Grace Takes a Time Out Ch. 08

2nd Tuesday

"Do you know, Peter, it is remarkable what tiny seemingly unimportant things trigger people's emotions." Grace and Peter are having their regular 8:00 a.m. starting the day conversation at her kitchen table. She's dressed in loose sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, bare feet, finished with breakfast, and working through her coffee mug; Peter is in his regular grubby, paint-stained outfit and is sitting opposite her with his ice tea. "You said something about red nail polish with gold sparkles last week, and then yesterday you said it set you off. There was a moment there yesterday when you looked downright crazy, like insane crazy. That was something." She leaves it hanging.

"I know what you mean. It was almost an out of body experience: I was so pumped I wanted to screw you so deep and so hard, to be inside your skin or you inside mine, to eat you up - literally consume you - all at once. I wanted to have and join with everything in you and about you. I'm still in shock. Did it, like, show?"

"Oh yeah. I don't recall anybody looking at me that way, ever. And I didn't just fall off the turnip truck either. It was scary and it was, I don't know, sexy? Arousing? Threatening? There must be some part of you that let the animal out."

"Afterwards, when I thought about it, it scared me but I also thought 'Wow! That was something!' You really had me going. As exciting as it was, I think I'd better be ready to damp it down next time."

"Next time you can be ready and channel it. I could feel your energy and lust - what other word is there? - and I had just a few seconds to be ready. All I could do was take it, like a big wave on the beach, ride it, get rolled by it, and hope I didn't get pounded into the sand. You've got more depth than you know."

"I'll take your word for that, Grace. But about the nail polish, fingers and toes, it is really hot." He looks at her finger and smiles. "I'm not sure it did the whole thing: in your slutty outfit, I hope you're not offended but that's about the only word I can come up with to describe it, you were something else." He leans back in his chair and smiles at her, knowingly.

"Slutty was the target. You got it, and I'm not offended. I'll look forward to your role playing game sometime." She smiles back at him, with her own sly, lewd, smile. "Meanwhile, there's work to do. I've decided to paint my bedroom, too, so today I'll pick-up the paint and when you finish the kids, bathroom, and hall you can do me next." Another sly grin. He's surprised.

"Oh, I thought you were going to leave that."

"No, I've decided if I am moving ahead that it needs to be my room and my colors. No disrespect to Joe, but life is and will go on. Those colors were a compromise but now I have all the votes and I'm changing things." Bravado, but an undercurrent of needing to convince herself.

"You're the boss of painting, so just tell me what to do. Oh, and I need some more masking tape and some roller covers." She nods. "Are you sure you're OK with the Friday night barbeque at my house? I'm a little nervous."

"Relax, Peter. It will be fine. You spend time with your friends, I'll spend time with your parents and my other friends from when I lived in the neighborhood, and it'll all be fine. No need to introduce confusion by telling anyone what we are doing, is there? I won't tell on you and I trust you'll keep my secrets."

"I know I know. It's like the dentist - it'll be better when it's over."

"Yeah, it'll be fine. I have to shower and get ready to go out, but I'll be back in the afternoon. You have lots to do?"

"Sure, I'm a day at least, maybe two, from finishing up what I have now."

"Help me shower? You're so good at doing my back." She flashes the bedroom eyes and come-hither smile and taps the finger nails of one hand on the table where he can see their red polish with gold flecks. He looks back at her, into her eyes, smiles, and shifts in his chair so he can push one shoe off with the other foot, then the second.

"I think," he says rising from his chair to walk around the table, "that I'll have to take a look at that back myself to see if I can help." By this time he is next to her chair; she turns toward him without getting up but raises her arms. He takes the shirt by the shoulders and pulls it up and off her exposing her bare chest and back. Then he rests his hands on her shoulders and makes a show of looking over her head and down at her back. "I think I can help," he says with a grin as he straightens up again and looks down into her face. When she had lowered her arms she had put her hands on his thighs and by now run them up under his track shorts; after sliding her finger nails around his butt and getting under his briefs they are now in front touching his erection as it thickens.

