Esther's Story

Esther felt her resolve drain from her body at his words, at the pleading look in the depths of his blue-grey eyes. She did not have the strength to argue, the fight fleeing her, leaving a bone deep tiredness in its wake. She simply nodded.

CHAPTER THREE

Esther woke once more to bright light streaming through the sheers. This dawn of another day practically blinded her. Rest had been elusive last night. The erotic fantasies that had kept the darkness at bay on his first night were laced this time with other dreams. Nightmares of smoke and fire, loud moans renting the heat.

She supposed it was the reminder of Tommy that the Sergeant had used to bully her into eating. But whatever the cause, the intimacy that they had shared on the porch and while they worked was broken. Oh, they continued to work and talk, but it was not the same.

After they had eaten last night, the Sergeant had washed and dried the dishes while Esther worked on the Marshmallow treats. They chatted, planned the work for the coming day. It would be the last chance they had to get most of the work done. Monday was Halloween and Esther would be at work all day. She would barely have time to come home and change before the Trick-or-Treaters began to arrive.

The haunted house needed decorating; the other ornaments needed to be hung up about the porch and yard, there were cookies to bake and goodie bags to assemble. Esther wondered how she would get it all done, even with the Sergeant's help.

She was double checking her mental to-do list as she reached for her robe that lay at the foot of the bed. Her hands froze in mid-air when she heard a soft knock on the half open bedroom door.

"Good morning, Sergeant," she blushed. She knew how bad she must look to the man. Her eyes red and swollen, dark circles beneath them. The long curls that were her crowning glory and proudest statement of her mixed heritage would be nothing more than a tangled mess about her face. And this faded blue cotton nightgown was so thin with age that despite its demure nature it would be practically as sheer as one of those lace things that they sold at the malls in Houston. She yanked the robe from the foot of her bed at that thought. Bringing it up her clutched it about her ample chest like a shield.

The Sergeant stepped into the room. His eyes looking down at the floor, he held out a steaming cup of hot coffee towards her.

"When I heard you stirring, I thought you might like some of this," he said in that husky tone that always sent tingles racing up Esther's spine and through every intimate part of her body.

"There's breakfast in the kitchen when you're ready. Nothing as special as chocolate chip pancakes, I'm afraid. Just bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. But I figured I'd give you a break from the cooking for once."

Esther smiled weakly at his words. More like he figured he would force feed her again, but there was too much to be done this day to argue. Reaching out she took the cup from his hands. Their fingers brushed during the exchange. Esther swore that his touch was more scalding than the dark liquid inside the old china.

She nodded her head, bringing the cup to her lips for a sip. "Just let me grab a quick shower and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

He nodded and disappeared back the way that he had come, leaving Esther alone to her thoughts. She gathered her clothes, underwear, jeans and an old Texas A&M t-shirt that had been a Mother's Day present from Tommy, Aggie Mom it boasted.

She crossed the hall to the tiny bathroom and turned on the water in the tub. Adjusting it until it was slightly tepid. A cold shower was more like what her body needed that morning. The dark brown nipples still ached against the softness of her cotton gown. Tossing her clothes on to the top of the laundry basket, she tore the offensive material over her head. But then it was the mist that circled about her that tormented and taunted her mature body like her fantasy lover.

What would it feel like to have his hands move over her skin as intimately as the steam? She moaned softly at the thought as she stepped into the tub. Flipping the switch, water from the showerhead began to pound her tight muscles. But rather than relaxing them, the stream of massaging water only heightened her desire. She practically cried out at this new sensation.

"Fuck," she cursed as she picked up the bottle of shampoo that sat on the edge of the tub. She poured some of the sweet smelling liquid into the palm of her hand. Putting the bottle back she began to massage it into her hair. Her fingers brushed a little too roughly over the knot from last night and she moaned in pain this time.

But not even the pain was enough to dampen the unexpected desire that coursed through her. She stood beneath the pulsating shower head and watched as trails of water and bubbles winded their way down her mocha brown skin.

