Our Love Story

Chapter 3 - Falling in Love

When I met Lacy, I had been unattached for over a year, and to assuage my loneliness, had applied myself a new subject, the study of Native American Art, and was close to completing a major paper on the subject, which meant many hours at the computer. When I was invited to give a talk to Lacy's adult education class on the influence of Native American art on the modernist school, I only accepted on a whim, mainly as a way of getting out of the house for the evening, and perhaps to meet some interesting people, having been something of a recluse for several months. At the end of my talk I suggested that those who were particularly interested might like to join me for a drink afterwards at a well known restaurant close by. As it turned out, the only one from the group who accepted was Lacy. Perhaps it was fate taking a hand, who knows?

In the restaurant, before ordering our drinks, she let me know that she was the Lacy Middleton on the enrollment sheet, although she was rather embarrassed that she was the only one to accept my invitation. At first our conversation was rather strained, partly because of Lacy's lack of self belief I suspect. She still says that she cannot see what I might have found attractive in her that evening, a middle aged widow without makeup, in faded jeans and a shapeless plain sweater

Despite her protestations, Lacy was a charming and attractive companion, and conversation soon became easy, especially when she told me that she had a few pieces of native art, mainly because that was when she started to relax. Sensing her enthusiasm I encouraged he to describe them, and to tell me how she had got them, although I was also genuinely interested. After that, conversation quite naturally moved on to more personal matters, and she was soon telling me about Jim and his illness and death, and her loneliness. As a teacher I learned long ago the value of listening attentively to my students as much as talking, and perhaps that was why Lacy found it so easy to confide in me. She says it was because I was sympathetic in a way that her friends has ceased to be, familiar with her situation as they were, and possibly just a little bored.

After what seemed like minutes, but must have been nearly an hour, during which Lacy had talked almost nonstop, the manager indicated that it was time to close the bar and lock up. She feared that would be the end of it, but I thought it would be rather interesting to see her small collection, and I wrote my name and telephone number on a piece of paper. I also asked her if she would give me her cell number and address, so that I could give her a call to arrange a convenient time to go round, and it was at that point I discovered that we lived within a couple of miles of each other. I could not recall having ever met her, although that is unlikely as I am sure we must have frequented the same shops.

When I went home after that evening, I found that I was unable to get Lacy out of my mind. Her story moved me, and she touched me in a way that had not happened for a long time, absorbed as I had been with my work. I was also surprised to discover that I wanted to share something of my situation with her, recognizing in some inchoate way that she was perhaps the soulmate that I had been seeking, but given up any hope of finding. Lacy has told me since, that she hadn't felt so comfortable, and yet so physically drawn to anyone since Jim's death, and she was anxious to see me again. She also added that she couldn't believe her good fortune, and was like a teenager again imagining all kinds of fun we could have together, even allowing herself to feel aroused at the thought of being physically close to me in while we were looking at her Indian art.

I had been invited to attend a dinner in a few weeks time where I was to receive some kind of award for my work, and I wondered if Lacy would consent to be my partner for the evening. Her company would make the time pass so much more pleasantly — the conversation of my fellow academics could tend to become tedious after a time, and once the dinner was over I would be left alone and lonely. The next day I phoned the organizers to say I would be bringing a partner, and would they reserve another room in the hotel for the night? In retrospect this all seems rather presumptuous of me, but I have always been decisive, and in my arrogance I was sure that I would be able to win Lacy round.

At that stage there was nothing sexual in my feelings, just the belief that I might have found someone from outside my normal circle of academia to share something of my thoughts and feelings as a friend. When I went round to her house to look at her few pieces of Native American art I still had no idea that this would be the beginning of something quite wonderful. Lacy looked different that morning. There was a glow about her that I found very attractive, and I began to see something of the lovely woman who had been hiding beneath a drab exterior.

