usually takes after work. Her car was at the train station and it would take her fifteen minutes to drive home and arrive before Martin came home from his meeting and she wanted to have something for him to eat.

"Oh my goodness, I have to catch the train," Catherine said, suddenly shattering the moment, the reality of her life dissipating the realm they had entered. "I have to go," she said, turning her face towards Tom's, feeling him release her as she shifted then quickly sat up. "Sorry," she said to him, running her hands through her hair. Tom reached in back of her and turned on the lamp and sighed at the thought of her having to leave but knew how stressed Catherine was now that she had to rush to the train and get home before Martin did.

Catherine leaped out of the bed, picking her clothes up from the floor, looked at Tom leaning on his elbow looking up at her then quickly dashed into the bathroom to pee and get dressed. Tom got up and put on his pants, not buckling the belt and stood there shirtless and barefooted when she came out of the bathroom, tucking her blouse into her skirt, looking at the white hairs on his chest, then at his eyes looking into hers, seeing his sadness that she had to leave but the understanding of the situation.

"I'll walk you to the station," he said.

"No, don't. Thank you. I just want to go," she said, realizing she didn't really want to leave so suddenly but had to. She put on her shoes, holding onto Tom as she bent down, putting on one shoe then the other, picked up her pocketbook, putting it over her shoulder then looked around the apartment as if taking a snap shot to savor then went to the door to open it just as Tom put his hand on the door holding it closed and wrapped his arms around Catherine, kissing her. She returned the kiss then put her hand on his chest, pushing him away. "I have to go," she said, reaching for the knob. When she opened the door, she glanced back at Tom standing there, stopped, reached to touch his cheek and said, "Thank you. Good bye" and left.

Catherine barely made the six-forty five, but got on, glad it wasn't as crowded as the earlier train and sat down in the place she usually sat, finally able to settle herself from the fear of missing it just as the train bolted forward then picked up speed. Catherine looked at her reflection in the dark window as the train rattled and wobbled, her mind barraged with thoughts of what had just happened to her, emotions swirling, not sure what she was feeling as the realization that she had cheated on Martin hit her and how excited she felt about Tom and where that was heading, if anywhere, what did she want, how would she face Martin. She looked up at the people sitting around her, a heavy set black woman wearing the green scrub uniform from the hospital, an old woman fishing through her pocketbook, a girl texting, an woman close to her age sitting across from her, reading a book and Catherine wondered if she looked as old as that woman, seeing the wrinkles, the pale, flabby skin, the dry grey hair, no lipstick and thought, "I hope I look younger than she does," she thought, realizing she wanted to feel young again, wanted Tom to think she was sexy and beautiful, wondering if she should again try to lose some weight. She looked at the conductor walking down the aisle punching tickets then heard the computerized voice of a woman saying, "Girard Street Station, a wheel chair accessible station, doors are opening."

Finally, she got off the train at her station and dashed up the steps to the parking lot, found her maroon Subaru and drove the familiar route to her house, glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, realizing she had twenty minutes before Martin would be home, wondering if he had tried calling and got the answering machine and what he would think if she wasn't home to answer the phone. She couldn't stop thinking about Tom and how he made love to her, how she felt sneaking off to his apartment, did she want it to happen again or should she stop and not shake up her life with an affair. The thought of hurting Martin if he ever found out she cheated swelled in her mind. Where was all this heading? Where did she want it to go? She didn't know. All she knew was how confused and exhilarated she felt. When she pulled into her driveway, parking in front of the closed garage door, she sat there, not moving, looking at her house, the memory of Tom's small apartment flashing in her mind, the carved animals, the way she felt in his arms. She took a deep breath, opened her car door and entered her house, going straight to the kitchen, filling up the white tea kettle. "A nice cup of mint tea is what I need," she thought, glancing up at the clock realizing she would be facing Martin in ten or so minutes, could she act normal now that her life had suddenly changed, wondering if she could live in the two realms of existence--her life with Martin and what might be her life with Tom. She was suddenly a wreck of emotions, trying to stay calm as she waited for Martin, wondering what she could fix him when he got home. She remembered the tuna casserole she made for dinner last night, there was still some left, she could microwave that and felt relieved it would not be much of a hassle to serve that. The tea pot whistled and she poured the water over her mint tea bag, lifting it in and out as it brewed then sighed, looking up at the clock again before taking the cup to the table, savoring the first sip just as the front door opened.

"Hello, dear," he said when he entered the kitchen, putting his brief case down then kissing her on the head, in the same spot he kissed her every night when he came home.

"Hello, my love," he said. "How are you? How was your day?" he asked, taking off his suit jacket and folding it neatly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, "Is anything new?" he asked before she could answer any of the previous questions. She often wondered if he really cared, the questions were always so automatic when he came home, but she answered, "I'm fine. Nothing is new. Work was good, nothing special--an ordinary day," she lied, holding down the excitement she felt, trying to keep the realm of her marriage away from the new realm she had entered that day.

"Would you like me to heat up the tuna casserole from last night?"

"Yes, that would be nice. I'm hungry," he said, sitting down at the table and picking up the newspaper from the chair where he left it at breakfast.

Realizing she was also hungry, she got up and took the casserole out of the refrigerator, placed it in the microwave. While it was heating up, she took down two plates from the cabinet, still feeling exhilarated but appearing calm and efficient as she took the casserole from the microwave, prepared two plates with the tuna and noodles and brought them to the table, placing Martin's in front of him with a fork and napkin, bent down to kiss his head, touching his shoulder then sat down across from him with her plate.

