Que Sera Sera

Stooping down, she takes his cock in her hand and moves her lips close. Looking up, she says, "I haven't done this in ages. Are you okay with it?"

"I am indeed," he says, rubbing the top of her head. "Only don't take too long, I'd rather come inside you. Are you protected?"

She nods in the affirmative and then goes to "work," getting him rock-hard in the process, without going overboard. When she stands, she falls into his arms once again for another smooch, this one longer and more intense than the first, before taking the bottom position on his queen-sized bed and losing herself in the sort of tender eroticism he showed her on that autumn afternoon months ago in the Hilton Hotel. Then, as now, Ben is able to give her a second round. Now, as opposed to then, she isn't forced to hurriedly throw on her clothes and scoot home. Thinking out loud while cuddled in Ben's arms, she says, "Right now, I have no home. I feel so lost, Ben."

He gives her a reassuring squeeze and kiss. "It'll all work out, you'll see. Periods of transition are never easy." He pauses, then says, "Look, I know you're not big on religious faith, but I can't help but think of that line in Jeremiah where God tells the Israelites that he plans to restore them and send them back to Jerusalem from their Babylonian exile."

She's not surprised that Ben being Ben, one of the few Jews she knows that attends weekend synagogue services on a regular basis, would cite a biblical reference. She's far less devout, a confirmed cynic when it comes to religion. Any religion. "I should pray, is that your advice?"

He shrugs. "Not necessarily, just saying. There are parts of the bible that give me inspiration."

She wonders how Ben might feel if their roles were reversed. He's never been married; and maybe, like her, he'd think that inspiration would come in the form of a good lawyer as opposed to lines written in antiquity. She knows enough about the Old Testament to know that God, if there is such a being, doesn't take breaking his commandments lightly. She says, "God's already pissed off at me for committing adultery."

"God forgives. At least I hope so because I'm just as guilty as you are."

"He's more forgiving than Sam, I'd bet."

Ben holds his stomach and laughs. "I should think so. From what I know about Sam Greenwald, he's the antonym of merciful."

"And the synonym for vengeful." She presses her body closer to his and yawns. "Enough about Sam. Let's curl up and hit the hay. I'm ready for dreamland."

*****

Tuesday afternoon, right after he gets off work from the Social Security Administration, Ben decides to drop by What's In Vogue, Sheila-Ann's boutique. He could use a few new clothes, and it might be an adventure, shopping for something different than the preppie style outfits he normally wears. Ben's been to Hamilton Park, her shop's location, quite a few times, not to shop but to share a beer with friends at the Hamilton Tavern around the corner. He knows some of the history of this charming area that began as a summer resort just before the civil war and grew through the years to include an eclectic mix of architectural styles. The shopping district, only three blocks long, once quartered mill and railroad workers until it was rezoned for commercial use decades ago.

There's metered parking close to Sheila-Ann's shop, located in a green-painted, wood detached building with a hip style, slate roof, Victorian gingerbread trimmings and a small porch in front. He hears the jingle of bells attached to the door when he opens it. Sheila-Ann, though busy with a customer, smiles and waves. He waves back, while scanning the racks of clothing that take up both side walls and a portion of floor space. He steps up to the racks to get a better look at the merchandise, feeling the material and checking the prices. Most of what she sells here is a little offbeat for him, though he can see himself wearing a few of the jackets.

Ben is still looking after Sheila-Ann rings up her young female customer. "Thanks for stopping by, Ben," she says, walking up to him. "See anything you like?"

He nods, tells her a few of the jackets might work. She's close enough to where he can smell her perfume. No connoisseur of female scents, he has no idea what she's wearing, just that he finds it erotic as hell, though not nearly as erotic as the short, multi-colored print dress that hugs her shapely form as if it were sewed on. The sleeves cover three-quarters of her forearms, while the hem comes to a screeching halt at the middle of her slender, shapely thighs. He notices her shoes also, low-heel, shiny lemon-yellow things that strap over her feet.

She brushes back her long curly doo and purses her lips, painted with light pink lip gloss. "Well, I think you'd look grand in any number of them," she says, referring to the jackets. "I've sold quite a few of them to well-built guys like you. Boutique clothing has moved beyond its once traditional, skinny demographic."

"Not something I'd wear at work," he says, running his hands over the fine material. "But for a weekend night out, yeah, I can see it."