She did not dare breathe when one bubble lodged itself on the tip of her erect nipple. She stared at it, watching the pearlescent play of colors, pinks, blues, purples and the rest of rainbow danced across its taut surface. When it finally popped with a deafening silence, Esther's knees buckled at the intense feeling of pleasure that radiated from the sensitized point.

"Damn it," was her only frustrated response as she picked up the bottle of conditioner and began lathering her hair once more. This time as her fingers wove their way through the tight curls, straightening and loosening the tangles as she went, her mind was filled with the memory of how his fingers had felt instead. As she tugged one stubborn tangle out, she imagined it was her fantasy lover pulling her hair, demanding her submission as those pink lips moved over hers, his tongue dancing a slow Texas two-step with her own.

As she stood beneath the spray, rinsing the conditioner from her hair, Esther made a decision. There was no way she was going to make it through another couple of days like this. Picking up the bar of soap, she began rubbing it softly across her body. She closed her eyes and imagined it was his calloused hands touching her tenderly, intimately like the phantom lover he had been for the past two years.

If those other erotic dreams had been sweet, offering her relief from a lifetime of loneliness, then this was something far more intense. The fact that her fantasy was even then sitting in her kitchen sipping coffee and eating breakfast, the dozens of casual touches that they had shared, her new understanding of this man of honor; they all combined into a heady broth that deepened her level of fantasy.

By the time that her fingers danced and circled about her throbbing clitoris she was already upon the edge. It took only a couple of small circles, the pounding heat of the water and the slippery wetness of the soap combined with the slippery wetness of her body and she sailed over the edge of the precipices like a diver jumping from a cliff into the foaming water far, far below.

Esther clutched the walls and her body hung in mid-air, it seemed to go on forever this dive into the unknown. Her knees threatened to give way and she held tighter to the safety of those walls as about her everything churned and broke upon the sharp rocks.

"Ma'am, is everything alright in there?" Esther's eyes flew wide at the husky sound of his voice muffled by the thick door.

Her mind rifled through the possibilities. What had he heard? Had she cried out, completely unaware of herself? Her cheeks stained in mortification at the possibility.

Quickly she catalogued explanations and chose the most likely. "Sorry, Sergeant. That bump was still just a bit sore," she lied.

"You sure you're alright? You need any help? I'll keep my eyes closed. I won't look. I swear."

Esther chuckled softly at her chivalrous knight once more. "I know you won't, Sergeant. That's the problem," she said under her breath.

"What's that, ma'am?" She heard the soft turn of the knob.

"No, Sergeant. I'm fine. I promise. I'll be out in a couple of minutes." She said quickly, unprepared on so many levels for the man to barge into her bathroom like the Calvary racing to the rescue.

Everything was silent for a moment as Esther reached for her towel hanging from a hook near the tub. She clutched it to her just as she had the robe earlier. Prepared to greet her rescuer if necessary.

"If you're sure then. You were just in there so long that I got nervous. Your head and all. I finished my breakfast and I'm going to head out and work on the haunted house some more. Your breakfast is in the microwave. Join me outside after you get dressed and eat."

Esther nodded in silence at this man, who was so accustomed to giving orders and expected them to be followed without exception. When it dawned on her that he could not see her head, she responded verbally. "Alright, Sergeant."

The last thing she wanted was this man barraging into her bathroom when she was naked, nothing more than a towel as armor. Her body still thrumming with perhaps the most powerful orgasm of her life, the wetness between her thighs only partly from the shower. Most definitely the last thing she needed. Or was it? Some deep part of her mind questioned.

***

The rest of their morning had gone surprisingly well. The Sergeant had like he said been outside working by the time a slightly shaken Esther had emerged fully dressed from her bathroom refuge. Rather than tempt further arguments, she had forced most of the food down before joining him outside for another full day.

They had quickly dispensed with the final touches on the haunted house, ghosts, goblins and spider webs all hung ready for the big night. Only last minute preparations, like blood made from Caro corn syrup and red food dye, spaghetti worms covered in oil for that extra layer of slime or peeled grape eye balls, awaited the children's delight.