She smiles back up at him. "Good," is all she says as she pulls his track shorts down from the hem until the waistband clears his growing erection and it swings toward her. She leans over and takes it in her mouth and gives it a few gentle rubs with her tongue, which causes it to stiffen rapidly. He massages her shoulders with his hands as she does this, but after a few moments of her sucking he backs up a step, moves his hands down under her arms and lifts her up so they are standing facing each other. They embrace and kiss, first on the lips then working around each other's necks and ears while their hands stroke each other's backs from ass to shoulder. She breaks off after a minute saying "Your shirt, please," and pulling the hem of his t-shirt up and over his head she drops it on the floor. Another minute of increasingly intense make out, bare chests pressed together, passes until she once again breaks off, this time turning away from him without speaking and walking out of the room in the direction of her bedroom. Peter drops his track shorts to the floor and steps out of them.

He follows her. All she has on are the sweatpants which are barely held up by the inward curve of her hips. He takes in the whole picture: she is walking with an exaggerated swing of her hips and buttocks, her back with its smooth clear skin and gentle vertical texture of muscles, her shoulders he had been massaging only minutes before, her shoulder length dark blond hair swinging in time with her pace. Grace walks into her bedroom and stops after a few steps; she raises her arms above her head and joins her hands. Peter is only a couple of steps behind and he walks up to her, puts his hands on her hips, and pushes the sweatpants down so they fall to the floor.

She has nothing underneath them. He wraps his arms around her, one hand rising to her breasts and the other descending to cover her pubic hair. He pulls her close as she drops her arms down again; his erection is upright and pressed between them. He massages her with his hands; she spreads her legs just a little so the lower hand can start to work its way between. He nibbles her ear lobe and she responds with a pleased guttural purr. He continues, making small alterations to the stroking and massaging patterns to maintain her interest. She presses back against him to show her increasing interest. "Bed?" he whispers in her ear.

Grace presses her shoulders against his, sliding them up and down just for the sensation. "You first," she replies.

Peter releases her slowly from his encircling grasp then side by side they take the few steps to the bed and he lies down on it on his back. She bends down to nudge him over and away from the side. "A little more," she urges. When he is almost to the middle she leans in, climbs onto the bed so she's on her hands and knees but in the opposite direction. He sees what's coming and reaches over to the far side of her waist to pull her toward him; she lifts her leg across him, brings her knees up beside him, and settles her pussy down onto his face as he moves his arms out of the way and above his shoulders. She wraps a couple of fingers around his erection, angles it up, and as her face descends she inhales it.

They both start to get serious: she sucking and moving her head up and down, he grips her thighs so he can adjust her position to get best access for his lips and tongue. Quiet licking and sucking sounds are occasionally broken by heavy breathing as one or the other comes up for air. Soon they are twisting and squirming. He brings one of his arms back so his hand can find its way between her thighs and over his forehead and slide a couple of fingers into her vagina. Her body jerks perceptibly when he does and her pace on his erection increases. He swirls the fingers around at her entry.

After another minute or two of this they both come, Grace just before Peter. In her orgasm she pulls her face away from his erection; he feels it drag across her lower lip in mid ejaculation and then pump his semen into the air and onto her neck, her tits, and the last on his belly. They both relax down and after a minute or so during which he continues, gently, to lick around her clit she rolls off him. They both lie still for some time, staring at the ceiling, head to toe, panting. Grace breaks the silence: "Well, at least now I have something to wash off." She lifts her arm next to him so that she can stroke his chest.

The shower is not as large as they might want, about three feet square, but there's plenty of room for them to soap each other up and play on their slippery skins. They don't stay in too long, but by the time Peter gets out his erection is back and throbbing. He gets a towel, passes one to Grace and starts to dry himself off. She has a larger, softer, fluffier one but she just watches as he dries himself. He notices her watching when he is almost all dry; she smiles and holds her towel out in front of her wet, dripping, glistening body to him and says "Now dry me." So he drops his towel and does.

She reacts as strongly to him moving the towel all across her body as she does when he does it with just his bare hands, perhaps even more strongly. He starts at her shoulders and works his way down, kissing a favorite spot here or there as he goes. By the time he's at her calves she is breathing hard and running her hands back and forth through his hair. She reaches down and grabs one of his arms to urge him up and when he is standing looks into his eyes with what seems like desperation. Without a word she leads him, pulls him really, back to the bedroom where she sits on the bed and drags him down on her. They kiss and touch. He pushes her away towards the center of the bed and when she's where he wants her he grasps her ankles and lifts them to his shoulders then bends them back to her as he comes down on top and thrusts his erection into her. He's on top, his body against the backs of her legs; he starts a fast rhythm, thrusting as deep as he can. She just lays there, arms out at her sides, pushing back slightly with her legs in time with her thrusts, her eyes closed.

