Pumpkin Spice

After thanking Mrs. Vallardi and going to dinner with Nita and Ron, we hit the road for the long drive home since the following day was back to school for Connie and back to work as usual for me. When we got to her house, I walked her to her door where there was no hesitation this time; we held each other tight and kissed for several minutes before I told her goodnight and excused myself, hoping she hadn't noticed the problem I was experiencing in my khakis. However, from the smirk she wore as I turned away, I'm pretty sure she'd noticed.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Connie and I continued seeing each other when we could and, like in any small town, word got around.

With the silage harvest having finally wound down and the first frost coming soon, I was catching up on some other issues around the farm and generally getting home a little earlier in the evening so I could take care of some little home improvements when I wasn't going out to see Connie. Therefore, I parked the tractor in the shed one Wednesday evening and walked toward the house only to see a car in the driveway.

"Maxine's car?" I muttered. I took off my boots in the back mudroom and entered the kitchen to see Mom and Maxine sitting at the table with coffee in front of them. Mom had always liked Maxine from the start of our dating despite never caring for her "awful brother." Even after I broke up with her, Mom still called her Maxie and usually talked to her for a while at the store.

"Hi, Ken," said Mom. "You have a visitor. I'll step out so you kids can talk."

Mom's in great shape for being over 50 and she showed it here, escaping from the kitchen in practically a flash. I scowled behind her, more about Mom letting Maxine in the house than still being called a kid at almost 29 years of age. I tried to soften my look as I turned to Maxine.

"Hi, Ken. I heard that you're dating the new English teacher. Is it going well?"

"It's none of your business, Maxine, but yeah, it is."

"Can't you call me Maxie, for old time's sake?"

"No, Maxine. That Maxie, my Maxie, is dead to me, and if you were smart, you'd let it go, forget it and move on. Word is, you haven't had a date since we broke up."

As soon as I said it, I realized that my words were even harsher, even crueler than I intended, but I didn't like being ambushed in my own home, even if Mom still owned half of it. However, seeing the hurt on her face, I regretted the jab as soon as I said it for despite not having dated for over three years and never wanting to go out with her again, I still cared about her as a person. "Maxine, I'm so sorry—"

"Good, but you don't need to be, Kenny. See, I did move on. It took longer than it should have, I'll admit, but I did. You may have heard that I've been taking business classes at the community college over in Bledsoe for the past couple of years, but what isn't known is that I met someone there. We started dating but we kept it secret from my family since I didn't want my brother sabotaging our relationship like he always tried to do with ours. Everything went so well until a couple of months ago.

"Darren was from Indianapolis and he graduated in May so it's been tougher to see him since then, but he found a job in Louisville in July. We celebrated one night and the next morning he told me he wanted to end it before he moved. We talked over breakfast and I could see he wasn't going to change his mind so I broke up with him right then and walked out. I wasn't going to be his fucking cum dumpster for another month if our relationship wasn't going anywhere in the long run."

Her pain and anger were obvious and I felt terrible for her. She'd always loved sex, loving and passionate, fast and furious, and most anything in between. She'd always been great in bed, too, giving as good as she got, but I remembered that she had some boundaries that I'd always respected. That Darren-asshole, I suspected, must not have if she was talking like that.

I reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Ouch, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. That bites, you deserve far better. But, I'm sorry to have to say this, you know that rebounding from him back to me isn't going to happen, right?"

"Are you sure, Kenny? I don't think you even noticed but you just called me 'sweetheart,' the first time anyone's done that since the two of us broke up. The whole time I was seeing Darren, I felt like something was off, that he didn't treat me as well as you did, but we got along well enough that I could live with it. Then he proved how much of a jerk he was when decision time came." She was fighting tears as she added, "Kenny, all he had to do was ask me to come with him and I think I'd have agreed, but no. I guess he sensed something was off, too, or else he'd been playing me the whole damn time."

I'd wanted to let go of her hand but she needed comfort and holding her hand was better than hugging her and recalling what that did to me. I gave her hand another comforting squeeze and then broke free without making it too obvious. I hoped.

