Spread the Seed Ch. 02

Dawn met us there. She was standing out front, near the valet kiosk, in a quintessential Little Black Dress. I gave her a tight hug and kiss, and my parents greeted her enthusiastically. Dad smiled at me as he held the door open to let us in. He seemed happier to see Dawn than he was when I told him about the writing prize.

Dawn was thrilled with the meal and in high spirits throughout. She was surprised to see a place "fancy up" shrimp and grits, but she loved it, and said it was the best cornbread she'd ever had "this side of the Mason-Dixon line." Dad, always inquisitive, peppered her with questions, and she gamely answered with the same answers she gave me---loves Spread the Seed, divorced a couple of years back, no kids, excited about new starts and all that.

By the time dessert rolled around---Dawn couldn't resist the banana pudding pie---I figured now was the time. Spirits were never going to be higher. Everybody was in a good mood; I was surrounded by family; I loved Dawn. I patted my sportcoat, double-checking that the ring was there, then turned to Dawn. I had half a spiel put together, but I also wanted to be a little spontaneous.

"I'm so glad you came out tonight, Dawn, and I'm glad we're all together because I wanted to share something," I said. Dawn cocked her head at me curiously; Cait beamed. Dad, forking a bite of his own banana pudding pie, hadn't gathered the import of what I was saying yet.

"Getting to know you these past few months has been amazing, a powerful experience. I love the time I spend with you at work, I love everything you do, and how kind and supportive you are."

Her eyes softened.

"And I love you," I said, and reached into my pocket for the ring box.

Dawn began shivering---out of sheer excitement, I figured. I thought about getting on one knee, but then my parents wouldn't see me, and it'd make too much of a scene. So I just opened up the box in front of her. "I love you, Dawn. Will you marry me?"

Dawn began crying. "Oh, Blake," she sobbed. "Blake, I...." And with that, she got up and ran out the door of the Holler.

For a moment I did nothing. I'd pictured her leaping into my arms and crying "yes!"---an image burned so deeply in my mind that this point that her rushing off felt less like rejection than a violation of the laws or reality. No, you're supposed to be holding me right now! But my head cleared. Ignoring the quizzical faces all around me, I followed after and caught up with her halfway up the block. She'd stopped and had her face in her hands, still sobbing.

"Dawn, what is it?" I asked, as tenderly as I could. "Maybe I moved too fast. If you need time..."

She lowered her hands and looked at me, her mascara mess. "That's not it, Blake. I love you, and I want to say yes. But...I haven't been honest with you."

"What is it."

"I'm...not divorced. I'm still married."

I took a step back, unsure whether to be supportive or upset with her. She settled herself and explained her situation. She'd found out that her husband had been cheating on her, and confronted him about it. His counterattack was to accuse her of denying him children. She'd done no such thing---they'd both gone through fertility testing and were fine. He didn't want to grant a divorce, and though Dawn could've pushed ahead, it seemed like an expensive and unnecessary way to go. She wanted to wait. It was just bad luck, bad timing, all the little intangibles that seem to get in the way of creating a family the way she wanted. Or I wanted.

"I just figured it didn't matter because I wasn't looking for a relationship," she said. "And then you showed up."

I stayed silent.

"Blake, say something, please, hon," she said.

I took a deep breath. "I think you have a problem you need to solve, and I don't think you need God to help you, or me to help you. You need to help yourself. I think I made a mistake, Dawn. Not with Jill or Kathleen, or even with you. But I'm being pulled in the wrong directions here. I need time to think."

"But you'll come to church tomorrow, to work, right?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, Dawn. I need some time away from this. I think it's best if we didn't see each other at all for a while. And I shouldn't be a part of the church while that's happening."

Dawn looked at the sidewalk. "I love you, Blake. I really do."

I put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "And I love you too. But this---I can't. I'm sorry."

So I left her on the sidewalk and headed home, unemployed and single again.