It doesn't take long before she starts to moan and vocalize. He is working hard to keep up his pace. When her orgasm comes she cries out, twists her body, presses her arms down onto the bed, arches her torso up, and clamps down on him. That sets him off intensely and he can feel the individual spurts as long, time-standing-still, outflowings.

*

Around 1:00 p.m. Peter is taking a break from painting, sitting at Grace's kitchen table with a sandwich when his cell phone rings:

"Hello."

"Oh, hi Shirley! What's up?"

"Friday - no I've got a family party. You open Saturday? I've got work until noon or so."

"Later would be good. Say 6:00?"

"Should I bring some food or something to drink?"

"No? OK. What's this friend want me to help with?"

"You sound mysterious, but I'm happy to help if I can. See you then. Thanks."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing you too." After the call ends he sits there staring at the phone, apparently perplexed, but pleased. He's thinking any chance to see Shirley again is a good thing, but this friend she thinks he can help? That's a mystery.

Just as he is putting it away his phone's message alert sounds and he sees it's a text from Grace: "Ran into an old friend. Not back til late. See U Weds. G"

A few minutes later the doorbell rings, he hears the door open, and a female voice calls out "Hey Grace!"

Peter thinks he knows who it is and calls back "In the kitchen, Judy." She appears at the door and looks around.

"Hi Peter. Grace here?" She's dressed for work in flats and an unbuttoned white medical lab coat over a long skirt and conservative top. Peter thinks, instantly and somewhat at random: 'Where's the stethoscope?'

"Nope. Just the working guy. I got a text from her a few minutes ago that she'll be late so I won't see her again today. Can I help?"

"Nothing to help with really. I have a long lunch today and I just thought I'd come by and visit." Judy is Grace's girlfriend: medium height, mid to late 40's, slender build but attractively curved, Judy today is very professional looking.

"There's plenty of stuff here for lunch if you want. I have no idea what Grace is off doing."

"That's OK, Peter. As long as I'm here I might as well raid the fridge." Peter figures she knows where everything is, but he gets up and helps her forage for lunch. A plate is assembled, beer refused in favor of water, and when they are back at the table Peter works on his remains as she starts on her lunch. "Thanks for helping. I just thought she might be in." He nods; she shifts nervously. "Saturday was pretty unusual wasn't it? I mean, Grace set me up, talked me into it, but at the moment of decision it was mine to decide." She pauses nervously, as if asking for confirmation or validation. He just nods. "I mean, you know, the whole thing is weird. I'm not making excuses, and I did enjoy it, but it was strange and I'm conflicted." She looks at him uncomfortably.

"Tell me about it, Judy." Peter says rhetorically. "Grace cooks up some pretty strange stuff, but this was at the outer limits. Put you and me in a pretty strange place and she's there watching. I hope you don't think I'm a jerk; I was as confused as anyone else, probably more, and Grace sort of egged me on. You have my promise that it will remain a complete secret with me. But I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

"I'm with you - it was surreal. Not only was I blown away that you are the painter I'd heard about but I am still trying to decide if I enjoyed it or how much I regret." She laughs. "Well, no I'm not, actually - I did enjoy it; later on I'll find out if there's anything to regret. I haven't been with a man for over a year: you're the first since Vic. God, that Grace can talk a good line, and I went for it even after we met and I knew who you were. Part of me has no regrets, part of me says 'What's Alicia going to say?'" Now that Judy has gotten all this out she is more relaxed.

"Well, I hope I didn't mess anything up." Is all Peter can say: he has no excuses and he enjoyed it. He figures Judy's main thing is conflict about screwing someone her daughter dated in the past. The conversation continues, it wanders to other topics, and at some point Peter figures out Judy is an adult and makes her own decisions so he's not at fault, although a little restraint with his ex-girlfriend's mother might be in order.

"Can you show me the rooms you've painted?" Judy asks. "Grace has sounded really pleased but when I was here Saturday I didn't think to take a look."