Lacy has confessed that on the morning that I was going round to her house, she was so keen to make a good impression that she frantically went round plumping the cushions, and moving a decorative piece an inch this way, and then going back and moving it back to where it had been originally. This was just an ordinary meeting over a cup of coffee, but she says she felt just like a young girl going out on a first date. She spent hours getting ready, arranging her hair, and putting on make up for the first time in ages, nothing too much, just blusher and eye shadow, and a nice demure lip gloss. She also wore a freshly pressed pair of jeans and a pretty ocean blue top that she thought set off her eyes and blondish hair. The top was rather low cut, showing enough cleavage to announce what was underneath, and she felt like a woman again after so many months of not caring about her appearance.

Lacy noticed that I wore a wedding ring, and politely enquired about my wife and family. Most unexpectedly, I found myself spilling out all my loneliness, and telling her things that I had kept hidden so long. I explained that I had been married but that my wife had left m some years before, and that we had totally lost contact — not even a Christmas Card. I admitted that it was mainly my fault, I had just been too busy developing my career and had neglected Carol shamefully, so it really came as no surprise when I came home one Sunday after a symposium to find a terse note. When I looked, her car was no longer in the garage, and her clothes were all gone, so I guessed that that was that. I told her about my parents and my only sibling, a brother, and his wife and children. I said that I tried to see them as often as my schedule allowed as they were only about three hours drive away.

Lacy's sympathy began to thaw my heart, and I found myself experiencing emotions that I had kept bottled up for years. Two hours passed in a flash, and when we eventually looked at her small collection together, the brief touch of her hand was like an electric shock, a human contact that created in me a hope that we might become much closer in time. Of course, nothing happened that morning, but I knew in that moment that Lacy might be the person to share the rest of my life with. I thought that I was being very discreet, however Lacy tells me that I seemed to be interested in more than what she had to say, and that I was betrayed by the way I kept looking at her body, something that she found more than a little arousing.

As I was reluctantly getting ready to take my leave, the morning had been so pleasant and Lacy such a perfect hostess and companion, I told her about the dinner and to my joy, she accepted my invitation. I told her that I would phone the organizers, although as I have said, I had already done that, so I told her a bit of a fib. I could have handled it a bit less clumsily, I guess, and Lacy has said that she did wonder why I always seemed to mention these things as I was about to leave, as if they were an afterthought? The thought going through her mind at that moment was that this was very sudden, and was I attracted to her in the same way as she was to me. In spite of her misgivings, she nearly snapped my hand off, eager as she was to carry on with our relationship, half hoping I suppose, that it might lead to something more intimate, although she still admits this rather shamefacedly.

The next few days passed so slowly, and often in the midst of writing my talk, I would find myself daydreaming of Lacy. I wondered what she would look like in a posh dress, and to my shame, what she would look like without her clothes. Once or twice when I was masturbating, it was her face that I saw, her eyes looking in to mine, and her name on my lips as I climaxed. What I didn't know at that time was that Lacy was experiencing the same mixture of doubt and desire, and that morning after I left, she was so aroused thinking about what might happen that she went up to her bedroom, and undressed, imagining me watching her as she ran her hands over her body.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I arranged with reception to exchange my luxury suite for the standard double room that had been reserved for Lacy. After all the trials and difficulties of the last couple of years she deserved a treat, and I had no need for the suite, just a place to dress for dinner, and to sleep once the evening was over. As it turned out, I did sleep in the luxury suite that night, but not in the circumstances I might have envisaged. I arranged for a vase of roses to be left on a table, along with two champagne flutes on a little tray, and for a bottle of champagne to be put in the refrigerator. About half an hour later I asked to see the suite to check that everything was as I had ordered, and I left a signed note card, expressing the hope that our weekend together might be just the beginning of lovely times to come.

I had requested that reception should ring to let me know when Lacy arrived, and once she had had time to unpack and settle in, I called her on the internal telephone to ask if everything was okay.

She thanked me effusively, and said that it was very nice indeed, and far more than she had expected. "I even have the most luxurious king sized bed," she replied, and I suspected she might be blushing as she was speaking, "and the bathroom is simply palatial."