"And knowing Mindy's taste, she'd like it, too. She's purchased quite a few outfits from me." She removes the garment from its hanger. "Here, try it on for size."

He slips it over his blue button-down dress shirt, then steps over to the full-length mirror attached to the fitting room door. "Can't say it goes with these Glen Plaid pants I'm wearing."

"No, but it would look great with a pair of gray or tan slacks," she says, watching him move and twist. "And you look great in it." She feels under the armpits and around the back. "A little tight, huh?" He nods. "It can be taken out in those places, no problem." She tucks a hand under the jacket. "You're solid as a rock. Lots of muscle under there, I see."

Still facing the mirror with her, he smiles, enjoying the ego boost and this impromptu back rub. "Thanks, I work at it."

"I see that," she says, then slips her hands to his trapezius muscles. "Feel good?"

"It does. Does this come with the outfit?"

She chuckles. "Yes, but only with certain customers. You should know that I don't do this for everyone."

He wonders where she's going with this. Is she trying to sell him the jacket, seduce him or both? One thing's for sure, he's becoming aroused, both from the massage and her sexy beauty, and if it goes on much longer, he's afraid she might notice a bulge in his pants. "Okay, you sold me," he says. "I'll take it. The jacket, I mean."

"Great!" She pulls it off his shoulders. "I outsource my tailoring, which is built into the price. You should have it back within a week. Is that okay?"

He nods, follows her to the register and then slips her his credit card. As she's writing up a ticket, he says, "Thanks for the massage."

"You're very welcome," she says, not bothering to look up.

He knows he probably shouldn't ask but can't resist. "About the massage. You really don't do that for everyone?"

She stops writing and looks him in the eye, just inches from his face. "Actually, I lied. I've never done that with ANY customer. You're the first. And probably the last."

Her warm smile and blue eyes gazing into his, tell him that something other than doing business might be going on here.

Finally, she says, "Okay, I'll be candid. I sensed something between us the moment you came over to pick up Mindy. The vibe was unmistakable. The way you looked at me, the way I'm looking at you now. But I'm also a loyal friend, not one to steal or attempt to steal another friend's man."

Ben isn't sure how to respond. He can't deny the 'vibe,' especially the one tucked inside his pants that still tingles as they speak. "Mindy told me that you were between relationships and if I knew anyone who might be interested in you. I told her that most of my friends are married. What I didn't say is that I'd be interested myself if I wasn't seeing Mindy."

She nods and moves her face even closer to his. Her scent is driving him nuts, not to mention his overwhelming desire to kiss her. When he sees her close her eyes, he knows there's no holding back. And so, he closes the final few millimeters of space between them. It's nothing long or intense. But apparently, it's warm enough and delicious enough for her to drop her pen, step around the low partition and embrace him. Only moments into their smooch, the tingling between his legs quickly evolves into a full-blown erection. He pushes her curvy butt toward his crotch and she pushes back. He hears her moan, always a good sign that he must be doing something right. As if to prove it, she grabs his hand, then shoves it under her dress.

"Whew! I'm getting soaked. Feel this."

He does, slipping a finger inside her panties. "So you are."

Her knees buckle from his own massage inside a very private part of her anatomy. "Ohmygod, you're too much!" she cries, breathing heavily. She rubs her hand over his crotch. "I wouldn't mind finding out what this can do." She hikes her dress to her waist, and the grinding evolves into a furious dry hump, replete with noises, the grunts and successive whomp whomp whomp of clothed bodies colliding.

Ben knows where this will lead, and he wants so much to go there. Yet he also knows this is neither the time nor place, especially the former. Somehow, he summons enough self-control to back off, and so does she. She pulls away, grabs a handful of her hair and shakes her head. "Look, we'd better quit now before I do something I'll regret."

When she starts to sway, Ben reaches out and grips her arms to steady her. "Are you okay? I didn't mean for things to get out of hand."

She leans against the wood partition. "No, neither did I." She bends over to let more blood run into her head. Then: "Look, we might be on the verge of complicating an already complicated situation with Mindy. We're both very fond of her. Me, as a good friend, and you as a good friend with benefits. We don't want her hurt any more than she is. Needless to say, she's going through a rough time in her life, a vulnerable time."