"Thank you, dear," he said smiling at her then picked up the paper and began reading while she sat and looked at him, enjoying for a moment the comfort of their familiarity, but wishing he would talk to her and not read the paper and remembered how passionate Tom was when he was writing and how he challenged her with his questions and his bluntness and she found herself comparing the two men that were suddenly in her life.

As the weeks passed, the contrast between her life with Martin and her life with Tom became increasingly dramatic and Catherine found it challenging to balance the two but managed to keep the two worlds apart. At home with Martin, they had breakfast together before he left, kissing her on the head then driving his Volvo to his office in Norristown while Catherine left fifteen minutes later, drove to the train station to go downtown, a ten minute walk to her office, enjoying walking through the park and past the bench where Tom and she first met but now she would rush to his apartment at lunch time for a quick, passionate rendezvous or meet him at the café or take a walk through the park, though that made her nervous, not wanting to be seen by any of her friends.

Martin and Catherine spent their evenings together when he didn't have meetings, she reading, he, either watching the news on TV or doing the crossword puzzle. They went to friends for dinner or an occasional movie and he always asked if she wanted tea or would she like him to massage her shoulders. They often took turns doing that, he would massage her then she would massage him. In bed they cuddled and she loved how tender he could be but it was different than the way Tom held her and kissed her, at first gentle but then passionately and she loved his imagination when they made love, unlike the familiar routine that she and Martin had.

She knew that Tom used Viagra, something that Martin would never consider, but it definitely made a difference in how hard Tom got and how long he could last and he did things that enhanced their lovemaking, introducing some role playing, sometimes holding her hands above her head, pinning her hands, gripping her fingers, looking down into her eyes, his mouth inches from her mouth and she felt captured and possessed like the lovers in her romance novels, or sometimes he would come up behind her, pushing her against the wall, his hands grabbing her pussy, grinding his cock into her ass or he would spread her legs, getting his mouth on her pussy, licking and lapping--something Martin never did. Tom was an adventurous, energetic lover, playful, daring, always finding new ways to surprise Catherine and she loved when he teased her, moving his cock up and down her pussy then pulling away just as she was on the verge of exploding and it drove her wild, she even liked when he talked dirty to her, called her names and even though she knew it was playing, it made her shout names back at him and she felt like she was living in one of her fantasies except this was real. Suddenly, she felt youthful like her life was beginning all over again and she adored Tom's youthful, passionate spirit and she realized getting old was more a state of mind than age.

They found ways to meet and go bicycling through the state park, go swimming in the lake, lay on the beach, laughing, having a picnic. She liked the smell of his corn cob pipe when he's smoke it, sitting in the blue hair after dinner. One weekend when Martin was out of town, Tom rented a cabin in the mountains and they made love on the floor in front of the fire place and he chased her through the woods, both of them naked and the made breathless love on a grassy hill. She loved that though he was seventy and she was fifty nine, they were like teen agers and she was living in a way she always imagined and dreamed about and she knew she was now madly in love with Tom, wanting to spend more and more time with him.

When she was home with Martin, their evenings were pleasant, comfortable and she knew she loved him, cared about him, but now understood on a visceral level the difference between loving someone and being in love. Martin was a dear man, still, in many ways, her best friend and they shared so much history and even returned to the Avalon Bistro for their thirty fifth anniversary and laughed as they reminisced and clicked glasses with the owners who treated them to a glass of wine, but still when she looked at Martin, she didn't feel the way she felt when she looked at Tom, never felt the thrill when they greeted each other. She loved laying her head on Tom's shoulder after they made love, talking, laughing, cuddling and feeling close. She loved hearing what he was writing and how he read to her, the warmth of his voice and even when they were quiet in the same room, when she looked at him, the tingle she felt when they first met came over her and she felt happy and it got harder and harder for her to go home to Martin.

Though she was able to maintain the tranquility of her marriage and knew Martin had no idea she was having an affair, something that actually bothered Catherine, wishing he wasn't so blind or indifferent to how she now dressed for work or how she spent more time away or how she avoided him in bed, though they still made love, she knew it wasn't the same but sensed that Martin didn't and she wished he was more tuned into her. She also wanted to spend more and more time with Tom and ever since the time she made love to him that first night in his apartment, she felt she was living a lie, knowing she was betraying her vows to Martin, being an adulterer and hated feeling guilty for wanting to be with Tom every chance she got. More and more she felt trapped and frightened of hurting Martin but the tangled up emotions she was feeling were growing tighter, hurting her, strangling her. She felt tense, her mind filled with confused thoughts and she would stare out the window or up at the ceiling in bed. She knew she could not continue living this lie and that she was inevitably heading towards a collision that would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do--tell Martin she was in love with another man and had been having an affair for well over a year.

Many times, she discussed her dilemma with Tom and he listened to her, nodding but would not give her advice but would ask, wisely, what did she want to do and she would say she didn't know and he would nod and say, I understand how hard this is for you but it's hurting you, driving you crazy, what are you going to do about it and when she asked, what should I do, still, he would not tell her.

One day when Melissa was over the house visiting her mother, she said, "Mom, something is bothering you. I can tell. What's going on?"