Swim, Butterfly Ch. 10

Conservative Couple

September 10th. My stomach churns as I set breakfast for Rudy and June. They've been back at school for about a week now. I send Pete a text to remind him I'm going to Manhattan to visit an art museum, going out for lunch, then strolling around the city before I get back home around seven pm. He complained that I should take this trip on the weekend, but I countered that he'd have to watch the kids all day. Plus, if I travel before and after rush hours, it'll be easier.

He receives instructions about the pre-made dinner in the fridge; all he has to do is re-heat it. It'll probably still sit in the refrigerator when I get home, right where I left it. Oh well. I need to quit over-worrying about every detail or someone will catch on that something is off.

At the bus stop, I give June a kiss on the cheek, and Rudy a hard-won kiss on the side of his head. As I wave bye to them from the bus windows, I bite the inside of my cheek. Smiling feels hard. It's not too late to call Jimmy and cancel. He might be mad, but he'll understand. The bus lumbers down the road until it turns a corner and disappears.

***

I sit by the window in the quiet café car on the train to Manhattan. Rotating Jimmy's copper ring around my finger, I suspect it will leave a funny greenish-black stain at some point, perhaps Jim's way of reminding me of him. I'm sure he knows that copper tarnishes, so I'll ask him why he bought me a copper ring. Because it's cheap? I don't think so. I somehow remember the atomic symbol for copper, Cu. See you, perhaps?

When the train finally pulls into Penn Station, passengers stand up and crowd the narrow passageways. My feet stamp like a little horse with hooves shod in new white sneakers and pristine white tennis socks. The crisp new shoes lend a sporty edge to my navy blue dress with short sleeves. I don't know why, but I wanted to wear something conservative, and packed the little ugly black pumps in my pocketbook in case I need a change of shoes. Yes, they have a history of dumpiness, but at least they are dressier than sneakers.

Shuffling my way out of the café car, I join the stream of people flowing over the platform and up the stairs. Earlier, I familiarized myself with the layout of the station and mapped out the route to the pub so I'm ready to go right out of the gate.

10:46. Butterflies multiply in my stomach--ouch! Hornets, too. Sometimes I wish Jimmy could meet me at the station, and although Pete rarely works in the Penn Station area, I have met a few of the railroad's employees thorough Pete over the years, so better to play it safe.

***

Manhattan, we meet again!

I circumvent a homeless man sprawled out on the sidewalk and giddy up 7th Avenue, this time as summer turns to fall. We're all half a year older and perhaps not that much wiser. Sometime, somehow today, between meeting Jimmy at the pub and fucking him and leaving, I should swing by MOMA and see it in person, maybe scroll through the online exhibits, so my answers have substance should Pete ask any questions, which is doubtful. But I do wish he would ask more questions once in a while.

A spicy breeze brushes past my cheeks; exotic for the city. I dodge, parry and thrust through people in Times Square, racing for green lights, stomping at red, cursing the crowds while a light sweat grows between my shoulder blades. I really should learn how to use the subway, but in the meantime, I remind myself to be careful and take the right route. A wrong turn costs precious time.

11:17. Must be a record. I turn a corner and catch my breath--the pub. I remove the matchbook from my pocketbook to triple-check. Yep. I take several deep breaths, exhaling slowly through pursed lips, my knees weak, but I step forward. It's not too late to turn around. Once you go through those doors.... Maybe Jimmy won't be there, doing me a favor even though I'd hate him for it.

I pull the door open and step inside, scanning the long bar. A handful of people hang out by the windows in the bright midday light, but no Jimmy. My face heats. I'd feel stupid turning and leaving now, so I'll get a coffee or a soda, then leave if he doesn't show.

I continue a few more paces along the bar, and as I approach the spot where Jimmy and I shared fries five months ago, I see a glass of white wine and a highball glass with a wedge of lime. The bartender, the same from April, pops out from behind the black curtain.

"You must be Caroline!" he bellows.

I look around and nod.

"Awesome! Jimmy's been waiting for you. He just stepped out a moment."

"Ok, thank you," I barely whisper.

I slip onto the stool, placing my pocketbook on the seat next to me. Studying the glowing bulb of the wineglass, I see in the reflection a pair of arms wrap around me, and suddenly I'm enveloped in a warm embrace. Jimmy buries his head in the crook of my neck and whispers, "What took you so long?"