Maxine didn't seem to notice. "But look at the two of us, Kenny. Remember how we used to be? We loved each other and we were really good together when I wasn't acting—what was your term?—'like an entitled brat?' I took those words, as much as they hurt, to heart, Kenny, and I've matured a lot over the past few years as a result. Are you sure you don't want to give it another chance? After all, we have history and we have roots here, but your English teacher doesn't and she may not want to stay around Podunk forever. "

"Maxine," I said deliberately, avoiding falling back into the familiar 'Maxie' of old, "I'm glad you've grown up or whatever—"

The last part of her comment, trying to sow doubt in my mind about Connie, stuck in my craw and made me question whether she really had matured after all.

"—and I wish you all the happiness in the world, but, no, it won't be with me. Yes, I still care about you for what we had and the time we spent together, but not in the way you want. I think I've found something special with Connie, maybe even something permanent, so I want to give it every chance to work, but even if I hadn't, my answer would still be the same. I've moved on, Maxine, and I don't want to make the mistake of going back and finding out I'm only getting burned again. That means I'm sorry but the answer is no and that you need to leave now."

She sighed. "I figured as much because that sounds like you, but I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't taken a chance and said my piece. I wish you well, Kenny, and hope you two are very happy together."

Her comment surprised me, making me wonder if maybe she'd really matured after all? I didn't have time to dwell on it though because Maxine rose from her chair and took her coffee cup to the sink and washed it before putting it in the drying rack. When she turned back toward me, I was ready to hold her off if she tried to kiss me goodbye, but she nodded and gave me a wistful smile before walking toward the front door. Moments later, she was gone.

***

Despite what I'd said, Maxine's visit and her comments raised some doubt in my mind, which made my time with Connie over the next couple of weeks feel more tentative than I expected. I wanted to be sure about wanting us to get to know each other better—and we were doing that with each call and each date—but the little remark about Connie being happy in Deerfield over the long term bothered me more than I expected it would.

"Connie, do you like it here?"

She frowned at me. "That's a strange question. Of course I do. I love my job, I love my kids, and, well, I like you a lot. What's not to like?"

"We're so small and I just worry about you coming from the city that it might not be enough for you. Look at your friend Nita. She even lives in Chicago."

Her frown turned to a chuckle. "Chicago's a nice place to visit, but I would never want to live there like Nita. As for home in Indy, well, when I need to go see my parents or whatever, it's a two-hour drive for a visit, for shopping, or for a real pizza—tell me, how does Paul's Pizza stay open? That place is terrible—so it's not like we're on Mars. Besides, I haven't had any trouble getting deliveries out here either, though I think I may be spending more time online browsing than I used to do in actual stores. None of that really matters though if you think about it."

"Why?"

"Because this guy—I think he's my boyfriend, though he hasn't actually asked me yet— is here and wherever he is is where I'm happy."

She cupped my face with her hands and we came together for a kiss that relieved a lot of my doubts. Five minutes later, I really was her boyfriend and she was my girl.

***

We drove to Bledsoe for our dinner date the weekend before the Halloween costume ball. When I walked her to her front door on our return, she unlocked it as she always did before turning back to me to kiss me goodnight. This time, though, there was no kiss; she took my hand and pulled me inside instead.

As soon as the front door was closed, I found myself pinned to her front door, my sweet, rather demure school teacher suddenly having her inner fires stoked beyond belief. Between kisses and her pulling my polo shirt out of my pants, she breathed, "Ken, do you want to take me? Upstairs?"

I wasn't sure if that was two questions or a single disjointed one, but I didn't care either way. The answer was "Yes!" to one or both, so at just shy of 6-feet tall and still as strong as when I played for the Bucks, I scooped her up, all 125 pounds of her, and carried her up the half-flight of stairs with her arms around my neck, kissing me the whole way. She pointed me to the right door when we reached the little hall at the top and I let her down by her bed.

Our clothes came off at a furious pace between kisses, and I gasped when her sweet breasts came into view. Perfectly formed (C-cups, I suspected), they were capped with pert, pink erasers with a cute little surrounding shield no larger than a quarter around each. With her glasses and how she kept her hair styled, I grinned, thinking how perfect they looked on her.

