The Heart Shaped Neighbor

She came back after the conference and we picked up our friendship where we left off; there was an occasional touch or brush that went beyond friendship and a quizzical look that I couldn't read, but we worked and played together as we had the five years before. When I was near her, her perfume called forth an animal response and distracted me from her academic commentary on my dissertation. We went to our favorite haunts and I felt a new pride being with her.

It was another Wednesday about three weeks after the drive in; she came home shortly after dark from her late class as usual and phoned me. "Hey Charlie, I need your help."

"Name it. What's broken now?"

"Nothing's broken, thank you. You've been an angel to help me keep this house together, Mr. Fix-it. No, the girls have been talking about another movie and I want to check it out."

"I'm free. Where are we going?"

"To theMagic Boxtheater."

I spat the coffee I was sipping. "Why on God's green earth do you want to go there? That's an adult theater."

"There's a movie calledDebbie Does Dallas. Some of the girls have been whispering about it when they thought I wasn't listening; I think they've been sneaking down there to see it when the frat rats weren't out to play."

"I see. And being the sophisticated, 'cool' prof you are, you have to see what they're talking about so you can relate with them better. Don't blame you for wanting company: it's a rough neighborhood and you shouldn't be going down there alone."

"You all right going to see a dirty movie with an old woman?"

"No, but I'll go just about anywhere with you. Be there in five, and wear your grubbiest sneakers and sweats. Those places are indescribably grimy."

The place was an old grand theater from the glory days; the current owners had transformed part of it into an adult bookstore. The floor was sticky, uneven, cracked grey linoleum, and when Charlene's eyes met mine, I gave her my "I told you so" look. We paid for the tickets to a huge, bearded, redheaded man with coke bottle glasses, pimples, a pocket protector and a vague permanent leer. I am gratified when I see someone big enough to make me feel physically tiny. We settled in about three quarters of the way to the back toward the end of the aisle; I wanted to exit easily whenever her curiosity was satisfied. I sat on the aisle so anyone coming in would be discouraged from locating near us. Three other scruffy figures occupied the theater wearing trenchcoats that looked slept in, sitting about as far apart from us and each other as possible.

The movie wasn't the great crashing bore I expected: the plot was silly enough to keep me interested. I'd seen a lot of stag films on the cheap projector at the frat house in college, so the sex wasn't a huge turn on, but Charlene seemed entranced by it. After a half hour I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Well, is this what you expected?"

She whispered back, "I didn't know what to expect. I've never seen a movie like this before."

"Really?"

"Really. I grew up in a sheltered environment, and movies like this used to be illegal." Her eyes stayed glued to the screen and she snuggled back into my chest, putting her hand on my thigh. Nowmyattention was fully engaged. A glance around the theater told me the other guys were focused on the movie as well and slight, low rustling and muttering assured me that they were off in their own little worlds. I began softly groping Charlene with gentle circles on her torso and legs. She purred and responded with more hearty attention to my body. The movie wasn't turning me on but she was. A scene arrived where Debbie prepared to fellatiate yet another man; Charlene pulled my waistband down to get better access to the same part, but I stopped her. She looked up incredulously and I leaned over to whisper in her ear: "Let's take this home where we can give this the respect and comfort it deserves. We'renotin college." She slowed down and leaned back; we watched the rest of the movie.

When we got home, I led her to my bedroom by the hand. She followed me tentatively and silently, as if we were sneaking into a dorm room or to a back bedroom away from parents. Pulling back the sheets of the bed, I turned, cupped her face and looked deeply into her frightened eyes. "Don't be afraid," I whispered, "I've been dreaming of this." A long, slow kiss grew warmer, deeper, more intense, and we unwrapped each other as we kissed fervently. I bore her down onto the bed and began exploring her with my tongue from top to bottom. Observing which notes had most resonance, I worked my way around her floppy breasts, across her huge nipples, up her round belly to the navel, down the outside of her thighs all the way to her feet, where I took a red nailed big toe into my mouth for a few moments.