By early afternoon the day was even hotter than the one before. They had eaten ham and cheese sandwiches and drank tall cool glasses of iced tea with lemon in the shade of the front porch. As they sat eating in the porch swing, Esther found it hard not to believe that the intimacy they had shared in the darkness was not just another of her carefully crafted flight of fancy.

Although he was perfectly cordial and every bit the gentlemen, there was a shift in the Sergeant that she could sense. The coldness that never felt those blue-grey eyes darkened their depths even more.

It was only as they were finishing off the last of their lunch that Joey ran up the walkway, only then did she see the genuine warmth and caring once more light their darkness.

"Miss Esther, Miss Esther. You're really gonna do it. We're really going to have Halloween after all?" he asked.

"Yes, Joey. I told you we would."

The little boy looked down at the ground. "I know you said. But Mama said that you was too sad about Tommy. That you didn't have time for it this year."

Only in that moment did Esther fully realize exactly how much this once a year celebration meant to Joey and the other children. Oh, she had logically recognized its importance. It was that head knowledge that had driven her to the linen closet even before the Sergeant arrived. But this was different, a knowing of the heart, something precious and special, a rare gift of life that was not to be questioned or second guessed.

She knelt on the bottom step, eye to eye with the boy. Her hand reached out to grip his arm and reassure him that she would always be there for him, but he drew back. His tiny face contorted in pain at the touch. Esther brushed the sleeve of his shirt back to stare at deep red and purple bruises. The design was clear. Four nasty lines running in one direction and a single thicker line going the other. Where they met on the underside of his thin limb, there were five deep crescent moon scratches marring his pale skin.

"What happened, Joey?"

"I fell against the old heater again, Miss Esther," the boy stared at the ground as he choked out the lie.

"We're going to have to do something about that heater soon," she whispered as she lowered his sleeve. She forced a smile to her lips as she asked, "How about some Marshmallow treats? You're my official test taster you know. I can't be serving inferior products to the children you known."

"Inferior? What's that?" He looked up, a bright smile lighting his face at her simple words of praise and the thought of the sweet, crunchy treats.

"Inferior means not good enough," the deep voice answered from over her shoulder.

"Oh, like me," he said.

"No, Joey, not like you. Little boys and girls are never inferior. But sometimes the big people are," Esther wondered at the depths of his simple words.

But she knew that words alone would not be enough to heal the bruises on this child's body and soul. So she offered what comfort was hers to give. She held out her hand to the child, "You ready to test them out? Tell me what you think?"

The child nodded and smiled as they went into the house. For the moment, pains forgotten, decisions delayed.

***

Esther slipped beneath the crisp cotton sheets. The day had been a huge success. The haunted house, front porch and yard were ready to go. She had spent the evening mixing batter for the cookies. Four sheet pans of freshly cut pumpkins, witches and ghosts chilled in the refrigerator. She would slide them into the oven the moment she came home tomorrow so that they would still be warm when the children began to arrive. She had even mixed the orange Kool-Aid with pineapple juice and poured it into ice trays for the witches brew cauldron tomorrow.

As they sat swinging on the porch, she and the Sergeant had carefully gone over the few remaining items to be done. Dried ice to be picked up, grapes to be peeled, blood to be mixed and the goodie bags assembled. They had divvyed them up. Esther would bring home the dried ice from school. Charlie the chemistry teacher at the high school was more than happy to order a bit extra for her each year. Mike would prepare the goodie bags and peel the grapes. The cookies, punch and blood they would work on together once she got home.

Then she would slip into the gypsy costume and transform into Mistress Mystique the fortune teller. The hard part had been deciding what to do about the Frankenstein costume that was in the box next to the gypsy. She knew that the haunted house would not be the same without the monster to jump out at the very end, frightening and delighting the children.

But since he had been fourteen and decided that the annual event needed a 'more adult' element like a haunted house, that job had been Tommy's. Those first few years she had made and remade the costume as he seemed to outgrow the costume each year. This one had been used for the past eight years, since he finally stopped growing in his senior year of high school. Last year, he had joked about packing in his duffle bag and taking it back with him, entertaining his friends and the local kids with his monster.

