Tapestry Ch. 01

Melinda cooked breakfast for the six of us, which she says was the easiest meal she had prepared in a long time. Apparently, in her marriage, she has herself, a husband, two wives and eight children: quadruplets who were sixteen and in high school, three who were nineteen and in college, and a daughter who was twenty two and had just graduated from the Naval Academy and received her commission.

I love my little girl . . . excuse me, young woman . . . more than life itself, but I if I had eight children, I think I'd go bananas. Although her living arrangements seemed odd to me (and this is from someone who had a lesbian marriage before they were legal), they worked for Melinda and her family, so who am I to judge?

We took care of the things on the check-out list and then the other five girls loaded their things up in Melanie's rental SUV. I gave my old friend a warm hug and thanked her for inviting me along. I promised to keep up with my new friends.

Nichole was the last to load up. We shared a secret smile, and then she gave me a quick embrace. I turned my head and found her lips pressed against mine for the briefest of seconds.

"I'll be back to see you," she whispered in my ear.

"I can't wait," I replied.

I'm sure the other girls saw us, but no one said anything, at least not to me. Nichole got in the car and they drove away.

****************

I have been out of the dating game for so long I don't know what the proper etiquette is anymore. Could I call her the next day? Three days? What about text or email?

Melanie posted some pictures on the Facebook that night when she got home and tagged us all, so I got to make some snarky comments about my new friends.

The next day, Nichole called me. I was sitting out on the deck beneath the awning and reading a book on my iPad. Maureen was off at her part-time job.

"Hey, there," she said.

"Hey, there, yourself." All I could do was smile. "I take it you got home okay."

"Yes," she replied. "Although I got stuck in Charlotte for three extra hours."

"See?" I said in a teasing tone. "You should have stayed for a day or two."

"I wish I could have." There was a wistfulness in her voice. Of course, she had to work and be a mother to her son, where I could pretty much lounge around whenever I wanted. There was a long pause before she spoke again. "About that . . . would you like to come up next weekend?"

"This coming weekend or the next one?" I asked. I switched over to the calendar app.

"Um, not this weekend; I'll have Stephen," she said. "How about the sixteenth?"

I frowned to myself. "I can't. Maureen goes back to school and we're moving her into a new apartment. What about the thirtieth? You could come back here and stay though Labor Day Monday if child care wouldn't be an issue."

She didn't say anything for a minute, and I could hear here shuffling a calendar. "Don't want to come to New York?"

"I love New York," I said. "There's only one problem with me coming to visit you."

"What's that?"

"I'm out, and you're not."

Nichole started to say something, but stopped herself. She knew I was right.

"Look," I took a deep breath. "I don't know what you think about us. Hell, I don't know what I think about us. I like you, and if you don't want anything more than just hanging out, that's fine with me, but if you do want more than that, I need to know if you're at least interested."

"I like you, too," she said, and I could hear a tremor of fear in her voice. "I mean, I really like you. But you're right. Coming here might not be such a great idea . . . at least not right away."

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" I finally asked quietly.

"That I've lost my mind." Although her words were flippant, I knew exactly how she felt. The conflict, the doubts, the uncertainty; all of those had raced through my mind just before my first date with McKayla. "What are you thinking?"

"That I can't wait four weeks to see you again," I whispered. Sure enough, because of her custody arrangements and my schedule, it would be almost a month before we could get together again.

"Can you travel during the week?" she asked suddenly.

"I'm retired," I replied simply. "I can pretty much travel any time."

"I have a business trip next week." I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Baltimore on Monday and Tuesday, then DC from Wednesday to Friday. Would you like to meet me there for a couple of days?"

"I would love to," I breathed. It had been so long since I felt the tingle of anticipation in my stomach. And if I would let myself admit it, it felt so good!

"Excellent." She sounded relieved. "I'll get the hotel information for you."

"Lovely. I can probably only stay for a couple of days," I checked some of the other days on my calendar. "We're taking Maureen up to school on Thursday, but I can come up for Monday and Tuesday, at least."

"Okay." She sounded just as nervous and excited as I did. "Oh, and Amberle?"