"Nonsense," I replied, "a special lady should be given the very best, and I hope that once the dinner and the formalities are over, we will be able to enjoy the opportunity to get to know each other very much better in comfort. I will leave you now to get ready, and I will call to pick you up in an hours time."

What is certain is that I wasn't prepared for the beautiful woman standing waiting for me in the corridor outside her room, nervously twisting her wedding band round her finger, and when I saw her standing there in her little black dress, my heart leapt at the sight. I must admit that in my surprise and delight to see this beautiful butterfly, that I looked her over with a silent whistle, which made her blush. When I complimented her on her appearance, and told her that she would be by far the most beautiful lady at the dinner, Lacy blushed again, and admitted that she had butterflies in her stomach, and felt just like a girl going on her first date, rather than a widowed woman of nearly fifty. Taking her arm in mine, I led her to the elevator, and down to the large function suite where the dinner was to be held.

As we entered the room, I felt her stiffen, and pull back slightly. "I didn't know that there would be so many people," she whispered, but I held on tight to her arm, and led her to our places at the top table.

A few minutes later, after she had had a chance to read the program card that was on the table in front of every place, she dug me in the ribs, and whispered again, "You didn't tell me that you were the guest of honor, and that the purpose of the event was to present you with a very prestigious award."

The dinner itself was not really all that memorable. The food was reasonable, and there were the usual conversations at gatherings of academics, about the lack of respect of students these days, the problems with research funding, and the failures of the government. Then after coffee, it was time for the toasts, and the speeches. I graciously accepted my award, and thanked the organizers for the great honor they had bestowed in me, and then I gave my own speech about the importance of Art in Contemporary Society, which was applauded rather more enthusiastically than it deserved. Lacy was very quiet, and appeared to be in a dream much of the time, rather overawed by the occasion, and as she admitted later, bemused that she should be there amongst all those top academics and leading representatives of the Nation's Artistic Establishment.

To be quite frank, I was glad when the evening was over, and we were able to escape back to Lacy's suite. I was glad that she had agreed to be my companion, but also worried that she might be discouraged from allowing our relationship to go any further. When we got back to her suite, she kicked off her pumps, and sat down on the sofa with her feet curled up under her. I opened the refrigerator and poured us each a glass of champagne, before sitting down beside her. "A toast," I said, raising my glass, "to a beautiful and remarkable lady who did me the greatest honor by consenting to be my companion this evening."

She blushed most becomingly,. "I am the one who is honored," she replied, "I hadn't realized that you were such an eminent and important person, while I'm just a rather ordinary middle aged woman."

"Nonsense," I said, for the second time that evening, and smiled. "It would have been so tedious without you, all those pompous men, and their boring speeches.

My feelings at that moment were a curious mixture of tenderness and desire. Lacy is a beautiful woman, and part of me wanted to make love to her very badly, but at the same time I felt a hesitancy that I had never know in any of my affairs over the years. Deep down I realized that this was something different, something more than mere lust. Not knowing Lacy's feelings, I didn't want to give her the idea that this was just a one night stand, or worse, scare her off completely.

I was gently stroking her hair while I was speaking, and when I had finished my little speech, I took her glass and put it down on the table with mine. Lacy looked so lovely that I could not resist kissing her, and cradling her chin with my hand, I turned her face towards mine, and softly kissed her on the lips. We kissed for a several minutes, gently at first, but then more deeply and passionately, our breaths mingling, and our tongues exploring each other. Lacy tasted so sweet, and her lips so warm and soft against mine that I would have been content to go on kissing her for much longer still. However, it was Lacy who took the initiative, and she told me later that she knew that she wanted to make love to me after that morning when I visited her house. Women are so much more in tune with their emotions, I suppose, and when they make a decision, much faster to commit themselves than me.

