Recycling Emotions

Frank found her staring out the window just as the song ended and Sinatra'sFly Me to the Moon began to play. He walked over, and rested his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back and tucked her head under his chin. Their reflection was easy to see in the glass and their eyes met.

Neither one knew who moved first. Frank pressed his palms to her shoulders to turn her; at the same time she spun on her feet to face him. He took one of her hands in his and held it, while her other rested comfortably on his shoulder. Frank pulled her in tighter, and rested a palm on the small of her back.

He led the dance, taking them into the center of the room, where their rhythm and movements would not be hindered by the living room furniture. Sammy, the black terrier, lay on the couch, his dark eyes never leaving the swaying couple.

Eventually the song ended and another began.

Frank brought their movements to a halt and stared down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes held his. For a brief moment, each one saw the questioning look in the other's eyes. Frank lowered his head, while the hand on her back slid up her spine and rested against the nape of her neck.

Betty rose up on her toes, slid her fingers from his soft grasp and placed it behind his head. Her other palm moved from his shoulder to his chest. Their lips touched. His soft and firm; hers trembling.

Her small body felt even smaller as Frank wrapped her in his arms. He urged her to tilt her head back; she conceded, allowing him deeper access. His tongue swept over hers and urged her to taste him in return. The wet slick muscles danced back and forth; the desire slowly growing faster and faster, as Betty pushed herself closer to him, and he welcomed the pressure.

She felt his hand move under her blouse; the soft scrape of his nails dragging along her spine made Betty shiver softly. She moaned and whimpered as the firm digits slowly kneaded the muscles of her back.

Frank felt her shaking in his embrace, and knew it was not from fear, but growing passion. He slowed the kiss down, and moved his hand down her back, allowing it to rest on her hips.

"Don't stop, Frank," she whispered against his lips.

"I'm just slowing down, baby," he answered back.

She grinned and their kissing continued.

After several long moments, of hands running up and down arms, or pressing against back muscles, Frank pulled his mouth from hers. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before she buried her face in his chest.

Betty listened to the drumming of his heart. The rapid pace spoke to her, telling her that he too was affected by what had just happened. She grinned.

He took a deep breath, cupped her chin and stepped back to gaze down at her. "I can't do this to you," he told her.

She lifted one brow. "Do what?"

He shook his head. "Hold you. Kiss you. Desire you."

Subconsciously, she licked her lips. He groaned; she laughed.

"Why can't you?" she asked.

A long drawn breath followed by a heavy sigh was his answer. He dropped his arms and stepped back. "You're in a vulnerable place. You said so yourself -- you've lost your last living relative. You don't need a stranger coming in and seducing you."

Betty chuckled softly, the sound full of disbelief, not humor.

"What?" Frank asked. "Am I wrong? Do you need some lawyer from Florida, only passing through to carry you upstairs and make love to you and then disappear in the morning? Is that what you need?"

She stared back at him. "It's not about need, Frank, it's about want."

He took another deep breath. "No, it's about being responsible and smart. You don't want me; you just want to feel safe."

Betty shook her head, and turned away. She turned the radio off, and called for the dog; he immediately jumped from the couch and bounded after her.

"Betty, please...."

"Don't," she lifted her hand to ward off his apology or his reasoning behind his words. "I know you can cook, so if you don't mind make your own breakfast in the morning. I'll be at the shop, so I won't be able to wait on you. Don't worry though - your car is now my top priority. It'll be ready for you by the time you finish up in Philadelphia. What day will that be?"

Frank lowered his head, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back up to see her standing at the foot of the stairs. "I'm not all that important, I can come and go as I please for the most part - I'll be staying...."

"When will you be back?" she asked again. The tension and annoyance in her voice was evident.

"It's over on Wednesday - next week. I'll be back the following morning."

"Good, that gives me plenty of time. Goodnight and it was a pleasure meeting you." Betty headed up the stairs, with Sammy trailing after her.

He watched her leave and said nothing to stop her. After a few seconds the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut echoed through the house. Frank returned to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. It was cold and bitter, and did little to take his mind off the woman upstairs.