Freeze and stay like this forever. Instead, I turn to the man who smells so good, touches me just right, and murmur, "Hi... blame the train...". We kiss briefly, but passionately. We're in public, after all. A few of the patrons at the end of the bar clap and woot, and one of them cries, "All right! She showed up!" I wonder what he told those people about us. Jim must be a regular around here. I glance at our fan club with a grin, wave them off, then Jimmy's all MINE. He hugs me again, this time not so hard, but longer, like he's holding down a helium balloon. Eventually, he sits and takes my hands.

"Finally, you're here!" he beams. My cheeks hurt with my smiling. He's got a few lines at the corners of his eyes, and it makes him even more handsome than I remember.

"Yep, I got away!" I exclaim.

His eyes widen.

"For the day, I mean."

"Yeah, for the day." His smile fades a little, and he shrugs.

"Jimmy, let's make the best of it."

"Yes," he concurs, squeezing my hands, "we'll do our best."

Letters and phone calls haven't prepared us for the in-person jitters, as I continue to smile like a fool, looking at his hands, then at him. I reach out, stroke the side of his face, then pull him close to me. We kiss again, and I whisper, "Let's have a toast, then go to your place." He withdraws slightly, smiles, and nods.

We try to toast, suddenly breaking out in giggles. "So, uh, what exactly should we toast?" Jimmy asks.

"Letters!" I blurt.

"Waiting." He offers.

"Badness..."

He gazes at me a moment, then says, "You." He taps the rim of his glass to mine, the rims of my eyes respond, but I stave off the tears by tipping my head back.

"Shh...," Jimmy gently dabs my eyes with a bar napkin. "Enjoy yourself, that's what I'm here for." He rests a hand on the side of my thigh, "We'll do whatever you want today, anything or nothing, as long as you're enjoying every minute."

I could melt into a pool at this man's feet. Better yet, I wish I could melt into a gin and tonic and let him drink me up.

We sip our drinks as if we were a normal couple meeting up after work. He asks me about the kids and the new school year. He's pulled his stool closer to mine, so all the while my knee rubs against his leg. Or his hand rests on my thigh. Or we hold hands; a mosaic of physical contact, a while here, a while there. He brushes a strand of my hair back into place. I ask him if his apartment was hot during the summer, and did he go out with friends? Mostly chit-chat and catching up in person, as two friends do when they haven't seen each other in a while.

After a drink and an hour, I feel comfortable with Jimmy again, my limbs soft and heavy with wine. Jimmy's luminous eyes look closely at me. "Ready?"

"Yes," I slip off my stool.

He places a hand on my shoulder and keeps looking at me. "You sure?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes."

"Good, but wait--I have another letter for you." He pulls a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. "Here, read."

I unfold the paper, knit my brow, and look at him.

"It's an STD panel. Haven't you ever seen one? Everything's negative," he whispers in my ear,

"You know what that means?"

"You're not pregnant?"

Jimmy laughs, "No!" He whispers again, "That means no rubber."

Oh. My. "And I have three letters for you--I... U... D."

"Ha, clever... and what about STDs?" he asks.

"N...O...N...E."

He smiles. Drinks paid up, I reach for my pocketbook, but Jimmy puts his hand around the strap and slings it over his shoulder, "Let yourself go today."

We exit the pub, strolling down the street. His big, warm hand swings naturally with mine. No one looks twice at us. Funny, traveling this route in the warm, bright daylight of early September as opposed to that blustery April night.

"I like your dress," Jimmy smiles.

"Thank you. I like you."

He chuckles, nodding his head. "We look like a nice, casual, conservative couple."

"Yes, that's what I want."

"And that's fine, but once we get inside, throw conservative out the window."

He swings me around to face him, pulls me to him fast and hard. One hand brushes the side of my breast as he kisses me deeply, but quickly. A passion flash, gone as quickly as it came, making my heart pound.That definitely garnered us some attention. Jimmy takes me by the hand again, and we continue walking as if nothing happened. I notice a woman watching us wide-eyed, seeming curious rather than disgusted. A middle-aged man smirks as he ambles by. I wonder if our brief interlude of passion will set off ripples in their lives? Who will remember that moment? Who will carry it home with them and spawn ideas of their own?

We arrive at the plain glass and metal door through which we passed on our virgin encounter. Again, I turn my back on the world and claim a space and time for me and Jimmy. I don't need to wait and throw conservative out the window; I'll leave it right here on the sidewalk.

Jimmy unlocks the lobby door. We blow in like leaves on the wind. The warm, close lobby insulates us from the outside. Jimmy pins my hands over my head to the wall and comes in for a long, slow kiss. As if he needs to hold me down...

