Quicksilver

Nate led me through parts of The City I had never seen before, or only from a distance... a journey of discovery in my own backyard! Parks, hills, and twisty neighborhoods drew my eye. I sketched and painted frequently. Nate had his tenor 'uke to provide flavor.

All this exercise keeping us sleek meant we would only need the gym's pool most evenings. In bed, Nate kissed my sore biking muscles and other juicy bits. I only howled a little.

=====

Tickets awaited us Sunday at The Boarding House for the Demons' show. Feeny saw us and waved us backstage. All the band hugged us.

"Nate, we've played for years," Mick said, "we think we know what we're doing. But fuck-ola, we have NEVER sounded this good! You are a wizard, man!"

"And these are only prototypes? Holy fuck," Rolf said. "Go into production with these and I guarantee, every working group in the country will drool for them. But watch out for cheap Japanese knockoffs."

I smiled. "My old law firm will drool over the prospect of patent infringement lawsuits."

"Enough now," Signe said. "Go grab your seats and see how great we sound."

Yes, they sounded great. Yes, they bought the prototypes. Everyone was happy.

===== the rest of the summer =====

We fell into a rhythm, knowing it would change when Nate's SF State courses took much of his time. I painted portraits Mondays and Wednesdays with Nate on hand, diagramming circuits or writing songs. He kept another tenor 'ukulele at the rented studio.

On other days we biked up and down the coast, except for occasional weekend events at Argo's galleries, or more car-painting sessions. Our corporation lent gift vehicles from such sessions to our management team for personal use; thus Open Services LLC did not need to store or maintain them. Clever, are we not?

We spent time at the gym, and at Maxwell's Demon shows (with Nate sometimes playing), and on the waterfront, and otherwise enjoying ourselves. That means lots of lovemaking. I felt like we were one spirit in two bodies; but two bodies were definitely involved in fucking.

All was not well. Señor Figueroa was an old cat now, and less lively, and he slept a lot. One morning he did not wake up. I was useless for a week afterward; I drank and puffed too much. But I was not yet ready for a kitten. I needed to cherish memories first.

I hated to admit that Figgy's passing freed us for bike camping. Nate led us down the coast to a World War II lookout tower on a clifftop above Devil's Slide one afternoon. We swung around the chain-link fence, locked the bikes at the tower's base, hauled our light packs to the top, and anchored the old small tent to the open meshwork flooring.

"I was up here once and didn't have the tent tied down," he said. "A strong wind caught the sucker and blew it right over the edge. It's probably in Peru by now."

Waves crashing on the rocks below drowned traffic noise. Sips and puffs relaxed us. We made love with the tent rippling in the wind and the tower rocking slightly. I howled my orgasms in perfect safety.

We stayed on that dramatic tower for two nights. I started healing then.

Nate won acceptance in all SF State programs he applied for. He will major in electronics, minor in liberal studies including more guitar classes, and he also made the swim program, which will fill his Saturdays. He is a bit old for a swimming star but he will do fine, I know it!

===== the rest of the year =====

Nate was busy with school six days each week; we had only Sundays to ourselves unless I accepted limited 'events'. I scheduled portrait sittings for weeknights when he could be in the rented studio but now those were mostly for sketches or photo shoots that I would paint the next day. Notables from near and far still wanted a portrayal by L.Barnes. I remained a star.

Nate wrote more songs for the Demons but had little time to play with them. A couple songs they recorded were regional hits. The 'Holiday' royalties spiked as each public day neared.

Captain (now Major) Jason Neary's tedious West German deployment was over; Lyn drove him, Lori, and Larry up for a long Thanksgiving weekend. They loved our new home, and my fresh paintings, and the Maxwell's Demon show at Winterland. Jason and Lyn were awed to be hugged by their musical heroes while the kids giggled at a backstage rendering of 'Anty Lidee's Song'. The band was proud to sit for a fast portrait with the song's muses. I would paint free versions for all, of course.

Lori and Larry missed Figgy nearly as much as I did. We cried together and put flowers and beads on his backyard grave.

=====

Nate and I took a long Winter Solstice break in Mendocino without drama. After a Christmas Eve evening of torrid lovemaking, we showered and lounged in bed.

As we almost dozed, Nate said, nearly off-handedly, "Hey babe, want to get married one of these days?"

I did not stop to ponder. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I do."

I felt him slip into sleep. I could not close my eyes all night. I laid my head on his chest, felt his warm breath, his lungs working, his heart beating, and yes, joy and fear swept over me.

I must have slept eventually because I woke when he left the bed to pee. I followed him, and returned to bed.

"Did you mean that?" I dared to ask.

"Well," he yawned, "I know I wasn't really romantic, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the right time. So, are you up for getting hitched?"

"Yes yes yes yessss," I hissed, and threw myself on him.

"You sure?" he asked.