The following morning Betty was out the door, before Frank woke up, or so she thought. He had heard her moving around, but thought it better to leave her alone. He spent most of the night thinking of her. It took all his will power to keep his ass in bed, and not seek out her sweet kisses.

When he finally rose, it was with a heavy heart and the enthusiasm of his trip was nothing more than a memory. Frank packed his clothes, and headed downstairs. Betty had been kind enough to make a fresh pot of coffee, which he mentally thanked her for. He opted out of having breakfast, wanting and needing to put as much distance as he could between Betty and Elkton, MD.

He petted the dog, closed the door, locking it behind him. Once tucked behind the wheel, he took a moment to gauge the weather. Once more the rain was falling, and it looked to be another dismal day.

Frank drove through town, easing up on his speed when he approached Betty's shop. He wasn't surprised to see her truck, nor was she surprised to see the hustle and bustle of her employees. Betty, he knew, would work through the pain of her grandmother's loss, as well as the anger she felt toward him.

He hated having to play the adult with the young woman. He had wanted to peel off her clothes, lay her on the couch and show her how much he had grown to desire her. The thought of her lying beneath him, her arms and legs wrapped tight, her sex clamping around his shaft, made him groan in frustration. Frank shook his head, clearing the fantasy, and hurried toward the interstate.

An hour later he was entering Philadelphia and doing his best to concentrate on the day's activities. The first official day of Philadelphia's Earth Week hadn't started, but he had offered to arrive early in case an extra pair of hands was needed.

The day progressed for both Betty and Frank.

Betty found herself reminiscing with the boys of the shop and little work was done. A few locals came in and offered her their condolences, which she gracefully accepted. Whenever she found herself thinking of Frank and his kisses, she would kick the tire of his car. This had the three boys casting her questioning glances, none of which she answered.

When she returned home, it was later than usual. Her reasoning had been that there was more work to do at the shop, and no one was waiting for her at home. In the drive, though, was Frank's rental car. Her heart started to beat faster, as she got out of the truck and headed up the walk. Inside the house, she noted the aroma of some sort of casserole, most likely one that the ladies of the community had dropped off the day before.

She placed her keys on the table by the door, and slipped off her boots.

Frank stood with his back to her, his hands deeply submerged in soapy water.

"What are you doing here? And how did you get in?" she asked. "Didn't you lock the door when you left?"

"I did, but you, like many young people, left a key under the mat."

"And you're here because ---?"

"I'm here because you were right; there are no rooms left in that city, so I came back to where I knew I could find a soft bed, and a warm smile," he told her, as he turned to face her.

He grabbed a hand towel and dried his hands.

"Does Sammy smile?" she asked.

Frank smirked. "Yes, he does, but I was talking about yours."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll charge you for another night and you can sign the receipt later. I need to shower."

"It'll be ten more nights. It's only an hour drive up to the city, and an hour back. I'll be gone after you head to work, and be back late enough you won't hear me come in," Frank told her.

"Well, tomorrow is the funeral; do whatever you want. The money will be helpful in keeping this place up until I can sell it."

"I thought you might. It's too large for a young single woman. You need something smaller," Frank told her.

"Fuck you!" she shouted. "How dare you come in here and start telling me what I need to do and what is best for me! This house is perfect for me, but I'm so tired of living in a house full of dead memories that I'm ready to throw up! And you... you walk in here and tell me that you know best! Who the fuck are you, to me?"

Frank stared at her.

"You're right. I'm just a guy who showed up and I've been handling this all wrong. I'm sorry," he told her.

She shook her head. "I'm going to go shower." She glanced at the dog and his food bowl. "Thanks for taking care of Sammy."

Betty left Frank to his own devices. She reached her bedroom, shut the door and quickly peeled off her work clothes. Once safely tucked under the shower water, she tried to concentrate on other things, and not Frank Moretti.

After the shower, Betty wrapped a towel around her freshly scrubbed form, and headed back into her bedroom.

Frank stood in the center of the room.

"I lied," he told her.

"Lied?"

"I could have found a room; the Committee had reserved rooms for speakers. I just wanted to come back here and stay with you," he admitted.

She stared back at him. "Why, to take care of me, to make sure I'm all right?"

