My Son's Best Friend Ch. 08byCheleste©
Now that Jonah was practically living with us, I saw that he not only watched TV a lot, but also liked to play video games. Occasionally, he and Paul would go find somewhere to dribble a basketball, or take their skateboards to the skate park in town. Just normal kid stuff. I knew he was young. That was okay with me.
Sometimes he would go home for a while. Sometimes, he would disappear for hours or days without any explanation about where he had been or what he was doing.
I didn't have a lot of prejudices about what he or anyone else should do with their life. In my opinion, life was to be enjoyed, if at all possible, and nobody should do something they hated just for money. There was always a way to make ends meet.
Paul's job wasn't any great shakes, but he liked the other people at the store where he worked, included them in his social life as well. It was a small town, and that meant things like work and play weren't so segregated as in the city. There was a casual and personal atmosphere to most businesses in town, and I liked that.
There was a small university here, so that meant lots of young people; and there was a definitely liberal, hippie vibe in the area; lots of alternative-type people around, living alternative lifestyles to some degree or the other.
However, I had noticed that even the alternative types were sometimes more conventional in their thinking than you might expect, plus there was a conservative NRA rancher influence.
Margaret sort of straddled both spheres. She ran a title company, so anyone who bought or leased land had to go to her. She had a nose for business that I had never had, and I admired that. She had a heart of gold, and she had gone through a divorce about the same time I did, so we had cried on each-other's shoulder many times.
I felt really strange walking downtown to meet her for lunch. I had had to go there to get groceries since I had been seeing Jonah, but I had done it as fast as possible, avoiding contact, with the briefest of greetings to anyone who was familiar.
I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I was aware of how everyone who passed me probably saw me. Middle-aged; no man; unsophisticated; needs a make-over; needs a hairstyle; aloof; self-absorbed.
I reached the restaurant, and peeked behind the arch to see that Margaret already had a table. I hated schedules. I knew she only had so long for lunch, but I just hated having to be somewhere at any certain time.
I slipped into the seat opposite her and smiled my greeting.
"Margaret! You look great!"
She did, too. Not a hair out of place, her make-up subtle but flattering, wearing just the right skirt and jacket, fashionable but not overdone. I felt so dowdy next to her.
"Jean," she looked into my eyes. "It's such a relief to see you. You're a breath of fresh air - so free and easy. I envy you! I wish I could go braless."
Well, that's why we were friends.
"I attended that course in the city, and the people there were so stuffy and boring. I mean, I like my work, but the profession doesn't exactly attract fun and carefree people, if you know what I mean. I'm so glad to be home!
"So what's been happening since I left?"
"Uh, when did you leave? I don't remember."
She laughed at me then. "Jean, you're so wild. I wish I could forget what day - or month, or year - it was now and then! I really need you to take the taste of that workshop out of my mouth."
Her eyes sparkled at me, and I was reminded of how much I loved this woman.
I chortled, grinning a little self-consciously. I hadn't necessarily planned on telling her here. I had thought maybe I would just make a date for a more private visit. But this opening was too good to pass up. Carpe diem!
"Well...I don't know that much of interest has been happening here. At least, I haven't heard of anything. But then I haven't been paying much attention, because I've sort of been - um - caught up in my own private...little...paradise."
Her eyes got brighter and she raised her eyebrows, smiling conspiratorially. "Tell me more!"
"Well, I've, um, sort of met someone."
Her delight for me was genuine, and I had her rapt and hungry attention.
"But I need you to hear this as confidential, because I'm really feeling the need to keep it discreet right now."
She was intrigued, and I knew I was just making her more curious, but I had to hedge my bet before I could tell her the details.
"Of course. You know me, Jean. I'm only a gossip when it's somebody I'm not close to! I can keep secrets."
She looked at me with bated breath. "Who is this hunk that can't be known to the general public?"
I closed my eyes. Oh God. I can't tell her yet.
"Well, before I tell you who, I just want to tell you a little bit about what he's like, why we're together."
"Is it someone I know?" she asked suddenly, and I could see the list of eligible men in town reeling through her brain.
"Margaret, I need you to listen to me. Really listen. I'll answer all your questions in time, but I need you to give me some space here. This is...big for me."
She calmed down a little then, backed off, got silent.
"This is...well, it's kind of crazy and it's not something I ever imagined happening to me, or for me, and it's not your typical scenario, and it's really wonderful, and scary at times, and just about the most amazing sex I've ever had, and like the sweetest gentlest man I've ever met - he has this gift - it's like, so intuitive; and we're really different in certain ways, but really connected in other ways, and Paul's okay with me seeing him, but..."
I stopped there.
Margaret couldn't help herself. "Is he - married?"
"No," I shook my head.
"Young? How young? Thirties? Twenties?"
Her eyes widened. "Not...illegal young?"
"No, not illegal young, but, just, like, barely not."
We sat staring at each-other. I held my breath, waiting for it to sink in.
She swallowed hard, and the wait person stepped up to the table, stumbling all over herself with her apology that we had had to wait so long to be served. She plunked two plates down in front of us and rushed off.