Ben agrees, yet he knows that what just took place shows a potentially wonderful future with this impossibly sexy woman. "You're right. We should cease and desist our naughtiness." He grins, hoping she'll get the corny sarcasm.

She grins back and keeps smiling as she says, "Your jacket will be ready next week. Thanks for your, um, business."

*****

"It's always something," Sheila-Ann Hutton says out-loud, while locking up shop for the night. "Always some sort of glitch."

She refers to her relationships with men. She's had her share, has done all right in that department for a single gal pushing forty. But she's never been married, and she blames herself perhaps more than the guys she's been with for that. Too picky? Maybe. She doesn't know exactly. She's in no rush to get married, though she sometimes finds herself wishing she could find a "good" man to spend the rest of her life with. Mindy did, presumably, and look where she is. She's got other friends now divorced or on second marriages. Obviously, marriage isn't the key to happiness, if in fact any one key exists. Admittedly, Sheila-Ann is happier when she's involved with someone, when she and he are in sync, when there's mutual admiration going on. It's been awhile. She's between relationships per Ben's reminder, and she's ready for another one, and Ben appears like a good prospect. If only...Right, the big IF, another big IF in a history of big IFs.

Driving home in her mint-green Mini hatch, she thinks this whole situation would be hilarious if it wasn't so frustrating, grist for some screwball comedy on TV or in the movies. She's giving temporary shelter to a friend who just left an abusive marriage. The friend is involved with a guy that now Sheila-Ann has the hots for and he the hots for her. She laughs out loud, thinking what some talented script writer could do with this. As an opera fan, it reminds her of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro or Rossini's Barber of Seville—convoluted to a fault.

When she gets home, she finds Mindy dressed in PJs in the guest bedroom, sitting up on top of the twin-sized bed, her legs fully stretched in front of her, searching for local divorce lawyers and also apartments on her laptop. "This is a full-time job," she says, lifting her drugstore reading glasses.

"I bet it is," Sheila-Ann says, taking a peek at the screen. "Find anything? In either category?"

Mindy lowers her glasses to peruse some more. "Getting there, slowly but surely."

Sheila-Ann nods. "Hey, guess who stopped in today?"

"Melania Trump."

"Ha ha, I wish. No, it was Ben. He picked out a jacket."

Mindy again lifts her glasses. "Really?"

"Yep. It surprised me because, even though he had showed some interest when he was here, I didn't think he'd pay me a visit—and then actually buy something. I think you'll like it." She pauses, watching her friend surf her lists. "By the way, um, do you have plans to see him soon?"

"He called me during my lunch hour," Mindy says without looking up. "We made tentative plans for this weekend."

"Tentative?"

"Tentative, meaning we'll be seeing each other but haven't finalized what we'll be doing."

"Guess I can expect you to make it another overnight, huh?"

This gets Mindy's attention. She removes her glasses, chuckles, then says, "Well, I sure hope so. Why?"

"Oh, no special reason, just curious. You've got a good man there."

Mindy nods. "I think so too. Too bad I didn't marry a guy like Ben instead of that slobo I ended up with."

Sheila-Ann considers this, wonders if Mindy could be thinking long-term. "Do you see yourself getting serious with him?"

"Serious as in marriage, I guess you mean."

"Yes."

"Geez, I don't know. I mean, I'm not even legally separated, much less divorced. Plus, Ben's nearly forty and has never been married, never even been engaged, he told me. He's a good catch but apparently one that can't be caught. Another guy who can't commit, in other words."

Sheila-Ann sits on the edge of the bed. "Me and Ben are alike in that way. As you know, I've never been married either. Or engaged, for that matter."

"But you'd like to find someone to share your life with. You told me that yourself."

"True, but I guess I'm too picky, and perhaps that's Ben's problem also. I don't know."

"Well, whatever you do, don't settle. You see where that got me. Rachel's the only good thing that came out of my marriage. A huge thing, but still..."

Discretion, as Sheila-Ann knows, is the better part of valor. Still, she can't resist asking: "So what's he like in the sack?" Mindy's look of surprise makes her laugh.

Mindy lowers her head, looking a bit shy, but then she laughs. "Okay, to be honest, in a ten-point rating system, ten being highest, he's a fifteen."

"You're kidding!"

