Edna Mayfield

"Yup," she replied with a bubble of laughter lurking just under the surface of her voice.

"This must be some kind of weird for you," he said.

"Took some gettin' used to, that's for sure. But I did some checkin' up on you while I was away. You'll do."

He turned to look at Edna Mayfield and smiled. "I'm glad," he said. "Honored, really."

"Well, OK. Let's do dinner," she said.

"All right. Your choice, Taco Bell or Burger King."

She laughed gayly. "You drive, I'll navigate." It was a challenge, a dare.

Across town they pulled into a curbside service drive-in hamburger stand, one of the few remaining postwar originals, she said. "Best goddamn rings west of the Rockies, too," she continued. The carhop returned a few minutes later and placed a trey heaped with burgers, onion rings, and drinks on the partially rolled up window. They talked about school, his classes, the students flirting with the professors, all the while happy as they dug into the burgers. They laughed at stupid agency tales and legends, moaned about the folly of politicians. They were relaxed with each other.

"I haven't been here in ages," Edna Mayfield said. "This place was here when Stan and I were first dating. Tastes like they haven't changed the grease in the fryer since then."

"Yeah, but the chocolate malt is good. Shoulda got one."

"Next month, ok?"

"Have to wait a month?"

"You can find your way."

"I meant with you."

"Jordan, I appreciate it, I really do, but I'm old enough to be your mother."

"I plead ulterior motives. I just wanted to be seen driving around with the prettiest girl in town."

Edna Mayfield reached over and took Jordan Douglas' hand in hers. "That's very sweet, Jordan. But I...I'm just not ...I'm too old for that kind of foolishness." Open conflict seemed to dance across Edna Mayfield's characteristically unreadable mein.

"Told ya, Mrs Mayfield, I'm not much on conventions."

Edna Mayfield sat back in the seat and reclined it back almost as far as it would go and looked out the car into the deep blue sky above. "Such a beautiful evening," she whispered. "I miss him so much. Hated to see him reduced to such frailty. You just can't imagine."

"Yes I can, Edna," he whispered back.

She turned to him and looked at him expectantly, willing him to continue. "We were stationed in Equador, my wife and I. I was seconded as commercial attache, she worked for State. Leftist guerillas hit a diplomatic convoy headed to the airport to pick up SecState in '86, she was killed."

Edna Mayfield remembered the incident. Remembered Emily Douglas and the baby she had carried, the outrage at Headquarters. And suddenly she recalled Jordan Douglas, and his ancient grief spread over tabloids and network newscasts.

"We were so young," he said wistfully.

'And I am so old,' echoed around the tortured memories of Edna Mayfield's past, and through the walls she had erected to keep them at bey.

They sat in silence, awash in their respective anguish. Storm clouds gathered over the distant mountains, and moved down the valley toward the city.

Part IV

October 21st

Jordan Douglas sat on the patio off the east side of his room watching the evening overtake the valley below. He was re-reading, or at least bolding trying to reread, Oswald Spengler's Decline of the West, preparing for a lecture on Social Darwinism. He had been busy with classes, and was considering the college's offer of a tenure-track position in the wake of Olin Tomlinson's recently announced retirement. Too, he had been looking after the main house, as Edna Mayfield had abruptly departed a few days after their brief evening out, gone to Norway to visit relatives, she had said. Edna Mayfield had given him the keys and the codes, hopped into a taxi, and been gone in a heartbeat.

In today's mail there had been a letter from Norway, and he had set it aside for a time when distractions would be few. He now set aside Mr Spengler's brooding tome and took up the letter he assumed was from Edna Mayfield. He carefully knifed the letter open and carefully set the envelope on the table by his side.

He took in the handwriting on the page, its elegant, finished form awash I subtle femininity. He read Edna Mayfield's pleasantries and banal descriptions of ancient stave churches and crystal-hued waterfalls diving through autumn foliage to the ice-blue waters of deep fjords. He flipped to the next page.

