Dis-Tance

It was one of those June days that put lead in your pencil. The clear blue of the sky suffused the air with sunshine and the new, healthy scent of spring. Only once in awhile did a passing woman flit by close enough to leave a whiff of her essence, as the copious visual images of the dashing ladies pretty much overwhelmed the sensorium!

Jerry was enjoying the afternoon when, ironically enough, the sight of a rather formidable woman walking in front of him took his breath away. Her proportions alone could easily have done that; her tight skirt wrapped around thick ankles and shapely calves stemming from her four inch heels, topped off by a smooth and generous curve, her shoulder length hair blowing about in the occasional breeze. But it was something more than that, or the fact that Jerry recognized the woman's sharply low cut blouse...from the back! He knew the top that he had once purchased for his wife, (although she would never wear it for him) would allow her rather ample breasts, pressed together, to combine in an outrageously prominent cleavage. And that was what apparently was happening now, in front of him, attracting all approaching eyes and gentlemanly stares, as well as what he imagined were budding erections. It was more than all that! Jerry realized the woman was, indeed, his long ago separated wife. And she wasn't alone.

Her companion had his arm around her, casually resting on the top of Loren's rump and she didn't seem to mind...in fact, at one painful point (for Jerry) she even placed her hand on his and pushed it lower.

They walked about a half block to turn into a small cafe where, on entering, Loren's friend seemed to lodge his finger to the right and some four to five inches below the center of her buttocks shamelessly cupping the woman beneath her crotch. She quickly, conspiratorially, pushed his hand away as she alighted into the coffee shop, stumbling over the threshold, and affecting a hobbling limp to the nearest table.

What Jerry could make out through the window some moments later, was a waitress carrying a bowl of ice and a small towel to where Loren had seated herself; her friend placing some of the ice in the towel kneeling in front of Loren who appeared to be feigning some discomfort, if not pain. Jerry didn't recall her tripping or twisting her ankle...but the limping and unsteady gait had apparently begun with her first steps inside the shop!

When the waitress turned, leaving the ice and towel, Loren pursed her lips at her beau and sent a surreptitious smile his way as he removed her shoe.

The few patrons at nearby tables watched while Loren's friend massaged her stockinged foot, as they both seemed to suggest removing the stocking so the ice could be applied. Loren hitched up what little of her skirt she needed to, revealing the top of her stocking so her kneeling gentleman could, very slowly and carefully, roll Loren's leg wear down...and off her foot as she affected little grimaces of pain. Jerry could hardly believe what he was seeing...but was not surprised...and suddenly recognized Loren's friend!

As he contemplated the man's identity and the provenance of Loren's relationship with him (what little he knew of it) one of the coffee shop's patrons approached the new icing and massaging customers. Apparently the man identified himself as a doctor of sorts and appeared to be dispensing some medical advice which the grimacing Loren seemed all to anxious to comply with as she obediently extended her leg to the man. He too knelt before her, took her ankle in hand, and proceeded to instruct Loren and her, now, by-standing friend on orthopedic procedure in treating sprains and not much else, since there appeared to be no swelling or discoloration.

After a few memorable moments for all, handling the ankle in question and then following up with some lower leg caressing, rubbing, and an occasional squeeze, the man, broadly asmile, gave Loren's leg over to her beau and retired. A very short time later, after ordering some token coffee and pie, the pair thanked all concerned, Loren hobbling back on to the street.

Just before she took that final step off onto the street Jerry reflected on her companion. He was the stranger sitting next to Loren in the darkened movie house, that fateful evening; the man whom she had asked to help her on with her shoes. It was he who had accommodated her and who had followed her out as the two of them disappeared leaving Jerry behind.

As the pair left the cafe Jerry took a few steps back into the shadows and mused over Loren. He couldn't help it. How sultry she was. How mesmerizing was the woman's perfect shape as she outlined her space. She was daunting and he couldn't take his eyes from her.

Suddenly, not two steps from him, she turned around and directly to his face loudly said, "are you following me?"

Jerry was stunned. He reflexively stammered "no... I..."

"Stop following me," she added, showing no recognition at all as to who Jerry was. Her friend stood by, saying nothing.

"It's me, Loren. I'm not following you. What's the matter with you?"

She was turning around as he spoke...then turned back to face him once again as his last sentence petered out. "I'm serious," she snapped, "If you continue to follow me I'll call the police!"

The color drained from Jerry's face as he stood immobile. Then as Loren moved a few steps from him, he said "I like your shoes, Loren." She may have heard him... She didn't turn around.

Jerry didn't dare to move but watched as the couple headed down the avenue towards the little park some two blocks away.

How could he have been so smitten by this woman? She was so exciting! He remembered how exotic she seemed to him. She paralyzed his reason, commandeered his intellect and his will. He recalled how Loren dared him, then tugged him, into a vacant women's restroom. How she led him into a stall then let him watch her, commanded him to stand there and watch her, as she urinated, spread legged, on the toilet!

What a crazy woman. But he loved her... and now he lived in the pain with which she had paved and then, coldly, abandoned their relationship. And as he watched Loren and her gentleman friend disappear toward the little park he had a good idea where they were going. In fact, he knew!

Jerry peered down the avenue they had taken...crossing east to the little park. Loren would lead her friend through the scrub and a copse of bushes into a thicket, just barely but within public sight...if you looked hard enough. There she would squat, lift her skirt, and urinate in his presence, ordering him to remove her one soiled stocking and clean her.

The clear blue of the sky suffused the air with sunshine and the new, healthy scent of spring. It was one of those June days...that put lead in your pencil.

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