Postal Pleasures

"Yes, exactly. John handled things differently than you. You'd confront them directly and in no uncertain terms tell them to shove their money, because that's who you are. You see life from the perspective of black and white, with smidgens of gray. John was a gentle and forgiving man, and he hated confrontations. I stopped attending his fundraisers altogether. He was very thoughtful and gentle with me. Although I still loved him, towards the end, he lost all interest in sex and intimacy. His research became an obsession which affected his health. John was true to his wedding vows though, as were you."

"I meant everything I said about your playing, Mary, We like many of the same things. Music, and antiques, to name a few."

"Don't forget dancing, kissing, and fucking Michael?" And she reached down and lightly touched my manhood, "I adore being with a man who is not intimidated or turned off by my exuberance. I've never made love like that before. I like it slow and gentle too, though, and getting my pussy licked, by you."

"You know, Honey, after experiencing your exuberance, first hand, I desire you more than ever. I'll give it to you any way you want it, after that amorous and salacious blowjob, and the way you use your hair while sucking on my cock. It is a diametric contrast when you dress conservatively in a silk blouse and modest skirt, and definitely with your hair up,

You instinctually comport yourself as a Lady. As ex-military I know. It's in your bearing and posture. Not that you won't stand up for yourself as you demonstrated when you slapped me. You were practically naked. You're a little spitfire, and still, I can't imagine you saying fuck, let alone any profanity in public."

"Thank you, and you never will, although, "Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer." So said, Mark Twain, and add literature to our list of what we have in common. We can attend the theatre together, and you will fit in just fine with my book discussion groups. How did you know they were South Sea Pearls I was wearing?"

"There is a story regarding white pearls. I heard it from an honest man who sold me a necklace of them. He said when God cast Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden, their tears became pearls."

"I never heard that story. My Grandmother called them mermaid tears. The pearl earrings were originally my great-grandmother's and passed down until they came to me. There is something special about wearing jewelry with a history. Take estate jewelry; I believe they have a small part of the essence, of the woman who wore them that adds to their luminescence. All the good qualities, the love, and the joy shared of the woman who wore the jewelry to be passed on and shared." I was thinking; 'Mary is a woman after my own heart. She will treasure any gift I gave her, no matter how big, or how small.'

"How do you feel about motorcycles? Do you want to be my biker babe, and ride with the wind in your hair?"

"Do you have a scoot?" She asked, "I assumed those days were behind you?"

"Scoot? It sounds like you've ridden before?"

"Not in years, I still have my license, though, and I'd love to be your biker babe."

THE TIME PASSED QUICKLY, and it was soon, Summer, our Summer of Love. There was no denying I loved Mary, or her me. I built her a curved redwood bench that went around the circumference of the elm tree for Missy's grave, with a bronze plaque commemorating her friend and companion.

We spent our nights together, taking turns, her house and then mine. Mary rode on the back of my Harley, day trips when the weather permitted, and loved walking my property, and our private picnics at the pond.

We took my Harley and spent a Sunday morning in August at a mega-outdoor flea-market. It was going to be a scorcher that day, and we planned to go swimming in the pond, followed by a picnic, a nap, or perhaps something other than a nap, ending with a nap. I had a surprise for Mary, that day for she delights in the little things I do for her. I trimmed the two largest weeping willow trees next to the pond to create a bower, and I installed a large rope hammock between the trees knowing how much she likes to cuddle, and me too. It would be our private retreat to catch a cool breeze and escape the summer heat.

Mary and I were in the kitchen preparing for our late afternoon picnic when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she offered, "I still need to get the small ice chest out of my Jeep," and shortly after Mary called out, "Michael, you have a visitor."

I went to the front room, to discover my ex-wife, Sally was standing there staring at Mary with an incredulous look on her face. That look was followed by another that could curdle and sour a tanker truck full of fresh cold milk when I put my arm around Mary's slim waist and introduced her to Sally as my Lady.

Admittedly, compared to Sally, Mary looked stunning, with her hair swept up in a loose bun. She was wearing an airy pale-yellow lace trimmed Pima cotton sundress to compliment her trim and lithe figure. She was also barefoot at the time and was sensibly makeup-free because of the heat. I did know from a reliable source; the boyfriend dumped Sally when the money ran out, and she lost her nursing license for a year by falsifying a medical log. Lance hooked up with an eighteen-year-old nursing student.

I won't describe what my ex-wife was wearing, except to say it wasn't becoming on her. Sally had gained weight and looked bloated, despite her artificial indoor tan. Her recent lip augmentation injections were a disaster. Sally's lips were ridiculously large and clown-like. She had cut her shoulder length light brown hair in a short, spiky pixie with a side part on the right and an under shave on the left. It was also bleached platinum blonde with neon green and pink streaks. As for her makeup, let's say Sally's makeup was as glaring, without consideration to her age.

Mary politely excused herself and made a graceful exit to get the ice chest, leaving us in the front room. I invited Sally to sit down, and shortly after, Mary brought out a tray with a pitcher of ice water, lime wedges, and two glasses before returning to the kitchen.

I didn't comment on Sally's appearance. I was calm and dispassionate, as I sipped my ice water. Sally did all of the talking. She was well rehearsed and spent an hour describing and embellishing in chronological order the dating highlights before, and those of our marriage. She said she still loved me and wanted us to get back together. She was contrite and repentant. She had big plans for us and made promises she couldn't keep. She asked me to forgive her, and then I spoke for the first time.

"Sally, I was very bitter when you betrayed me. I've made peace with God. I'm at my center again. I forgive you, and I wish you well. I have a new love in my life. Save your breath and save my ears. Now for the good news. Bob Hanley from the Homestead Resturant owes me a solid for work I did for him. I'm sure Bob will give you a job until you get your Nursing License back. You were waitresses when I met you and a good one."

I made the telephone call in front of her, and when I thanked Bob and said goodbye, it was a done deal. Encouraged, Sally asked to borrow five-thousand dollars to get back on her feet. I declined, congratulated her on her new job, and firmly escorted Sally to her mother who was waiting in my driveway in a parked car. Mary was standing outside on the porch, watching as they drove away.

When I went back to the porch, Mary asked, "Was that your ex-wife?"

"Yes, Sally, and her mother, Betty. Did you catch any part of our conversation?"

"Yes, beginning with I made peace with God. I liked the part when you said, 'Save your breath and save my ears.' That's one of my Dad's favorite expressions."

I took both Mary's hands and kissed them, and said, "I only have eyes for you, Honey, and I have a surprise for you when we get to the pond."