It had been hard for Esther to ask Mike to play that role this year. She barely pushed the words past her tight throat as she thought about the way her son laughed and played with each child as they emerged from the plastic sheeting. For some he rose up to his full height, arms spread wide, his face contorted in mock anger as he roared. For others he simply tickled them until they giggled. He seemed to know what each child needed.

She would have simply left that costume in the box this year were it not for Joey's innocent words that morning. The weight and significance of the tradition forced her hand as she made herself do what was best for the children, asking this stranger and friend to fulfill the role.

In his quiet and understanding way, the Sergeant had merely nodded his head and said, "If you're sure about this, ma'am, then I'd be honored." And she knew that he meant it.

Esther closed her eyes then. Sounds of Tommy's laughter ringing her ears blended with dark bruises on tiny arms. Threaded through it all was strong muscles playing beneath cotton t-shirts and iridescent bubbles popping so loudly that turned into smoke and the bang of an IED that ended her life as well as her son's.

She bolted straight up in bed. Her mind stunned for a moment, unable to remember why she woke. Then it all came crashing back. Tommy's death. Halloween. Joey. Him.

Her thin night gown and the sheets were damp. Sweat and tears blended with cool night air made her shiver beneath the covers, pulling the quilt to her chin as she tried desperately to get back to sleep.

But her mind would not give her even that respite. Tears began to track softly down her cheeks again. Her pain so deep that tears alone were insufficient to assuage the hole in her soul. At first it was just an occasional gasp here and there. She brought her knuckles up to her mouth as if to trap them inside.

Even those were not enough as images flashed through her mind. Tommy's smiling face against a truck. The Sergeant and a couple of others posed with him in front of tents. They ran like one of her slide show presentations through her mind. Each slide digging deeper at the hole in her soul.

She was not even aware of the sobs. Until she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. His words were husky as he turned her, drawing her into his arms. "It's alright. Let it out. It makes it better."

Her fists plummeted the bare steel of his chest. "That's a lie. It doesn't. Nothing makes it better. Nothing ever will." She cried in anguish. Her body shook and quivered from the tears, the cold and his presence so close.

How many times over the past two years had she dreamt of this? The Sergeant naked, well half naked, in her bed. But not like this. Not with her in the middle of one of her crying jags that nothing could stop until the hiccups came. Tears continued to fall as her body trembled.

"I know," that deep voice offered. She could feel that his barely audible admission was torn from his heart with as much pain as she was feeling at that moment.

She was never certain exactly how it happened. But suddenly there was a shift. She felt it to the ends of her toes, curling beneath the quilt she had sewn with love over the past six months. The world might not be fair. This pain might be more than she could bear. But she was alive. And for the first time in a long time, she felt it. Alive.

The silence in her tiny bedroom was alive at that moment too. His large hands that held her shoulders began to move slowly up and down her arms. They spread warmth... perhaps in ways he did not even mean. Esther clinched her fingers against the springy warmth of his chest hairs.

They stayed like that. She was not sure how long she lay there, cocooned in that steely softness of his embrace. It was a moment of decision. One of those times in life when two pathways diverge in the wood and we must make a clear choice which path we will take.

Esther knew that she should ask him to go back to the couch. It was the logical thing to do. The respectable thing. She was at least a decade older than this man. Fast closing in on the half century mark, she had little to offer a man, any man. It had been a long time since she had even indulged, well simply indulged.

But in the dark silence, Esther admitted to herself that she had never felt as safe as she did at that moment. Surrounded by the strength and warmth of his arms, her face inches from the fuzzy, steel of his impressive chest. Her fingers did not wait for her mind to decide. They began to caress slowly across his skin.

She felt the low rumble even before she heard it. His voice was. husky "Ma'am, I think we both know that in just about five seconds this thing is going places that neither of us can take back. So if you want to change your mind, now would be a good time."