"Yes?"

"When I woke up this morning, I wondered where you had gone."

****************

The next week seemed to drag on. Nichole and I talked a couple of times. There always seemed to be a nervous undercurrent in our conversations. I think we both just needed to know what we wanted, if only for our own sake.

It took Maureen about a day to figure out that something was up.

"You've met someone!" She seemed positively giddy when we went out to dinner one night.

"I wouldn't go that far," I blushed, and hoped she would be okay with my seeing someone new. I had dated a little bit while she was away at school, but for the most part, after McKayla died, I didn't go out very much. I couldn't bring myself to even consider opening my heart up again. "We both want to take this slow."

Maureen asked about Nichole, and we did what girls do: we went shopping. Truly, I didn't need any new clothes, but I did need to spend some time with my daughter. She helped me pick out a couple of new outfits. I refused to try on some of the things she suggested; I was forty-four years old, not twenty-two, and there are few things I hate more than people being dressed inappropriately for their age.

I did ask that she not tell her grandparents; McKayla's mom and stepdad, Suzie and Don, had been trying for a while to set me up, but a part of me felt like I was betraying them if I went out with someone else after being so in love with their daughter. I know it was irrational of me, but if things didn't work out between me and Nichole, I didn't want to have to face them about it unnecessarily.

There was also a little nagging voice in the back of my head that doubted that I was ready for another relationship, even after so long.

Before I left, I promised Maureen that I'd be back in time to get her moved into her apartment at school.

"You deserve to be happy, Mommy," my daughter told me. "And even if things don't work out with this girl, it's nice to see that smile again."

"What smile?"

"The one you used to have when you and Mom were holding hands." I was touched that she seemed to be genuinely pleased that I was interested in someone else. "By the way, the next time you talk to Aunt Melanie, tell her she owes me a hundred bucks."

My connecting flight was in Pittsburgh, which seemed strange to fly north and past where I wanted to go, then come back, but that's what you get when you live in a place with a po-dunk airport that has no direct flights anywhere.

Nichole told me she had business meetings all day Monday and part of Tuesday, so I was flying in late Sunday afternoon. She had rented a car for the three hour drive from New York to Baltimore and sure enough, she was waiting for me on the curb at Thurgood Marshall Airport.

My heart raced when I saw her leaning back against the car. She was wearing a thin blouse and nice pair of jeans. Her sunglasses held her hair back. She smiled at me. I walked over to her and smiled back.

We stood there for a long moment, each wondering if the other was going to make a move.

Finally, she opened her arms and I stepped into a warm embrace. She kissed me on the cheek.

I put my carry-on suitcase in the backseat of the rental sedan, and we drove off. The sun was just setting as we pulled into the Inner Harbor area.

"Have you eaten yet?" Nichole asked conversationally.

"Not since lunch," I replied.

"What do you like? Steak? Seafood? Cheesecake Factory? Sushi?"

"I'll eat just about anything. You pick."

She drove along the interstate to downtown Baltimore, then we followed Pratt Street along the Inner Harbor area, all the while listening to the Garmin spit out directions.

Soon enough, we pulled up to a place called Ra Sushi, which is a chain that has several locations throughout the country. She parked in a spot along the street and we got out.

Ra is what I consider to be a "Vegas"-style sushi restaurant. The crowd is young and hip, the ceilings are high and the music is loud. All of the servers are thin and pretty. You can get some traditional sushi and sashimi, but mostly the food is some type of fusion sushi with lots of spice and "flair" that makes traditional sushi chefs wince.

There wasn't much of a crowd on Sunday night and we were seated quickly. The pulsing dance music made it very easy to have a private conversation in a public place.

"Do you trust me?" Nichole asked playfully.

"I don't know that I like the sound of that," I smiled back.

When the server came back with our drinks, Nichole ordered a plate of sushi and sashimi, a couple of appetizers and a bottle of plum wine.

The two of us made small talk. She was in town trying to drum up business. While her family owned a produce shipping company that supplied the lower west side of Manhattan with food, she was into real estate.