*

I don't recommend returning an engagement ring if you can avoid it. I turns out to be complicated, especially if you purchase one rashly, if you assume that the busty lady with the sweet-tea voice you've been dry-humping by the Pitney-Bowes machine would say yes as soon as you popped the question. If she doesn't say yes, you learn that bringing the ring back can mean that your bauble is now considered used, and while they may not accept a return on it, they may consider buying it back for less than you paid for it. That's after going through the humiliating process of determining that it's the diamond you actually paid for, and that you're not some kind of con artist trying to fob off paste jewelry.

That's what the grumpy clerk behind the counter was explaining to me, loupe in hand, when I returned to the mall to bring the ring back.

"The diamond is the one you purchased, I can see that, but now that it's been used..."

"She never even put it on!" I said, trying not to sound shrill. It was pointless to protest. Stomp your feet too hard in a jewelry shop over returning an engagement ring and all you're doing is announcing to a store full of strangers that you're not marriage material. Quieter, I added: "It didn't even leave the box."

"Gil, may I?" The woman who'd sold me the ring stepped in, offering me a sympathetic smile. Gil shrugged and stepped away. She wasn't as frosty this time, and I took a moment to look at her. Middle-aged and fit, not much more than five feet tall, with short dirty-blonde hair. Her height made it easy for me to notice her cleavage, which a silver necklace drew my eyes to.

"Sounds like things didn't quite go as planned, huh?"

"Yeah," I said. "Long story."

"I understand." She waggled her left hand, ringless. "Divorced. I should probably be wearing more jewelry if I'm going to work here, but..."

"Things didn't quite go as planned."

She smiled. "Gil's the manager, but he doesn't put up much of a fight with me. I can give you a full refund on this, no problem."

"That's very kind of you, Ms...."

"Dawn."

"Ugh, you're killing me. That's her name."

"Good thing you didn't get it inscribed, then. Much harder to return that way."

"Then I could've just come here and asked you to marry me instead."

She smirked at my flirting. "You're cute," she flirted back. "But I'd have to say no. My marrying days are over."

"Mine too, so we have that in common. But thank you, Dawn. I owe you one."

She said nothing. It felt like an opening.

"Buy you a foot-court coffee?"

She looked at me, sizing me up. "I don't date customers."

"Rest assured I won't be shopping for engagement rings anytime soon."

Dawn the MILF looked at her watch. "Happy Valley Roasters," she whispered. "Ten minutes."

"I won't tell Gil," I whispered back.

No need to dwell on everything we talked about over coffee. In truth, it was simple: She was lonely, and so was I. And though we weren't ever going to have a world-beating romance, talking and flirting with Dawn felt easier and more relaxed than being a hired stud at Spread the Seed, or falling for my boss there. Jewelry-shop Dawn was comfortingly in-between---sexy, engaging, and not interested in attaching any strings.

So I loved her eagerness when I arrived at her house that night and she opened the door only wearing a silk robe that barely covered her ass, and which flew open as soon as we started making out. Soon she'd slipped to the floor, resting her knees on a pillow she'd set aside for the occasion, and began sucking my cock. I caressed her hair and thrust slowly but firmly into her hot willing mouth.

Soon she guided me to her bedroom, where she offered me a condom. A novel concept for me lately---so novel it actually had kind of appeal to it. She wanted me on top, and squeaked with pleasure the moment I entered her. Some women just cum easily like that, and her mewls and cries encouraged me to fuck her faster and harder as I clutched the edge of her mattress. The bed shook and swayed. I channeled everything I was feeling about Spread the Seed---the thrill, the resentment, the heartbreak---into my fucking, trying to erase it by giving Dawn orgasm after orgasm. Helping her feel good helped me feel good.

Her lips moist, her tits slick with sweat, well-fucked Dawn encouraged me to cum inside her. "Fill me up, Blake. I know you want it. Give me that big fucking load. Give it to me." I gave in, firing my load into the condom.

We rested for a little while in bed, Dawn leaving lots of small kisses on my chest. "That girl of yours doesn't know what she's missing," she said.

"Never did," I said, and drew her short, tight body on top of mine, kissing her, ready to fuck her again.