Coming back up the inside of her leg, I reached the honeycomb I'd sampled a couple of weeks earlier; she massaged my ears and cooed, "Oh, dear, I'll give you a year or two to stop that." Her moaning accelerated and deepened as the moment the Chinese call "Clouds and Rain" approached: I sped up to help her reach it. Her love song was a high vocalize that soared and dipped from wall to wall as it swam around the room in tight circles. I kissed and licked her thighs as she descended from the mountaintop; when I looked up at last our eyes locked.

She pulled me to lie on the bed next to her and prepared to return the favor, keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time. I was anxious for her, yet after a few magic moments of oral bliss I beckoned her to lay back again. "I haven't deflowered you properly yet. Let us make The Beast with Two Backs, as our friend Will S. would put it." Her embrace was strong and the velvet vise that gripped me insistently as we did the horizontal mattress dance. Twenty minutes later I was ready to change positions: being out of shape has its drawbacks. I lay back down and urged her, "Hop up in the saddle; it's your turn on top." A quizzical look arched her eyebrows, but at my insistence she pulled herself up and impaled herself. It took a few moments for her to settle in, her eyes timid at first, but she relaxed and savored the contact. I returned my attention to the nipples that floated close to my hands and eventually our moments of Clouds and Rain were separated as thunder from lightning ten miles distant. She lay beside me and I held her closely, ignoring the drenched sheets.

"Aaaahhhhh, I'm no good for you, Charlie," she said at last. "You can do better than a dumpy old bat like me. I'm old enough to be your mother."

"I disagree. I can't fathom what a wise, serene, regal woman like you can find in a young bum like myself. I'm not in your league; you deserve an English Lord or a international celebrity like Cary Grant or Maurice Chevalier."

She chuckled. "Okay, we don't deserve each other. What's going on here?"

"I thought that was obvious. We care for each other and we're exploring how far that goes. It's been wonderful so far, and I'd like to spend some more time with you."

She had the doe in the headlights look again. "You deserve someone younger, someone you can start a family with. You're just getting started with your life; I'm over the hill."

"Well, if you're over the hill now, you would have killed me in your prime. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and right now I'm looking a the most beautiful woman I've ever known"

There was little light in the room, but I felt the warmth of the blush in her cheeks. She whispered shyly: "I've always loved you; always dreamed about you. Always wondered what it would be like to be in your arms, to make love with you. It's not right, but I've wanted you all for myself ever since I met you."

"And you finally starting setting me up this fall."

"Well, that first night I didn't expect go as far as it did, and I didn't expect tonight to go this far, but I've been looking for chances to get my hands on you for a while."

I chuckled. "I finally figured that out just now. But why the subterfuge? We've seen each other pretty regularly since I moved in here; we've been together in all kinds of situations."

Her eyes became frightened again. "I was afraid that you would reject me. I was so embarrassed: here I am old enough to be your mother and all I wanted to do is throw my body at you. Didn't want to ruin our friendship. Those nights I went over the line, I would feel so guilty afterward I swore to myself that I would never do that again, and then after a few weeks all I could think of was how to get you where I could do it to you again. I tried to put everything into our friendship and tell myself that it was enough, but it hasn't worked."

"Don't feel guilty, don't ever feel guilty. I never could believe you could ever be interested in a slob like me. I'm not John Travolta or even John Belushi. My career is just taking off, but it was pretty shaky till now. I'm still a nobody."

She kissed me fiercely for several long moments, swirling her tongue in duet with mine, before breaking, "You are definitely somebody; any girl would be lucky to end up with someone like you."

"I've become a bit of a hermit; I cherish my time alone. Don't like cruising the bars and the women my age and younger are so shallow. Always been afraid of someone taking over my life; I put up with enough of that from my mother. The passion with girlfriends was fine, I just couldn't manage the everyday stuff."

"You do fine with everyday stuff. Don't you want children?"

"I thought I did, but know I don't think so. I'm not ready to give what it takes; I may never be. The most important thing about a relationship is the woman: that's the one who matters."

"I wish you were twenty years older. Or I was twenty years younger."