"I hope you don't mind, Jean. I ordered you crab cakes. You like those, and I knew you'd be late as usual, and I do have to get back by 1:00."
I looked down at the food like it was some strange foreign body invading my universe. I wasn't hungry.
She picked up her fork and began to eat with that dainty, aristocratic way she had. Being classy came so easily to her. Never pretentious, just naturally poised, like she was born that way, or something.
I sat with my hands folded in my lap.
She was savoring her food, taking her time. I usually attacked mine with all the decorum of a camel, but today it just sat in front of me.
She chewed slowly and carefully, waiting until her mouth was empty and taking a sip of water before she spoke. Then she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it again. Then she continued to work her way across her plate.
Finally, she seemed to have composed something she felt was appropriate to say.
"Is this safe for you?"
"Yes. Safe - emotionally, mentally. You seem so anxious, and sort of, well, thrown off-center. Are you okay?"
"Well, it's been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and it's definitely stretching me out of my comfort zone, but, well, there's something about it that has made me feel really good, and alive and - happy. It's more right than anything that has happened to me in a long time, and I...I think I have a pretty good grasp of the risks. I - I think the benefits outweigh the liabilities."
There! I had put it into the terms in which she was conversant.
"Well, that's important," she allowed.
"Margaret, I don't ask you to understand what I'm doing. I'm just asking you to trust me, and to keep my confidence. Can you do that?"
"Yes, of course, Jean. It's not like I have any reason to tell anyone your business. I'm just a little worried about you."
I looked into her eyes then. "Try not to be, okay? I need you, Margaret. I need your support and I need your caring, but you can't find the answers for my life. Only I can do that."
"I know, Jean. I just don't want you to get hurt."
I laughed quietly at that. "Margaret, you know as well as I do that nothing worth having in life comes without its price."
"Well, just don't sign on the dotted line before you know what that is."
"I'll try not to."
Margaret glanced at her watch, and exclaimed, "Oh, it's five till! I've just got time to get back!"
"Let me get the check," I offered.
"But you didn't even eat!"
"That's okay. I'll take it home. You go on. I'll get it."
"Thanks, love." She put her hands on my shoulders and kissed the air on both sides of my cheeks. "You know I love you."
I kissed back and nodded. "Have a good afternoon."
She whisked out of the restaurant, and I took my time collecting a take-home box and paying the bill. The wait person was still harried, so I just waited until she found time to take my money, and assured her that her apology was unnecessary.
It felt right to leave things where they were at this point. I hadn't told her who, and she hadn't asked. We'd save that for another time, after she'd had a while to get used to the idea.
I couldn't wait to get home to the safety of my country haven. I hoped Jonah was there and Paul wasn't.
When I pulled up, my garden caught my attention. I got out and wandered into it. It was so green and growing wildly now, producing lots of vegetables for our meals, and looking vibrant and cheerful. I felt immediately soothed.
I looked for Jonah, but the house was empty. He never left a note or anything. He gave me a lot of practice with letting go and letting things be.
I walked back into the garden and sat on the bench, grazing across my breasts, stroking my arms, feeling the warmth around my heart. It was because of Jonah. What I had with him had given me the courage to be honest with Margaret today, to find the words to tell her my truth. I was grateful. I felt good about myself.
And my body felt wonderful, full, sensuous. I wished Jonah was here to take advantage of it. But I just sat and enjoyed it myself. And the pleasant sensations emanating from my breasts made me want more.
So I spread my legs wide and smoothed my fingers over the wet opening. I stared at the green leaves and winding stems of the squash plants, looked at the little baby peppers dangling from their vines, and felt all the sprouting, shooting life surrounding me. I stroked with a firm and steady pace, feeling the rumbling just below the surface increasing, intensifying. I brought it close to release, then slowed, over and over, feeling deeper and fuller every time.
A dark, billowing cloud moved suddenly over the sun and thundered, lightening flashing on the mountain in the distance. I rubbed faster, matching the feeling of the thunder, letting it roll into me, into my cunt and out again. The rain hit suddenly, in big wet splotches, landing on my face, my bare arms and legs, and all the big and little leaves waving in the sudden gust of wind.
I rubbed harder, and my body jerked in the convulsion of rhapsody, and a gush of liquid spilled out, running over the bench and onto the ground. I looked at it in wonder.
Wow! That felt fantastic! I watered the garden! I watered the garden!
I don't know why that made me so happy, but it did. It made me feel like part of things. Like I wasn't separate from the garden. It was part of me and I was part of it, and it happily received the stream from my body!
I had never done that before. I knew it wasn't pee. It didn't smell, it wasn't colored. I didn't know I could do that!
The rain was turning into a downpour and it was pretty cold, beating on my skin, so I hurried into the house. I wrapped up in a big towel and crouched on the couch, watching the storm out the picture window. The sky was completely overcast, and the lightening and thunder went on and on, bringing hail at one point. It was awesome.
Where was Jonah? I liked to think he was watching the storm too. In fact, I was sure he was.