When we eventually came up for air, slightly breathlessly, Lacy excused herself, saying that she needed to go to the bathroom. When she returned she just took my breath away, looking so beautiful and desirable in a pale green silk negligee. The look of invitation in her eyes, sparkling with love and desire, and the sight of her beautiful mature loveliness, barely concealed by the soft material, drove any reservations I might have had from my mind, and I wanted to kiss and caress every inch of her body. I knew in that moment that I was falling hopelessly in love with her, and that I must have her, not just this one night, but forever.

My mind was in a delicious turmoil, with feelings of physical arousal and a deep longing to love and care for this woman all jumbled together. I could hardly get my clothes off quickly enough in the urgency of my desire. I managed to take off my jacket and remove my bow tie easily enough, but my passion made me clumsy, and I struggled with my shirt studs and cuff links, and Lacy had to help me. All the time, she was kissing my face, and when she removed the last stud, she slipped her hands inside my shirt to caress my chest, making my nipples harden as she ran her hands over them. After a struggle, I managed to get out of the rest of my clothes, although I almost fell over taking off my dress trousers, which made her giggle girlishly.

We made love for first time there on the sofa, and it was truly wonderful, a time of exquisite joy and mutual ecstasy. If anything, Lacy's passion was even greater than mine, and she showed no hesitancy in letting me know what gave her the greatest pleasure. Most miraculous to my wondering mind was the way our physical union seemed so complete, as if our souls had also become one in our moment of rapture, as Lacy said, it was almost mystical the way she felt completely whole in my arms.

Later, as we lay there, blissfully relaxed in each other's arms, murmuring endearments to one another, I felt like a man returning home after a long voyage. The world was somehow brighter, illumined by the light of this woman who had entered my life so unexpectedly and thawed my frozen heart. Eventually, we did make it to the bedroom, so I got to sleep in a luxury king size bed after all. The remainder of the night was spent sleeping, waking and being drawn to one another for more wonderful lovemaking. And finally, as I lay there in the grey light of early dawn with Lacy sleeping peacefully in my arms, her head on my chest, I knew that I truly believed that this could be the beginning of a new chapter in my life, filled with hope that one day we might even become more than lovers. Now that we are married, every day I look in wonder at Lacy's beloved face, and thank fortune for the chance circumstance that brought us together.

Chapter 4 - Our Marriage and Honeymoon

After that weekend we started dating regularly. Sometimes we would go to a concert, or take in a show, followed by dinner at a nice restaurant. At others we would just walk in the park hand in hand, just like a pair of teenagers. We didn't move in together for some time, but would either spend the night together at her place or mine. Our love making continued to be as wonderful as that first night, and Lacy began to bloom like a lovely rose. I filed for divorce on the basis of estrangement from my wife, and then one weekend in early spring, I went down on one knee and asked her for the honor of making her my bride. As soon as my divorce came through, we had a quiet wedding, with just a few of our closest friends as guests.

In the weeks before the wedding we talked about where we should go for out honeymoon, and together we decided on Europe. It was a grave temptation for me to try and cram in as many of Europe's multitude of galleries and museums as possible, and to dazzle Lacy with my knowledge. This was her honeymoon, however, and not an opportunity for me to show off, and there would be many years ahead of us to explore the riches of that continent, and its centuries of history. For her first trip to Europe, indeed her first time outside of the United States, I planned for us to fly to Paris for a week, and then to hire a car and make our way in a leisurely way down through France and into Italy as far as Rome, before returning to Paris by way of the Loire valley and its world renowned chateaux.

In Paris we visited the Louvre, which was a bit exhausting, although it is laid out far better than when I first went there as a fifteen year old. Of course we had to see Leonardo's Mona Lisa, which was surrounded by the usual throng of tourists, many of them taking selfies with their smart phones and tablets. In the same gallery, however, there were other, equally great masterpieces, by Leonardo and other great Italian Renaissance masters, none of them attracting more than a handful of art lovers. Lacy was particularly struck with a small painting by the Italian Renaissance artist Domenico Ghirlandaio, depicting a moment of tenderness between an old man with a warty nose and a child, the gentleness of the man's expression giving the picture a special emotional quality.