Mindy laughs harder. "You're right. Let me just say he's up there. He's not one of these selfish lovers who grabs all the gusto for themselves. He takes his time, puts his partner's sexual needs at least on par with his own. He's got great stamina, something I told a furious Sam because I was equally furious at the time." She pauses, notices how pensive, if not a bit distressed, her friend suddenly becomes. Then: "Sheila-Ann, not to be presumptuous, but are you sweet on Ben?"

Briefly, Sheila-Ann looks away. "Well, um, I find him attractive in certain ways, yes." She struggles not to reveal that with Ben, the feeling is mutual. "But look, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not about to try and lure him away from you or anything. He's your guy."

Mindy nods, digesting what Sheila-Ann just said. "You know, when we got in the car, Ben began asking about you, and I got the feeling that his interest was more than just casual. Be honest with me. Other than buying a jacket, did anything else go on between you and Ben at your shop?"

Her shoulders tense up before telling the lie she wishes she didn't have to tell. "Yes. We made passionate love in the fitting room. Come on, Min. He bought the jacket and that was that. He's your guy, like I said." Mindy's doubt, said with a narrowing of her eyes and tight-lipped skepticism, isn't hard to read. "You don't believe me."

"If you say nothing happened, nothing happened. Anyway, Ben's not exclusive property, not even my boyfriend in the sense that I've known boyfriends. He's a distant cousin that I've known for years that's helping me, as you are, through this difficult time in my life. So, if there is something between you two—and I'm only saying IF—feel free to see him. The only thing I ask is that you hold off until I get my own place. Which means I'd better get back to my search."

Sheila-Ann knows it's best not to say another thing, and so leaves Mindy to her laptop.

*****

Ben sits at his kitchen table eating Chinese carryout and thinking how his love life is either feast or famine. He's gone through long periods devoid of romantic prospects, and now this—two women with whom he shares a mutual interest. Sheila-Ann is right: don't do anything that would hurt Mindy during this vulnerable time in her life. Like Sheila-Ann, Ben would like to find a life-long mate, though he's seen enough unhappy marriages to know he might be sparing himself the grief that the institution can sometimes bring. Well, maybe it's not the institution itself, but the people who try it with partners who should have never tied the knot in the first place. Ergo, Mindy and Sam Greenwald.

If Mindy wasn't in his life, he'd explore possibilities with Sheila-Ann Hutton. Long-term, he sees her as a better prospect than Mindy because she carries less baggage—no past marriages and no kids. She's not Jewish, not a big deal if kids aren't involved. Besides, he doesn't want to marry her; he'd just like to get to know her better, something she appears amenable to if only she wasn't committed to Mindy, at least until she finds an apartment. Of course, Ben's got his own commitment to Mindy. 'We'll travel that long road together,' he had promised. Maybe he shouldn't have made that promise. Yet he did, and he intends to keep it, so long as Mindy needs him to.

Days later, he's in Sheila-Ann's living room to pick Mindy up for their date. Like last time, Mindy and Sheila-Ann greet him, though it's not quite déjà vu all over again. Ben feels a tension that wasn't there before. The room is aswirl in knowing, pregnant looks between the women and between Sheila-Ann and himself.

Mindy breaks the tension when she tells Ben that she's looking forward to seeing his new jacket. "Sheila-Ann's got nice stuff, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she sure does," Ben says. He and Sheila-Ann trade grins.

Then Sheila-Ann says, "As I told Ben, you've bought quite a few outfits from me."

Mindy nods. "Yes, like what I'm wearing now." She's attired in a cute blue and white flower print skirt and matching blouse. The skirt is hemmed a few inches above her knees.

Ben nods, thinks its sexy. "Well, we'd better get going," he says.

"Have fun guys," Sheila-Ann says as they prepare to leave. Then, addressing Mindy, she says, "Should I assume that you're out for the night?"

Mindy shrugs and looks at Ben. "Maybe."

"Probably," Ben says, catching Sheila-Ann's envious pout.

Minutes after they drive off to the Italian Kitchen in Little Italy, Mindy asks Ben, "How do you feel about Sheila-Ann?"

Caught off guard, he wonders if Sheila-Ann had said something about what happened at her shop. "How do I feel about her? Not sure what you mean."

"I mean, you know, do you find her...okay, I won't mince words. Do you think she's hot stuff?"

He laughs. She laughs too but it's more of a nervous laugh. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why, did she say anything?"