"Yes."

"I'm fine, Frank. I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I'm not your daughter. I don't need a daddy to see to my needs," she told him.

He stepped closer, and touched her cheek. "I don't want to be your dad." Frank lowered his head and captured her lips.

The kiss was gentle, but quickly grew in passion and desire. Betty wrapped her arms around him, as he pulled her against his body. She tilted her head, shoved her tongue deep into his mouth and tasted the coffee he'd drunk earlier.

Frank pulled his lips off hers, and buried kisses into the crook of her neck. Her towel began to slip. He held it to her back, and kept it on her by wedging it against him. "Betty, oh sweet Betty, I thought of you all day. Your kisses," he pressed his lips to her forehead, "the feel of you in my arms as we danced," he kissed the lids of her eyes, "I don't just want you Betty, I need you." He captured her mouth and brought both of his hands to her head.

Betty whimpered. Her fingers moved to his hair, and she pushed the digits into the thick mess of waves. Her body tingled as he trailed his lips over her skin. The knot of the towel dug into her chest. She reached between them and freed it. Within seconds the towel fell to the floor, and she was stepping over it, pushing her naked body against Frank.

The feel of her soft flesh under his hands was almost Frank's undoing. He ran his hands down her spine, gripped her ass and squeezed the firm cheeks. He wanted to take her slowly, to savor what she was offering, but it had been a long time since he had lain with a woman. There had only been one other in the last thirteen years, and she had been nothing but someone to ease the sorrow of widowhood.

He wanted, needed to make tonight special. There were ten nights ahead that he could indulge in fast and furious.

Betty felt the sensation of a man reeling in his passion. She wanted none of it and wanted him on fire for her. She reached down and began to free the buttons of his shirt. They slipped easily from the holes. He grabbed her wrists, when she pushed the material away. She looked up, daring him to stop her assault on his body.

Frank read the unspoken words. He cupped her chin, and kissed her softly. She pulled her mouth away, and wretched her wrists from his gentle grasp. The business shirt was pushed off, and a white undershirt was lifted over his head.

She lowered her mouth to his nipple. Fingernails, short and rough, skated through the white hairs of his chest. She sucked on the dark tip of his right nipple, and teased the left with her fingers. He groaned, pressed her to the hard pebble and felt the shots of heat sprint down his chest and gather in his groin.

Betty licked her way over to the other stiff point, and treated it to small nips and sucks. He felt her hand slide down to his belt.

Frank shuddered at the idea of her fingers wrapped around his member. He grabbed her hand again and shook his head, when she looked up at him. "Not yet," he told her. "Please."

He saw confusion in her gaze. He smiled, and winked. "I'm not a young stallion, Betty."

She blushed, understood his meaning, and lowered her head to his chest. He lifted her gaze back to his and kissed her deeply.

Frank stepped back, and admired her delicate frame. Though she was obviously strong from working in a garage all her life, she still looked very much a woman. Gentle curves were where gentle curves should be, and her arms gave way to slim, slightly callused fingers. He lifted both hands and kissed each soft tip.

Her wrists were treated with the same gentle pressure, before he chose one arm to slowly become familiar with. His tongue and lips found the sensitive flesh of her forearm. She shivered and giggled when he licked at the inside of her upper arm. He smirked, locking away the knowledge of a ticklish spot. He reached her shoulder, and sucked on the skin that was littered with freckles. She smelled of peaches and cream, and tasted so much sweeter.

Betty stood there on shaky knees. She wasn't sure what to do, or how to behave. Her lovers had been few and far between. Her first had been a high school sweetheart, the other a drifter that she'd met at a bar in Newark. Both had been her age, and neither had been very giving in regards to her needs. Frank obviously was going to remedy that.

Each caress of his lips on her skin made her blood simmer, and when he reached down and caressed her right breast, she almost fell to the floor. He loved every inch of her with whispered words of desire. His lips found a tender spot under her ear, which he paid careful attention to, until she was softly cursing him.

He chuckled, and moved lower, at the same time he urged her backward.