"After Michael died," she explained to me, "I got a very generous life insurance settlement, plus I won a wrongful death lawsuit against the driver who killed him. So I took the money and bought the apartment building where we lived. I live on a full floor of the building. I lease out the first two floors as retail and office space. Everything else is apartments. The building sits on Central Park West and you can hit Columbus Circle with a water balloon slingshot from the roof, so I can charge premium rates for the location."

Of course, she was able to buy the building fifteen years ago after her husband died before the price of real estate in New York was merely high and not ridiculous.

"Do you have problems filling vacancies?" I asked.

"Not really," she replied. "There's always someone who wants to move in. The apartments are easy. But I hate trying to find tenants for the stores. The trick is to find a business that will last. Most places, especially restaurants, fold within a year. It can get expensive turning over a space every six months. Plus, if a location earns a reputation as being bad for business, it's hard to fill it. I'm hoping to convince some folks from here to branch out and open a store in New York."

"Have you ever thought about selling?"

"A couple of times. Trump says he wants to buy the building, but he keeps low-balling me." Our food arrived and we dug in. She paused for a moment. Our eyes met and I knew what she was going to say before her lips formed the words. "It was also where Michael and I lived, and I'm not ready to sell our home yet."

I reached across the table and took her hand. That was the real reason why I hadn't sold the house McKayla and I raised Maureen in; it was way more space than I needed, but it reminded me of the happiest years of my life, and I wasn't ready to part with it. She squeezed my hand appreciatively and we shared a secret smile.

Nichole changed the subject to something more light-hearted and talked for the rest of the meal. She made a valiant attempt to grab the check away from me, but I swatted at her hands until she acquiesced.

The drive back to the hotel was short.

I found out Nichole only stayed at Marriott properties so she could accumulate and use their rewards points. We were staying at the Residence Inn on Light Street. Even though she was only going to be there a few days, she liked the suite setup and they have valet parking. I wheeled my small suitcase behind me and we went up to her room.

We had carefully avoided any discussion of our relationship so far.

The suite she was staying in had a bedroom that was separated from a small living room and kitchenette. We were staying far enough up that the ever-present sound of sirens couldn't be heard through the thick glass, nor would the catcalls of the prostitutes in the alley behind Peter's wake us in the middle of the night.

It was almost nine o'clock when we got back to her room and I found out that she like True Blood as much as I did, so we settled in. Both of us changed into full top and bottom pajamas. We both liked to see Eric's naked rear end and I found out the only person who actively cheered for someone to punch Sookie in the face more than I did was Nichole.

As the show opened, I found myself propped up against the headboard with Nichole snuggled up beside me. My arm seemed to naturally fall around her. Halfway through, her fingers wrapped around mine. Neither of us spoke, except to sigh disappointedly when someone invariably rescued Sookie Stackhouse from some problem of her own making.

The show ended after giving us a couple of nice shots of Alcide's backside and the promise of more bloodshed in the next week's espisode.

My heart started to race as Nichole turned off the TV. Without a word, we brushed our teeth side by side. I climbed into the queen-size bed as she flipped out the lights.

The soft glow of the street lights shone around the curtains.

I lay flat on my back, Nichole slipped under the covers. One hand brushed my breasts as she draped her arm over me. My nipples crinkled up immediately.

We lay like that for several long minutes. I could hear both of our hearts pounding.

Ever so gently, I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips. She drew in a sharp breath as I suckled on her fingertips.

Her hand brushed my chin and drew my lips to hers. Nichole fell into my open arms, our clothed bodies pressing together.

Those lips. Pouty. Full. Soft.

They tasted so sweet. Our tongues intertwined. I rolled her over so she was laying on top of me.

Our legs seemed to instinctively cross and I pushed my hips against her. She pushed back and my sex started to tingle.

I brushed the hair out of her face. She pulled back. Our eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness. Nichole's hazel eyes seemed to bore right through me.

Desire smoldered in her gaze, although she also seemed hesitant and tentative.

Neither of us spoke.

My hand caressed her cheek. She turned her head just enough to nibble on my palm.

Knowing that I would probably have to make the first move, I pushed her on to her back. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as I took charge.