I stroked her cheek and traced the line of her chin. "I don't wish you were any younger. You are a fine wine and I'm intoxicated with all the fine aging and subtle aroma. And I'm as old as I could be right now." I kissed her. "I don't want to monopolize your life and I don't think you want to monopolize mine. Let's just ride this while we can and take one day at a time. No matter what happens, we're still best friends."

She beamed at me. "All right."

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

The next week, the week of Thanksgiving, was suitably bizarre. Classes were a joke since the kids were already halfway home in spirit, and my brief journey to the ancestral seat on Thanksgiving day was a festival of soggy dogs, clamorous little niecelings, snitty sisters, smothering mother and distant father. I made an excuse to leave early and got home just as Charlene was pulling into her drive. I called over, "Fancy a nightcap?"

"Sure, come on down, your price is right."

I went straight over in my jacket, white shirt and dark slacks and found her bustling Tanqueray, tonic, lime wedges, ice and glasses onto the kitchen table. She had on a pink floral blouse, a lovely heart shaped pendant on a golden chain, blue slacks and flats; my heart skipped a beat as she drew near and her perfume wakened the monster below. Giving me a long, slow kiss, she said as she started mixing drinks, "How was your family gathering?"

"Same shit, different year. I just noticed that I'm getting to be more and more like Father; he hid from the clatter as much as he could and I bugged out the first opportunity. Not that he and I have had much to talk about since I was eleven; I don't think he's ever gotten over the fact that I'll never be a farmer who gets excited about All Star Wrestling like him. The women in my family have never learned to cook and dinner was almost inedible. There were a couple of mezzo piano congratulations on the best selling book; I doubt any of them have read it even though I had copies sent to them. There were a lot of loud questions about my dating prospects."

"Did you say anything? About us?"

"Not yet. I have almost nothing in common with them and I could care less what they think. Wouldn't mind an excuse to skip the entire circus next year."

"Mine wasn't much better. I'm a lot older than my sisters; it's like we grew up in different families and we live in different worlds. We met at the best restaurant close to the old hometown that's open, and it was a zoo. My niece Morgan is an over aggressive, hyperactive seven year old tomboy that drives my sister Andrea crazy and Andrea's still having a time coping with widowhood after four years. Lucille is still a judgmental bitch and Jessica will do anything to keep the peace and not to rock the boat. I wouldn't mind seeing more of Jessie, but she doesn't live anywhere near here. Lucille and Jessica's husbands just sat there silently and endured. Driving past the old homestead doesn't mean much anymore; things just crumble and fall apart a little more each year. My daughter Dora hit me with a bombshell: she's pregnant."

"Really? Congratulations, Grandma!"

She tousled my hair. "Thanks, goofball. I'm worried: Dora's as absorbed in business as much as her father was and her husband Harry Morris makes Machiavelli look like an angel. God, Harry looked as if he were cock of the walk when Dora made the annoucement. If their child isn't the anti-Christ, the kid's likely to grow up all alone."

I gave her a big hug. "Hey, genes skip generations. The kid could turn out like you. I've heard that children and grandparents are natural allies: you'll have your chance to influence the little one and you know what you did wrong last time. It's the least you could do to get back at Dora."

She laughed and trembled in my arms for several long moments. "What am I going to do with you? You're not going to enjoy sleeping with a grandmother very much."

"I'll let you know." I started to unbutton her blouse and push it aside, kissing her chest as it was revealed.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you feel less like a grandmother. The drinks can wait; after this week's whirlwind, I can't. I've always wondered what was so romantic about making love on the kitchen floor."

A twinkle in her eyes was all the encouragement I needed. The ice in the drinks were completely melted by the time we got to them.

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

December was its usual chaos of cluttered schedules, but I found a new wellspring of energy. Charlene took on a glow that I'd never seen before and made me a little more smug than I should have been. We spent a few moments together each day and one night together each week, but respected each other's space. There was the roller coaster of approaching finals and the growing lines of students needing last minute assistance; work on the dissertation flagged but I knew that I'd get back to it after Christmas. An event I long dreaded was approaching: the formal University English Department Christmas party at the clubhouse of the University Golf course. I'd gone stag the first four years of my employment at the University, but a wild idea took me two days before it happened. I dropped by Charlene's office and waited the students out to see her. She shut the door behind me and welcomed me passionately. "What can I do for you, big boy?" she asked in her best Mae West voice.