The words written on this page were by someone in deep emotional conflict, the handwriting on the surface the same elegant script, but the words no longer reflecting the wanderings of a tourist. Edna Mayfield now described the wanderings of her heart through the landscapes of her husband's life and death, the triumphs and the betrayals of their careers in public service. She described the enduring love she had for her husband, for their children. She threw into the light of day Jordan's oblique reference to some form of tryst with her, and here Jordan Douglas sat up bolt upright in his chair, for she did not dismiss the idea. She mentioned her need to protect the memories of her marriage from meaningless diversions, the feelings of her children and their certain sense of betrayal should their mother carry-on a disreputable affair, and Jordan Douglas's tenuous standing in the small-town college community of Springdale. But she expressed an affection for him, indeed, a strong attraction to him. Her confidence seemed to build again as she continued, she asked him to think about her words and feelings as he would the words and feelings of a friend.

She closed by adding that she would be home in a few weeks, and to keep himself well until her return. Jordan Douglas set the letter aside and picked up the envelope and noted an early October post mark. He felt light-headed, almost giddy in his adolescent anticipation of Edna Mayfield's return, when he jumped at the sudden knocking on the door below. He flew down the stairs and opened the door to see Edna Mayfield standing before him, silhouetted by the bright lights of a taxi in the driveway.

"Jordan! I'm so glad you're home! I don't suppose you have any small change about, hum? All I have are some traveler's checques and a couple of euros." Jordan walked out to the cabbie and paid him off, picked up Edna Mayfield's bags, and carried them toward the main house.

"Oh, put them down, Jordan! I'm starved!" she said, a sudden smile flashing across her face. Jordan took out his house keys and placed the bags inside the door, and returned to the driveway. As the taxi backed down the driveway he walked back to Edna and took her right hand.

"So, how are you? What would you like to eat?" he said. Edna Mayfield stood looking at Jordan Douglas in the receding light. Her eyes bore into his with feral intensity, she took both of his hands in hers.

"I think you, Jordan Douglas," Edna Mayfield cooed. "I think I'd like to eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." With that she led him back toward the garage, to the stairs that led to his room. She seemed to float up the stairs, leading Jordan in casual flight within the heady glow of this sudden anticipation. He looked at her as she drifted in the currents of her lust, took in the sweet elegance, the restrained sexuality. He was cast adrift by her sage colored suit over bone colored blouse, stockings, and pumps, the random twinkling of her jewelry, the scent of her Chanel. As they reached the deep golden glow of his twilit room, she flipped off the lights, and turned to face Jordan Douglas. Her hands went to this chest, to the buttons on his shirt, and she began to slowly unbutton them, one by one. She pulled at the loose end of his belt, undid the buckle, and exposed the button and fly of his pants. She twisted the button open, and ran her hand down the front of his pants, pressing down on his swelling cock. She pulled the zipper down, let the pants fall down to his ankles, and sent his boxer shorts down in quick pursuit. Still looking deeply into his eyes, she took his cock in her hand and began to pull and slowly jerk it. He took her face in his hands and slowly brought his mouth to hers, gently kissed her waiting lips.

He managed to kick his way out of the pants and boxers bunched around his legs, and he picked Edna Mayfield up and carried her to the sofa that looked out toward the mountains. He gently laid her down, kissed her face. He knelt beside her, his face now above hers, and took one of her hands in his. He spread two of her fingers and ran his tongue around and over them; with his other hand he caressed the insides of her thighs. She sucked in her breath sharply, gave a brief shiver that let him know he was headed in the right direction. As he moved up her legs, he felt the tops of her stockings, the fastenings of her garters. Drawing faint circles with his fingertips he inched his way up her legs. She spread her legs slightly as he came to the apex, and he felt warm, silky moisture spreading as he touched the glass-smooth fabric her panties.

He pulled her around on the sofa until she faced him, and without pause pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them aside. He placed her legs over his shoulders and thrust his face deeply into her groin, his mouth and tongue directly assailing the folds of her vagina. Her back arched up savagely, then fell; there followed several deep spasms that racked her body. Edna Mayfield then grasped Jordan Douglas's face and hair and fiercely ground her sex into his mouth. She pumped his mouth, her head thrashing from side to side with total abandon. Jordan began to drill her clit with his tongue, then alternately suck and lightly bite the folds around her hood. No screams, no savage verbal assault, she simply hit her orgasm thrusting wildly into Jordan Douglas's face. Her body was wracked with deep spasms that sent her upper body flailing, her ankles crossed behind his head, pulling his face ever deeper into her folds. Her orgasm gushed forth with surprising force, filling his mouth with her cum and his saliva.