Someone enters the lobby and I hear the person 'humph' as they walk by. I feel sorry for that person, because I bet they never felt like this before, and I wonder if they even know Jimmy from a hole in the ground. I admit that I still don't know everything about Jimmy despite our correspondence, but I never want to know him completely. He should be a favorite book you read over and over. You know it well, yet you can't put a finger on why it fascinates you.

Jimmy lets my hands down, then pulls me to the elevator. He presses nine on the board and takes me in his arms again. I feel weightless, on a cloud floating to my heaven, a butterfly fluttering to the skies. We barely stop kissing long enough to get off the elevator, and he fumbles for his keys, my silly pocketbook hanging off the crook of his arm. Finally, he gets the key in the first lock, turning it the wrong way. He rolls his eyes, then gets it right. We tumble through the open door, then shut it, Jimmy reaching blindly behind him to lock it.

I stop and take a breath. I smile--a bouquet of tiny orange roses placed in the teapot sits on the kitchen table. I pick up the bouquet and move it to the back of the kitchen counter. Jimmy looks askance at me, grins, then pulls me to him. I trace his jawline with my fingertip, then my hands wander to his shirt buttons, undoing them, one by one, until his shirt falls open and slack on his chest. My fingers take a detour, trailing down his chest, down along his abs. I don't want to rush. Jimmy holds the sides of my arms, loosely, gently, as if holding a butterfly.

I look at him long and hard, as if to make sure he's really there. He undoes the top few buttons of my dress, revealing a hint of the lacy pink lingerie I secretly bought in Cape May. He pushes the dress back off my shoulders, unbuttoning the front a little more, and brushing a finger underneath the bra strap.

"Mm, very nice," he purrs.

"Just for you. Only for you."

"For me? I don't think it'll fit, but let's take it off and see."

I giggle. He slowly lifts my dress and a vision of my cluttered kitchen at home passes through my head as the dress passes over my eyes. I catch my breath. Not now, home, go away. He pulls the dress up over my head and drapes it over a kitchen chair. His hands heat my midriff as he pulls me close.

I slide my hand over his hardness, caressing it, then undo the belt buckle, the button, the zipper. Jimmy breathes heavier. I push his pants down and grab a handful of his ass, pulling him close against my panties, his cock so hard it could rip through the lace.

"Ooh, aggressive," he croons in my ear, "I like it."

He yanks down my panties; I kick them away. In one sweep with a grunt, he lifts me up and sets my ass on the counter by the sink, "I don't know if I can fuck you like this, but I'm gonna try."

Jimmy can't get his cock in me because the counter is too high. He lowers me a few inches, holding my legs. I support my weight with my hands pressing down on the counter and he comes at me again, driving and poking his shaft into my stubborn pussy. We kiss sloppily, laughing at the clumsy lovemaking.

"This isn't working," he gasps in my ear. He lets me down, throws a kitchen chair out of the way, and spreads me out on the cold, hard table. His cock finally forces me open and drives home. The fullness of my pussy drives me wild, and shaking and moaning, I catapult into another world. Through narrow eyes I watch Jimmy work his magic on me, his eyes closed, and I imagine he, too, is in another world.

He falls into a lulling rhythm with long, slow, steady pushing and pulling, as if we lie in a dory, lolling in the waves. The faraway look returns to his eyes when he opens them and he pushes deeper, watching me. He covers my mouth with his, then releases, "I wanna' cum in you, want to cum in you so badly..."

"Go ahead."

"Not yet."

He withdraws, tugs me by the hands from the table, and leads me to the living room. Against the wall, I see what looks like a little mantle made of books and a board, with candles in the makeshift fireplace. I look at him, and he smiles, then kneels down to turn on the menagerie of battery-operated candles. He shrugs, "Ambience," then pulls the red blanket from the clothes horse and spreads it before the fireplace. "Get on your hands and knees."

I do so.

"Now, close your eyes."