Peter gets up from the table: "Sure, I'll give you the tour. Keep in mind," he says as they walk down the hall "I don't choose the colors, I just put it on." He shows her the kids rooms and the office, and then the guest room; the last being in progress with the furniture pulled away from the walls, the bed in the center of the room piled with sheets and blankets, a few drop cloths, and tape still in place around the windows. "With Grace gone all afternoon today I might get this pretty close to done, then the bathroom. And this morning Grace announced she wants to repaint her bedroom, too."

"Oh, that's new." Judy says with a bit of surprise; she sits down on the bed. "I know when she was planning to do the painting she was undecided about her room; the others seemed to need it but they had done her room when they moved in a couple of years ago so technically it was OK. She thought it would be like kicking Joe out of the bedroom so even though she never really liked the color she decided to stick with it. If she's now decided to re-paint she's looking at some things differently."

"May be." replies Peter. "I know one of her to-do list items is to sort out Joe's clothes and take about 99% of them to the Goodwill. She's asked me if I want any, but I think it would be too strange for me to be walking around in his clothes, all things considered." She nods, looks at him, and smiles in agreement. "I don't think they'd fit me anyway - he was heavier." He pauses briefly and looks into space, then he's back. "I hope repainting her room isn't because of me, us. I hope it's something she wants to do for herself."

"Mostly Grace knows her own mind. Sometimes she surprises herself, but usually she knows what she's doing. You were an exception, at first." Peter had been wandering around the room checking the work as they talked, but turned to her at this with a questioning look. "Don't worry, Peter, she wants to keep it up with you until the kids are back. There's a nagging feeling I have, though, that she has still not fully come to terms with Joe's death. It was so sudden, and then she had her hands full with keeping the kids on track. And then me: we fell in together for solace, became friends, lovers, and you know the rest of that. She hasn't had much time for herself and has filled in the empty spots as best she could - I just wonder sometimes if she's really made peace with it." Peter sits down on the bed next to her.

"Do you think there's anything I can do to help? I remember at first she was really stressed but after about 3 or 4 months she seemed to get a grip, and I spent a lot of time here with yard work, helping with the handyman stuff, and watching the kids sometimes when she was out. To me she seems to be as over it as I can imagine one gets, and I understand she'll never be completely over it, but I'm no expert."

"'Over it' is a pretty hard concept. I think I am doing OK, but there are days when I look at my kids and I'm just incredibly sad for the three of us. At least I don't cry about it anymore, just sort of tear up. You just keep on being yourself with her - she does like you and respect you, and I can see why. Let me know if I can help or you want to talk, but I won't keep secrets from Grace so anything you tell me may get back to her. OK?" She turns to look at him to be sure he has the message. "Let's exchange cell numbers so we can be in touch." They pause to do that.

"Yeah. I'll give it all some thought. This last week and a half have been a lot of work in the 'give it some thought' department." He smiles back at her. "I thought fantasies coming true would be easy but I'm finding it's way complicated. Good thing I don't have to write a 'what I did on my summer vacation' essay: I'd probably get an F 'cause the teacher would think I made it all up." Judy stands up and looks around the room, then back at Peter.

"Just write about painting. These all look pretty good. Maybe I'll have you over to do some of mine if you have time after school starts." She smiles; he looks surprised, and even concerned. "Don't worry - Danny's still at home and in high school so he'll be there to protect me from your lascivious ways!"

"Oh no, Judy. I wasn't thinking that. Really. Well, not much." He grins sheepishly as he stands.

"I've heard about you, Mr. Enthusiasm. At the very least I'd have to get a permission slip from Grace." She laughs lightly while Peter blushes; she walks out of the room and down the hall to the front door with Peter following. "Back to work." she says. "Thanks for the lunch and the chat. You're doing just fine here, for Grace and for the paint." Peter is taken by surprise when she turns away from the door towards him, reaches her arms up around his neck and pulls him to her for a kiss, not a friendly peck or motherly hug, but an intense hot lips in full contact kiss; he responds spontaneously and without thinking by putting his arms around her and extending the kiss. When they do pull apart, both a little flustered, she looks at him directly: "Keep up the good work, mister. Hope I'll see you again soon." She smiles, turns, opens the door and leaves. Peter closes it behind her and pauses for a moment to add another couple of pages to his imaginary back-to-school essay.