And, a moment later, how nice one felt in my lips, too. Connie moaned as I cupped her tit and gently sucked her nipple between them. "Oh, Ken, please, take me. I need you."

Two questions, I decided, and the answer was still "definitely yes." I flipped the covers back and eased her down into her bed, stopping for only a moment to grab the condom I'd recently started carrying in my wallet again for the first time in a long time. She took it and ripped it open with her teeth while I slid her thong down her legs. She'd mentioned running before and her smooth, perfectly shaped legs made me believe it.

When I knelt between her legs, she took my dick in her hand and pumped it a couple of times, grinning in anticipation. "Very nice. I can't wait to get this in me." She pulled me down so my lips met hers again as she rolled the rubber down my length.

When she let go, I raised back up to get a good look at her sex. She was completely bare except for a little rectangle above her hood, showing puffy lips on the sides that had pulled apart a bit to reveal her hood. I stroked each side with my thumbs and opened her up a bit more to show small and delicate inner labia lips meeting at her tiny, covered clit.

"You're even more beautiful than I dreamed," I whispered. "And you shaved."

"No, waxed," she said. "Hurts like hell when I do it, but it's smooth as silk, lasts for weeks, and no ingrown hairs. Oh, and so sensitive, so, please, get in there!"

She positioned me and let me push in a little as she pushed her pelvis against me. A bit more and I stopped for a moment as the walls of her pussy relaxed to take me. She was moving against me, trying to force me in as I went deeper and deeper still. Then we touched.

"Ken, you feel so good in me." Her eyes closed and her head rolled back a bit as she started circling round me. We were moving together then, Connie moaning and me breathing, loving the sounds she was making and the look of anguished joy on her face.

I went slow and steady, watching her reactions and hoping to be able to build her up and give her what she needed, but it soon became obvious that I wouldn't last nearly as long as I'd liked. It had been almost two years since I experienced anything more than a five-finger mambo, so I felt my buildup coming all too fast. Hoping it would push her along, I went faster and faster, leading Connie to moan in time and, to my surprise, whisper such sweet but naughty little encouragements like "Fuck me, Ken" and "Don't stop" over and over.

She gave a big gasp as she came and I immediately exploded, wondering how I'd lasted as long as I had. Worried the condom was full to overflowing, I pulled out quickly after my last contraction and tied it off before settling in next to her and wiping a hair from her face so we could share a tiny kiss. She moaned and smiled, her eyes closed as if she was drifting off in her bliss so I gave her cheek a little kiss and removed the little black glasses she was still wearing. She gave a gentle moan and turned her head a bit to help with the glasses before taking my hand and pulling it around her to doze off the rest of the way.

We napped with me holding her like that for a while before I woke up to go to the bathroom. She woke up and walked me to the front door where we kissed one more time before I headed home, already looking forward to seeing her again.

***

We talked several times over the days that followed. We'd planned to get together on Thursday evening for dinner but a storm front came through and caused us to cancel when the power went out through much of the Deerfield area that evening and into the night.

I found a fence down the next morning where a tree fell and broke an old post at the base. The wires were still intact but partially rotated with the post, so I cut the tree off it, trying to avoid breaking them as I cut and pulled limbs out.

While pulling one, it slipped unexpectedly and I raked my hand into the wire with a barb slipping under the glove and slicing into the outside edge of my palm.

"Shit!" I cried out, in surprise almost as much as in pain. I went back to the truck, holding pressure on it to stop the bleeding. I added antibiotic ointment and slapped on a gauze pad before wrapping it tight, hoping the bleeding was really stopped.

With the injured hand hurting, the rest of the repair took twice as long as it should have, getting the rest of the tree off, setting a new post inches over from the broken one, attaching the wires to the new post, and then removing them from the old one. It was almost one when I made it to the house for lunch. As I drove up, I saw Mom on the back porch typing me a text message with caps, complete sentences, and proper punctuation.

At least that's what I suspected.

"Ken, you should go get Doctor Green to stitch this up," Mom told me after cleaning it more thoroughly and wrapping it back up.