"I had a wicked idea. Are you busy Saturday night?"

"No, I don't have any plans."

"How about doing me a favor?"

She started groping me and snuggling close. "Mmmmm. Like what?"

"Keep me company at the department Christmas party."

She disengaged and frowned. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"What if people think we're a couple?" she asked with anxious eyes.

I rolled my eyes and grinned mischievously. "They'd be right, but they probably won't go that far. They'll probably think I'm out of the closet at last and I'm bringing you as a cover."

She hit me on the arm. "Thanks a lot; being seen with me could make people think you're gay. I could tell them otherwise."

"Go ahead. So you'll come?"

"Is this the golf club party? The one that always bores you to tears every year?"

"Yes. But it's a chance to play dress up, there's tons free food and free booze and with you there I may actually want to stick around enough to see the department head do some of the crazy things I've heard about."

"Well, they know me, too. Those folks have nasty to me for decades. It could be awkward."

"Not if you don't care what those trolls think; I could care less. There's only one person that's going to have my full attention and the rest of them can go hang themselves. If we behave somewhat, they can be embarrassed about their behavior."

"All right. It might be fun in some weird way. I'll get dolled up for you, dear."

Two nights later I rented a limo to take us there and back. It was a crisp night with low clouds promising snow. The cars half filled the parking lot: the gathering was held in one of the smaller gathering rooms of the club. I put on my best blue suit with white shirt and diagonally striped tie, Charlene wore a red silk dress with a moderate cleavage and pumps: I thought she looked stunning and had to talk myself out of raping her in the back seat of the limo en route. The heart shaped pendant was around her neck again; I had seen it more and more lately. The coat check took her wrap and we sauntered into the room. It was the usual crowd: between professors, associate professors, assistant professors, instructors and teaching assistants we had a department of 35, and the escorts/significant others doubled that number. Dr. Royce Friedman, the department head was greeting people at the door with his assistant, Tom Wherling, next to him. Royce bubbled at us from a state of extreme inebriation: "Charles, so good to see you. Congratulations on your bestseller, I'm green with envy. It's wonderful to have another rising star in our department. And Dr. Thompson, what an unexpected pleasure. You look radiant this evening. Welcome to our little gathering."

"Thank you, Royce. It's nice to be here."

Tom gave me a slight little sneer and turned to Charlene. "So good to see you this evening, Charlene. I take it you had nothing better to do this evening?"

Charlene batted her eyes prettily: "I just couldn't resist the opportunity to spend the evening with a handsome young man,n'cest pas? Surelyyouwould understand that, Thomas."

Tom managed to turn a gulp into a harrump. "Yes, of course. Well, Charles, I see the book has slipped a little on the New York Times list."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I'm just happy it's been there at all. It's been up there for twelve weeks and so many authors never make it." Tom turned hastily to greet the next guest and we scuttled off to fetch drinks.

We made the initial circuit of the room; my colleagues gave me strange glances as I presented Charlene to them and I thought at least three pairs of eyes were going to wear themselves out darting between us. Charlene was as composed as the Queen of England: gracious, witty and charming in the face of the bewilderment she encountered. We came to two empty chairs toward the edge of room next to a small table, perching our drinks and snack plates there.

"This is really great," Charlene whispered in my ear. "They don't know what to make of me being here. For decades they've looked down their noses at my three member department at the college even though I've published more than all of them put together.Schadenfreudeisn't very virtuous, but it's sure a lot of fun."

I kissed her warmly on the cheek and rested my hand on her knee for a moment. She kept looking around and whispered, "You bad boy, now you've really scrambled their signals."

"You know, I love you." Our little part of the room stopped.

She turned to look at me. Her lip quivered into a slight frown for a moment while her eyes questioned, but I remained firm in my adoration. Then the clouds parted from her brow to reveal a huge smile that couldn't be pried off her face with a crowbar. I stumbled on: "I love you, and I don't care who knows it, how it looks or what others may think. All that matters is you."