I twisted and sucked his cock as far down my throat as I could. I took a breath and looked up to his face.

"Damn sure," I said, and returned to fellatio. He stiffened sufficiently; I rode him like a cowgirl.

"Yes yes yes yessss, damn damn damn sure, oh fuck yes," I cried, bouncing on him, my breasts swaying until he mouthed and fondled me. "Oh damn oh damn oh damn, yes yes yessssss..."

I calmed after I felt him erupt inside me. I fell on him and held him tighter than ever.

"Yes," I repeated, "but when?"

"I have an idea," he said.

We had more immediate ideas. I blew him back to stiffness and he fucked me for a long time.

=====

I fretted a little later. That was my nature.

We lunched at a garden eatery near our B&B. I put my teacup down and held his hands.

"Nate, my lover, hy heart, my life, are you sure you want an old broad like me? I'm old enough to be your unwed mother. I've got—"

"You've got sixteen years on me," he interrupted, "and in another twenty-six years we'll both be just past our primes, you a sleek and sexy sixty-four, and me tottering along at forty-eight. Men don't last as long as women, y'know, so we'll stay equivalent. Oh, by the way: I love you."

He squeezed my hands. I nervously squeezed back.

"Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?" I could not help myself there.

"Bet on it," he said, and squeezed harder.

"Do you want kids? I'm getting too old for kids." I feared his answer.

"If you want kids then I want kids. I think I'll be ready for fatherhood when I finish at SF State in a year and a half. Think you can stay on The Pill for another year?"

"I should probably see an ObGyn before I commit but yes, I think I can handle motherhood. Yes, I want kids. I want YOUR kids. They can have cats and puppies and birds and lizards and..."

"And they'll probably be as sharp as my niece and nephew. Trouble, trouble, trouble."

I slapped his shoulder. "Most likely. But when? When should we get legal?"

"Like I said, I have an idea."

===== Valentine's Day 1975 =====

The wedding and the reception's first stage were in our house's big backyard. Family, our work friends and corporate crew, plein air painters, gym rats, even Maxwell's Demon and Wilona 'Legs' Smithers, all managed to squeeze in; we paid airfares for those more distant. One surprise was an unknown daughter from Nate's first marriage. How would they develop?

Milla and our parents, cousins, and aunts and uncles showed up, as did Nate and Lyn's... a vast family reunion, with friends, all crowded together in a grand melange of memory and merriment.

The Unitarian Fellowship's marrying-burying guy officiated. Both our mothers passed out when we said, "I do"... probably amazed that we were doing something right with our lives.

The reception began in the yard with cookies and fruit juices to wash down the congratulations. Then we passed out swimsuits; and we all, the preacher and Mr Salman too, walked to the gym for a pool party with cake, wine, juices, only a little splashing, and much echoing laughter.

Nate had wanted the wedding ceremony in the pool too but I feared that many would strip, and would strip us, too. No, not prudent. This was our compromise. I was relieved.

We finally abandoned the locals, gave our house over to family, and flew to our honeymoon cottage on the black sands of Kaua'i island, Hawai'i. We swam modestly in the warm waters lapping at the cottage's beach. I knew Nate would acquire handcrafted 'ukes. I would undoubtedly exude paintings. Why change?

EPILOG

===== Valentine's Day 2000 =====

Almost 26 years together on our 25th anniversary! Now I am indeed a sleek 64, and studly young Nate at 48 still needs me and feeds me. Our difficult daughters Wendi and Alicia and their bright husbands and lively kids — my grandchildren! — and Lori's and Larry's families, and Nate's daughter Erin's family, and surviving elders, all celebrated with us in our lush backyard filled with flowers, and cats, and the weird sculptures Nate carved.

Then most of us walked to the gym for a private family skinny-dip hour, a helluva anniversary fest! Nate and I looked okay in our decrepitude while Julia and Romero were amazing, over a decade older than me, but fit from endless exercise. They are our role models.

===== Valentine's Day 2020 =====

Our noisy families, all those generations, came to celebrate with us on our 45th anniversary, but no skinny-dipping now. Not that we look bad; we don't want to shame or intimidate them with our fit, toned bodies, hah! I am a somewhat crinky 84 and young Nate at 68 is starting to slow down after retiring from his electronics enterprise, but our sex is still damn good. And I do not need a stair hoist yet.

I still paint. Nate no longer designs circuits but he still carves and writes and goes a-busking on the waterfront but now plays with a slide as his fingers are clumsier, except when pleasing me.

We hear of a new virus going around but we will beat that. This is a good life.

===== The End =====

Author's note: This scribbling is copyright © 2021 by Hypoxia Smurf. Many thanks to 29wordsforsnow and RandyD1369 for eagle-eyed beta-reading. Any remaining typos and defects are totally my fault. Constructive comments are always welcome. If you like this VALENTINES DAY 2021 contest entry, join the 1%ers and VOTE, dammit!