"Mom, I've got a lot that I have to finish today so Freddie will be able to take care of everything this weekend in order for Connie and me to go to the Halloween party. If I go see Doc Green, you know it will take the whole afternoon, I won't get everything done, and I might not get to go. Connie will break up with me, we'll never get married, and you'll never have any grandbabies."

She gave me the patented "mom-frown" before nodding. "Okay, I'll shut up...but if you bleed to death, you won't get to go either," she replied with her usual flair for the dramatic. "And if you do, don't blame me." When I looked to make sure it wasn't bleeding again, it wasn't and Mom was smiling at having gotten me back.

"Ken, I'm serious now. Keep it well wrapped, okay?"

"Don't worry, Mom, I will.

***

We rented one room with a king-size bed for our trip to the Halloween costume ball. I'd asked about reserving two rooms when she first invited me, but Connie had patted my hand and said with a smile, "Ken, I don't think that's necessary." After what we did the weekend before the ball, she said, "I'm so glad you didn't get us two rooms!"

It was a huge event with people coming from all over so the ball was held on the Saturday night before Halloween. We left late that morning and drove from Deerfield to Chicago, taking nearly three hours but enjoying spending every minute of the ride with each other. We were riding in my pickup truck, but I'd emptied everything out of the bed and toolbox and had the truck serviced, cleaned, and detailed at the garage in Deerfield. Connie seemed right at home sitting in the middle right next to me the whole way. Her hand strayed to my leg where she stroked the inside of my thigh a single time before saying, "Keep that thought for later."

I'd probably driven another thirty miles before I calmed down.

We checked into the hotel in Chicago a little after three and went to meet Mrs. Vallardi at 3:30. She and her assistant had dressing screens set up in the back two corners of the hotel room; a connecting door was open to the adjacent room where the other costumes were stored.

After greeting us, she said, "We don't have a lot of time; the next appointment arrives at 4 so let's get started."

"Ken, on the questionnaire you filled out, you noted enjoying adventure books and movies, and Connie expressed interest in romantic periods so that's how I selected these for you. Pat?"

Mrs. Vallardi pulled back the screen to show me a 17th-century French musketeer costume with the blue tabard with a white fleur de lis cross, a white shirt and dark trousers, cuffed boots and gloves, and a period rapier with the basket-type cupped hilt. A leather bandolier and belt with a scabbard for the sword, a musketeer's hat, and a black eye mask completed the costume. In addition, there was a strange, champagne-colored scarf or something draped around the handle of the sword.

I didn't dwell on it, though, for as Mrs. Vallardi showed me my costume, her assistant opened the one on the left. Connie gasped, seeing a champagne-colored dress in the 17th-century style with its boned, low-cut bodice, flounced sleeves, and full skirt that would be absolutely lovely on Connie with her black hair. Her costume was completed with matching heels of the period, white lace gloves, and mask that matched her dress in color but mine in style.

Connie was practically breathless, saying only "Wow!" probably imagining how authentic it looked and how it would look on her. My mouth was hanging open, having expected something quite different and not nearly as elaborate. "Wow!" I echoed.

It was then that I noticed a parasol of the same cloth as her dress covered with white lace and a blue scarf, matching the color of my tabard, tied around the handle.

"Ah. Favors," I said, causing Mrs. Vallardi to smile and nod before saying, "No time for chatter. Let's make sure they fit."

Each of us stepped behind a screen and changed, with Mrs. Vallardi helping me and her assistant helping Connie. It took several minutes but when we were done, both of us stepped from behind our screen and looked as if we'd stepped back 300 years.

"Wow, you're more beautiful than I imagined," I told her, before thanking Mrs. Vallardi. Connie noted how handsome I was in my costume, and how much she looked forward to being escorted by such a fine gentleman.

I laughed and started changing back into my clothes while Mrs. Vallardi and Patty did a quick but very minor modification to the fit on Connie's. We were both dressed and about to walk out the door with our costumes in hanging bags at 3:59 p.m. when her 4 o'clock appointment arrived.

***

We were both excited as we made our way back to our room, with neither of us having expected anything looking nearly as authentic.