She walked with him, allowing him to lead her to the edge of the bed. The back of her knees hit the firm mattress; she sat down, and stared at his crotch. He saw her reach for him; he shook his head and kissed her, once again urging her to follow his unspoken words.

Betty lay on her back; the soft quilt nestled her skin, as she scooted up, and rested on the center of the queen size bedding. The desire, in her lover's eyes, was evident and mirrored her own. Frank removed his belt, and dropped it to the floor. She gazed hungrily at him, as he pulled off his pants and boxers. His cock jutted out from a trimmed patch of graying pubic curls.

The rise and fall of her chest grasped his attention. He moved onto the bed, and lay partially over her, so his mouth and hand could work together. Frank tag teamed the soft mounds of flesh. He kneaded one, while suckling from the other. Back and forth he went, forcing Betty to grip the blanket in tights fists.

She gasped and hissed, sucked in large amounts of air so she could feed her lungs. Her hands moved to the back of his head, anchoring him to her right tit, so he could concentrate on learning the ridged shape of her areola, while his thumb and middle finger tortured its twin.

Frank fed her frustration and welcomed the sound of her pleas. He felt her twisting under him; her hands unsure of where to rest, and most likely incapable. He turned his attentions farther south and trailed his tongue down her abdomen, while his nails dragged lazily across her ribs. She jerked away from the tingling sensation and thrust her hips up, hoping to distract him.

The tip of his tongue danced around her belly button, while his fingers massaged her hips. He breathed in the heavy scent of her newly aroused state; the fragrance was only enhanced by the soap she'd used earlier. He sucked it in, committing it to memory.

As he reached the top of her soft downy mound, he took a moment to look back up and drink in her body. She was exquisite. Her gaze held his; her face was flushed. Her nipples were hard, protruded from the flesh of her aching breasts. He could still feel the weight of the orbs in his palms. Her smile was genuine; her desire, real.

Betty watched as he opened her legs, and pressed both his thumbs against the outer lips of her sex. She whimpered softly as he stroked the flesh, rubbing the skin with small circular ministrations. She felt her pussy flex and wondered if he could see the pulse that racked through her entire being.

She saw his fingers gather the swollen appendages in their firm grasps. He massaged each one; all the while he blew puffs of air on her mound. Instinctively, her hips rose and fell as she humped the thin space between his mouth and her sex.

Frank watched the young woman's body respond to his caress. His cock ached and his balls were heavy with need. He ignored everything about himself and focused on the sweet delicate flower beneath him. He lowered his mouth, and swiped at the pink flesh that he had pampered. The first taste was sweet and full of youth. He sucked it in, breathed in the heady fragrant aroma of her pussy and drew the flat of his tongue across the divided lips once more.

When she bucked, he took one hand and raised her ass up, as if she were now being served to him on a plate of flesh and bone. He pushed his tongue upward, while sliding fingers from his other hand across her slit, between her inner labia and against the opening of her velvet core.

The liquid pooled against his invading fingers. He sipped at it, before moving just a small fraction upward where he began to slowly and carefully devour her clit. The friction of his goatee skating across her sensitive flesh added to the already overwhelming sensations.

Betty's mind was full of varying shades of black. She couldn't comprehend the magnitude of what was happening to her body, as Frank drank from her pussy and pulled from her more and more liquid satin. She reached up and cupped her breasts, only because she didn't know what else to do. She was beneath him, a pawn in his game of seduction.

Her fingers twisted her tiny pert nipples, while his fingers twisted firmly back and forth inside her. Each turn drove him deeper, until she was clamping down on his thick digits and riding the rhythm of the pistons.

Frank coaxed more nectar from her sex, drank it greedily and felt the telling signs of her climax. He grinned as he heard her scream and felt the wash of her release cascade over his hungry tongue. The hot moisture slid down his throat and warmed his belly.

He continued to drive his tongue and fingers into her, while another wave slammed into her and washed over him. Over and over he forced her body to give up what he craved. When she was spent, he rose up and found her panting and lost in a daze.

Betty wasn't sure how long she'd been trying to breathe normally and regain her thoughts, but when she thought she'd gotten herself back to normal, she found Frank lying beside her; his gaze held hers. She blushed, looked down and saw his hardened tool.