I obey. I remain on hands and knees, eyes closed, listening. A scent of the roses wafts by as he walks away, then it sounds like he opens either the refrigerator or freezer door. I bite my lower lip and clench my fingers. He returns, kneels behind me, a warm hand on my rump, then a cold, hard object kisses me between my shoulder blades. I giggle and squirm, and he shushes me. The ice cube slowly glides down my spine; a cool, wet trail traveling all the way to the little divot just above my butt crack. The cube stops moving, then melting and dripping over my backside, over my pussy. I hear a slight thud beside me, then I feel Jimmy's tongue licking the wetness between my shoulder blades, following the trail down my spine. Halfway down, he eases his fingers into my pussy, moving in and out, massaging my clit, too. My arms shake, but I stay on my hands and knees. He continues licking and sucking and kissing down my back, tickling my backside briefly with the tip of his tongue. His fingers leave, then the blunt end of his cock penetrates me, slowly in and out at first, then fucking me hard, stretching me, his sticky fingers in my hair pulling my head back as he thrusts, "This... is what... you get... for making me wait!"

I grit my teeth, my hands clenching the blanket, beseeching him, "Not too hard... please!"

"Shh! You don't make requests... just take it, then you're gonna cum for me." Jimmy grunts between thrusts, his other hand on my hip, grabbing me and pulling me into him.

My pussy flutters, the tightness inside grows as my arms go flabby. Jimmy fucks me hard and fast. We moan, cry, plead. He thrusts into me as gripping waves try to hold him, and grabbing my shoulders like a vise, pulls me back into him as spurts of cum fill me. Groans and curses echo in the apartment, then he collapses on my back, breathing hard, his heartbeat palpable on my back. I'm still tight and can't let go.

I take a deep breath, shaking to where it almost hurts,"I, I need a moment."

"I know, but don't get too loose." Gradually, he backs out. "Hold it in."

"What? Are you worried about the blanket?"

"Shush, woman. Hold it in and stand up."

I do my best, clenching, legs still wobbly. Some of the fluid leaks out, but I get to my feet. His warm hands turn me around to face him. He smiles, still on his knees, "Bet you never did this before."

He pulls me closer and brings his mouth to my pussy. Oh, no, God no!... I put my hands on his head, almost pushing him away, but instead press him closer into me, my lips tingling anew with his tongue inside me. He gently sucks, his tongue teasing out the juice. I can't believe how pervertedand good it feels.

My eyes closed, head back, I keep my knees soft so they don't lock up and make me pass out. I feel Jimmy stop. I look down as he opens his eyes and looks up at me, closed-mouthed with a little smirk, and motions with his finger for me to come down. I kneel before him. He tilts my head back, kisses me, and the contents of his mouth flow into mine. The warm, briny, gagging fluid glides down my throat. I kiss him deeply to make sure I get every bit, then we kiss and kiss again long after his gift is gone.

Finally, drained, I collapse on the blanket. Jimmy lies next to me, resting his head on my outstretched arm. He smiles, kisses me on the tip of my nose, and takes my hand. We fall asleep.

***

The sound of barking, querulous and heated, wakes me and leads me back to consciousness. I slowly open my eyes. Jimmy's still asleep when I roll my fingers along and around his bald head, studying his face.

"Mmm, that feels nice," he murmurs, then takes a deep breath and stretches his taut body before me.

"When did you start shaving?" I ask.

"This morning."

"No, duh, I meant the first time you shaved your head."

"My head? When I was about twenty-seven. It was gettin' thin at the top, so I said fuck it and shaved."

"What did your hair look like?"

"Kind of a carroty light brown, curly."

"And your beard?"

He chuckles, "Dark. Drapes don't match the carpet, baby!"

"Huh? That doesn't really make sense."

"Oh well," he grunts as he sits up. He checks his phone. "Three o'clock. What do you wanna' to do? I say we shower and go stake out a piece of Central for a while, stalk a few people?" he grins. I smile. That's all the answer he gets. He helps me to my feet, and we shower together. I scrub his back, he scrubs mine.

While I finish towel-drying in the bathroom, I look in the mirror. My hair resembles a lion's mane. "Shit! I forgot a hairbrush!" I call out.

Jimmy peeks around the bathroom door. "Look in the cabinet."

I open the mirror of the cabinet and see a hairbrush. "I thought you didn't entertain here."

He frowns. "Pick up the damn brush and look at it, goose."

I do so, and see the price tag sticker still stuck to the handle. "Oh, sorry," I murmur.

"Never assume," he smirks, then leaves me to torture the knots out of my hair. While I'm pulling and teasing out the tangles, I try to convince myself that it's time I checked my phone.Fuck! No, I really should. I finish up in the bathroom and get dressed, then dump the pumps out of my pocketbook and kick them under the table so I can root through my bag for the phone. I was so nervous getting off the train this morning, I just tossed it into the abyss rather than slipping it back into its own little pocket. My phone, squished between my day runner and a notebook, displays no calls, no messages. Good.