Desire Stirring

He can always make her laugh, even at intimate moments like this. "Yes, you have a point." She reaches to her waist and unsnaps her wool slacks, then steps out of them.

"I know, now me," he says with an ironic grin.

"Quid pro quo."

"I'll be the quid to your pro," he offers.

"Sounds reasonable, although you can reverse it if you'd like."

That gets HIM laughing, standing there, chuckling in his boxer shorts. "I love women with a sense of the absurd."

"And I love men who love women with a sense of the absurd."

They stand in the dark, holding and fondling each other, alternatively smooching and giggling. Then he gets serious, or at least semi-serious. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I've had my eyes on you since you were that long, pig-tailed cutie I remember just starting middle school. Bet you didn't notice me noticing you at those family get-togethers."

Eyelevel with his sternum, she's again playing with his chest. "No, I didn't. You must have been very discreet."

He runs a finger down her Streisandesque nose. "Either that, or you were too preoccupied to notice."

"I notice now, that's all that counts."

"Indeed. And by the way, you're still a cutie."

"And you're a wonderful man who's driving me crazy with desire."

"Shannon, you have a knack for saying all the right things. Follow me."

She does, into his bed to cuddle under sheets and a thick blanket. On her back with Roy laying diagonally across her, Shannon surrenders to his warm, passionate kisses She feels his bulging erection against her hip. She also feels her juices flowing from between her legs, soaking her panties and ramping up her desire to the point where she couldn't stop, even if she wanted to. She never thought she'd go this far with another man this soon. Yet here she is, peeling off her blue lace panties and grinning at the sight of Roy tossing his nautical-themed boxer shorts across the room. "Anchors and ships on your underwear?"

"I own a sailboat," he reveals.

"Will you take me sailing sometime?"

"Would love to. This spring."

She lets visions of sailing on the bay linger while still on her back, as he licks her nipples and brushes his full erection against her thigh. Soon, though, said visions fade into the ether, while the reality of what's happening here and now takes center stage. She's on the verge of making love, something she hasn't done in close to three years, and with a man not her husband in more years than she can count. In fact, there had been only one other man before Dave that shared her bed, and it took a while before she let that happen. This is a first of sorts, her getting intimate with a man so soon, a man she knew for years, yet had been oblivious to his admiring glances.

"Oh, my," she gasps as he enters her.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, it's just that it's been a long hiatus."

"Gotcha."

"You certainly do, Roy, you got me good."

"We got each other."

"Beautifully put," she says.

He tucks one of his large hands under her tight butt. "You've got a beautiful derriere. You know that?"

She chuckles. "No, but I'll take your word for it."

When he lifts it slightly to gain more leverage, she cries out her approval, expressed in oos and ahs. "You like that, huh?"

"I, I love that," she gasps. That, and other things, like the way he kisses her from belly to lips, the way he adjusts his rhythm to hers and the way he's able to hold out long enough to pleasure her in the way that Dave had wanted to and tried but never quite did.

She also loves the way Roy holds her after they both climax, the secure feeling of his big body against hers and his loving words, words full of hope and optimism. "What I thought was another winter of discontent," she says, "is turning out to be a winter of joy."

"Our spring should be even better," he avers. "I look forward to us sailing together."

"Sailing off into the sunset?"

"Sailing off to Saint Michaels. Bermuda maybe." Pause. "I hope you don't think I'm getting too far afield."

"Not at all. I look forward to spending a lot more time with you." She snuggles against his chest, her head resting just under his chin, her mouth spread into a warm smile of sweet contentment. "Bermuda, really? Can't wait."

*****

Within weeks, it's obvious that the virus which wasn't supposed to spread to the USA, has spread with a vengeance. In mid-February, doctor Fauci revises his earlier sanguine prognosis, warning Americans that they have a serious pandemic on their hands. People are getting infected, people are dying. By late March, the terms 'social distancing' and 'shelter in place' become stamped upon the American lexicon.

April comes, and Roy finds himself quoting from T.S. Eliot's poem, The Waste Land: "April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire stirring..."

He's seeing patients for emergencies only, the rest through video conferencing. Not Shannon, whose job requires her to be on site full time. Her hospital is crowded with the influx of Covid-19 patients, kept isolated from the other patients. Shannon wears protective gear and so far, she's been lucky; tests confirm that she's still healthy. That's the good news. The bad news is that she and Roy, to be safe, decide to stay apart. Jean and extended family look after Merl and Natalie while their mom works. Even Roy chips in, giving them rudimentary science lessons because schools remain closed. The girls have warmed to him, now accept him because they can see the positive difference he's made in their mom's life. They remember how sad she was for months after their dad died. "He makes you laugh, mommy," they say. "You're happy again."

She's less than happy these days, seeing patients die and being apart from Roy. She struggles to stay hopeful that she and Roy will once again be together before too long. They do facetime at night after her girls are sound asleep. This is no ordinary facetime. This is full frontal nudity facetime. Virtual sex facetime. A tease, yes. Ultimately frustrating, yes. Desire stirring indeed. But it's the best they can do for now.

Tonight, she feels overwhelmed—overwhelmed with the suffering she sees around her every day, with the nation's suffering, and with Roy's physical absence in her life. She breaks down on the phone. Choking back sobs, she says, "I hate this virus so much and love you so much."

Roy, feeling his own tears coming on, tries to comfort her. "I love you too, baby. We might have lost our spring, but I'm looking forward to summer, catching the westerly breezes all the way to Bermuda. Come hell or high water, we are going to take that sailing trip."

She wipes her eyes. "Damn right we are." In truth, seeing the cases and deaths rise, she's not so sure. But his optimistic forecast makes her feel better just the same.