Her body continued to twitch lightly for several minutes, and gave an occasional spasm when he ran his tongue lightly over her nether folds. He disengaged slowly by kissing and nibbling the insides of her thighs, and pulled back slowly, running his tongue slowly over her stockings on his way to her knees. He sat back for a moment, and took in the total beauty of her form. He took her right leg in his hand, and began kissing his way down her leg toward her ankle. He ran his tongue over the top of her stockinged foot, raking his teeth over the bones of her foot lightly. Holding her foot inside the bone colored pump with his hand, he tongued the side of her foot, then ran his tongue into the space between the side of her shoe and the arch of her foot. He slid his tongue in and out, driving his tongue deeper into the shoe with each thrust, massaging the sole of her foot with his tongue.

The sole of Edna Mayfield's other shoe came to rest on Jordan Douglas's cock, and she began to massage his bare muscle with her shoe. The heel of her pump would occasionally slice into his sack, causing him to jump, but she relentlessly continued her jacking. He threw off the shoe he held in his hand and thrust her forefoot into his mouth, running his tongue over and around her foot in loud liquid arcs. He felt his cock harden, his breathing deepen, sweat break out on his face. Still she jerked his cock with her shoe. He lost all awareness of time and space as his orgasm built, became dimly aware that her mouth and hand had replaced her foot, and that he had found heaven on earth as his orgasm approached.

His stomach muscles contracted violently as the first spasm of his orgasm hit. He felt the first pulse stream into her mouth as the warmth of her tongue rolled over the tip of his cock, and she gave a surprised moan as the warm liquid drove forcefully into the back of her mouth. Three, four more raging streams burst forth from his cock, and he felt her struggling to swallow it all without gagging. She kept up the intense sucking motion on the tip of his cock that had taken him over the edge, and as his orgasm subsided he began to sway in the rhythm of her need. Her head kept bobbing slowly up and down, taking him down gently as she swallowed the last stringy lumps of his cum.

Jordan Douglas fell over backwards, and a laughter born of lust satisfied and joy found slipped from his mouth. She fell into the crook of his arm, looking at his face intently, willing herself not to fall in love with him right here and now. She marveled at the sweat on his chest, the smile on his face, and her ability to still feel such pleasure from a man, to still respond as a woman should respond. But she was most satisfied that she had driven this man into a state of total lust and abandon; that she had responded to his need with total unreserved passion, and that they had been driven to satisfy each other intuitively. She felt complete in a way she had not in years. She rolled her tongue through the echoes of his seed, then rested her chin on his chest, waiting for him to come back to her.

His breathing now simmering, though steady; his pulse dropping from the crystal cannonade of his orgasm, Jordan Douglas propped his head up, and looked into Edna Mayfield's eyes for an eternity. He studied her, wanted to meld into the fabric of her soul. As time and space returned to a semblance normalcy, he became aware that since entering the room they had hardly spoken a word to each other, that their need for each other had on some subliminal level been so total, so complete, that words were either inadequate or unnecessary to the situation.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said, her smile demure.

"I received your letter today, this evening. Actually, I think I was finishing it as you knocked on the door."

"Oh gawd," she moaned and laughed at the same time. "What you would have thought of me if you'd not seen..." she trailed off. She bent her head down and playfully bit his nipple. Jordan winced, then moaned as she continued biting and sucking his chest. After a moment, she broke-off and spoke again. "So, Mr Douglas, do I get my penny's worth?"

"Edna, when I read your letter I felt joy in my heart. From a purely selfish point of view."

"Selfish?" she asked.

"I think I fell in love with you again the moment I saw you, when you were standing in the door waiting for me and Dean Fisher," he started. "Of course I knew who you were the moment the housing people mentioned your name. I was reluctant to get you involved in this trivial nonsense. I couldn't imagine violating your need for privacy, being interrupted by a reminder of Stanton's past."

She didn't blink an eye, she just continued to look at Jordan's face, the weight of loneliness falling from her spirit. "You loved him, too, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suspect I did, perhaps in the way a son loves his father. He seemed a wise soul, careful to avoid the excesses and abuses of power. I think he really believed in this country."

"Wait a minute...you fell in love with me again?"

"Edna, every red-blooded heterosexual male in Washington D.C. was in love with you. I just got with the program and fell in line with everyone else," he said through a boyish grin.

Edna Mayfield felt herself blushing from the bottom of her feet through her face. "Oh, fooey," she said, smirking, trying to hide her face.