We kissed again, her eyes closed. She gasped with surprise—and delight—when my hand squeezed one of her ripe breasts.

I made no move to undress her, but we began to explore one another with our hands and our tongues.

My lips ran down from her cheek to her ear to her neck. My teeth raked her collarbone and she let out a low, throaty moan.

"What can I do to you?" she whispered. "I've never—"

"Shhhhhhhh," I purred into her ear. "Don't speak. Do what comes naturally."

This may have been Nichole's first time with a women, but she was a quick learner and a very good kisser.

Her hands ran over my body. Up and down my back. Across my shoulders. She palmed the cheeks of my ass and pulled my hips to hers. Our breasts mashed together.

Nichole's teeth gently bit into the soft underside of my neck when her fingers found their way under my pajama top, leaving a trail of goosebumps across my back.

I bit my lip and stifled a scream when her hands maneuvered to my front and she cupped my breasts. She rolled my nipples between her fingertips. She was a natural!

It became a contest between us to see who could get the other topless first. Mind you, there were no losers, even though it was my tits out in the cold air before hers.

Neither of us are very large in the chest, but that meant neither of us had a lot of flop or sag. In fact, for two forty-something year-old moms, I'd say we were pretty fucking hawt.

I sat back, my hips straddling hers. Our eyes devoured one another. While not as big or nice as McKayla's, Nichole's breasts were still perky and only sank a little to the sides. When I was younger, I often wondered why guys liked boobs. Then I put my hands on my wife's, and I realised that they are pretty damn awesome.

Leaning over, I kissed my lover a little hungrier this time. I pressed my chest forward and her mouth sucked one of my nipples right in.

Maybe it was because I hadn't been with anyone for over six years—actually it was probably closer to six and a half, since after McKayla started treatments for her second bout with cancer, sex was the furthest thing from our minds—but I almost creamed my panties right there.

My hands went to her breasts and I began to knead them gently.

I straightened my legs so I was laying on top of her. I resisted the urge to shed my flannel pajama bottoms.

Neither of us seemed to be in any kind of rush, which was good. I savoured each pass. Each caress.

Nichole cried out when I went to work on her breasts, my teeth raking her skin. The chiseled points of her nipples hardened in my mouth and she reflexively began to grind her hips against me.

We dry-humped a little harder, and my toes began to tingle.

"Yesssss," she moaned when I bit gently on her earlobe.

I lost myself in the moment as Nichole and I held one another. I didn't think. I didn't worry. All I did was react. I let my id fully take control.

Her touch was so soft. So gentle.

Our bodies fell into an easy rhythm. The only sounds in the room were our shortened breaths.

With each pass, my covered mound pressed against Nichole's just a little harder. A little faster.

She gave up fondling my breasts and instead grasped me by my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.

All the while, my lips never left her body. If they weren't nibbling on her neck or tugging on her ear or bathing her breasts with soft kisses, they were pressed against hers.

When her legs began to tremble, I knew she was close. Her skin was flush and warm.

"Oh, Amberle," she whispered, and threw he head back into the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her jaw clenched in ecstasy.

I leaned in and gave her one last hard, desperate kiss just as her body went limp. I collapsed into her arms and felt another woman against my bare skin for the first time in half a dozen years.

When I awoke the next morning, I was on my back. Nichole's head lay on my shoulder, her breath soft and regular and warm.

I kissed her forehead and she purred in her sleep.

What surprised me when I first woke up was that I had no regrets. What didn't surprise me was how much I had missed this feeling.

The alarm went off a few minutes later. Nichole stirred in my arms.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I whispered.

"I don't want to get up," she said softly.

My lips pressed to hers. "I'll be here when you get back."

"I'll hold you to that," Nichole slipped out of the bed and she went in to the shower. When she came out, I lay in the bed, watching her dress. Admiring her confidence and beauty. She gathered her things and headed out to her day of meetings.

On her way to the door, she paused only long enough to lean over and kiss me. One hand slipped under the covers and she squeezed my bare breast. I bit her lip and our tongues pressed together. Her hand went down to my waist and she tugged at my pajama bottoms. "Make sure these are gone when I get back."