"And I think I understand how you must feel about Stanton," he continued as seriousness clouded his eyes. "As I know you understand my feelings for Emily. But all I've thought about since we met, since we sat eating greasy onion rings and chili-burgers, is that life is for the living. I don't think I've thought of much else, really. And yes, though you are fifteen years older than I am, all that means to me is that time is more precious to both of us now. It's not a commodity we can take advantage of. Or waste."

"My, I'm sure getting my penny's worth tonight," Edna Mayfield said, still smiling.

"Sorry you asked?" he replied.

Edna Mayfield took his hand in hers and kissed it, felt a tenderness well up in her soul. She rested her face on the side of his hand, looking at him, still smiling gently at him.

"So," he continued. "Situation seems pretty clear to me. I think, after would just happened here, that you may just be willing to explore your feelings for me," he said, grinning. "And I guess I just made my feelings pretty clear. My feelings are usually pretty transparent," he added.

"Oh, I must have missed this statement of your feelings somewhere along the line," Edna Mayfield said coyly. "Just what are these feelings of yours."

"Why Mrs Mayfield, I've fallen totally in love you."

"Oh, I see," she said in mock seriousness. With that, she reached down and began to comb her fingernails through Jordan's pubic hair, scratch the base of his coiled up penis. She continued to look directly into his eyes as she twirled his cock around. Soon she was stroking it up and down, with her eyes half closed in secret pleasure. Jordan's head fell back to the carpet as a deep moan slipped past his lips. Edna moved down to his cock and took it hungrily into her mouth; with her fingernails poised lightly over his balls, she began to lick his cock, to move her head up and down slowly, taking his still semi-soft cock all the way into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the head, and sucking hard as she drew her head back up the shaft. She felt his toes stretch into a deep point as his cock grew hard in her mouth. Her head began to gyrate on his cock, her fingers tickle his balls, the first pools of pre-cum forming on the head of his cock as she increased her pace.

Presently she stopped and moved up over Jordan's groin into a kneeling position; without hesitating she lowered herself over his now-raging hard-on. With her hand she guided the rock hard member into her still very moist folds, where she rubbed it around and over her burning hole. She eased it in, sat down on it tentatively, grimaced in mild discomfort, and then plunged in to the hilt. Her eyes popped open involuntarily, she gasped with shock as his size struck home, then closed her eyes and slowly began rocking back and forth. She held out her hands, and Jordan Douglas reached out with his. Their outstretched hands met in the space between them, fingertip to fingertip, held apart by dynamic tension, finger seeking finger, soul seeking soul. She suddenly intertwined her fingers in his, forming two fists in the air, and began fucking his cock with more intensity. Her eyes relaxed as she began to accommodate Jordan's cock, soon they closed as she fell into step with primordial rhythms.

Jordan could do little but watch her face with a growing sense of total love in his heart. He matched her thrusts with his, so that they moved with each other, accentuating each other's efforts. He held her hands in his, gave her leverage to grind her clit into his groin. She appeared to be in no hurry, indeed seemed to slow down as soon as she reached a certain point in the cascade that would lead to her orgasm. His eyes would linger on hers for a moment, then move down her still clothed body, taking in the perfection of her cleavage, her trim waist, the smooth white skin of her upper thighs as they flexed to engulf his cock. Her fingers tightened, her pace increased gradually and then into a furious pace as she fell into her orgasm. He felt her juices flowing out onto his cock; as in instant harmony he suddenly felt his orgasm build out of nowhere and explode into her womb. He cried out in surprise, his body began to curl as the sudden intensity of his orgasm engulfed him.

"Oh my God. Oh I love you I love you," he called. "Oh my God, my God." His body continued to shake as his orgasm began to peak and ebb. He looked up to see Edna Mayfield leaning close to his face, her hands now on either side of his head. She was still thrusting, though as in slow motion, moving fractionally up his cock millimeter by millimeter to the tip, then just as slowly back down to the base of his cock. Over and over. There was on her face a look of mischievous enjoyment. Her lips were parted, her tongue just visible as it seductively invited entry into the secret pleasures within. She held onto the slow rhythm of her dyschronic thrusts, rising slowly, falling slowly. He was amazed after a few minutes of this to feel his penis responding. The electric vibrations emanating from his cock were unmistakable.