The Improbable Tenant

Cathy recalled his remark about "your friends will be embarrassed" and made a special point to take him to her favorite restaurant, and Trent's, in hopes that she would run into someone she knew. She felt like a queen on his arm, so proud of him. Later neither of them would recall what they had for dinner that night, so absorbed were they in their intimacy. Their waitress recognized the atmosphere at their table and envied them. When she asked if they cared for dessert she was not at all surprised when Cathy, after a knowing look at Paul, replied that they had other plans, thank you.

And for the second time that day, Cathy and Paul rode home in sweet satisfaction, knowing they would soon be making love.

*******

When she awoke on Monday morning he was already up and gone, but she found he had drawn a smiley-face in soap on her bathroom mirror, and when she got into her car discovered on her steering wheel a Post-It with his note, "You're fantastic." She moved it carefully to the dashboard, and so far as is known it resides there still.

She skipped off to work, feeling so full of energy that she flew through her rounds, and so efficiently that she found time to talk with each of her patients. They, in turn, were in unusually good spirits; glad to see you, were feeling better, thank you, and how was your weekend? It never occurred to her that they, and her colleagues as well, were feeding from the afterglow of her weekend.

At noon the flower deliveries began to arrive, and included were a dozen roses for her; no card, but none was needed. What Cathy's supervisor saw the look on her face, and the flowers, the cat was out of the bag. Aren't they beautiful, Cathy, and isn't someone a lucky guy? What can you tell us about him? That's all right, we understand, perhaps we'll get to meet him one day.

When Paul called later that afternoon, he was told she couldn't come to the phone; leave a message. But, wait, are you the gentleman who sent the flowers? Yes, he was; then please stay on the line while we find her; runners were sent in all directions, Cathy found and dragged to the phone to hear Paul thank her for a wonderful weekend. He had been thinking of her all morning, fondly, he said, but he also had some very erotic thoughts as well, of things which he would like to put into practice that evening. Some details followed, enough to cause her to smile and glance at the clock. Disappointment followed; she would have to work a double, fill in for a missing colleague. When she finally arrived home it was nearly midnight, and no light on in the apartment. But, entering her kitchen, she found a candle on the counter and saw the glow of another in the living room.

Paul was closing up his laptop. He shushed her and sat her down, pillows all arranged on the sofa, handed her a glass of wine and proceeded to take off her shoes and massage her feet; perhaps he thought it was that which precipitated the weekend and wished to repeat his success. Poor you, he said, what a long day. Did she want some music? He had not put any on, was not a music lover himself. No? Good, we'll talk instead. It figures, he went on, that her first day back at work would have been like this. The world always seems to intrude when you're in relationship, but a little extra effort would make things right, and Paul's available, if you're agreeable, for any amount of extra effort you desire. Perhaps he could rub her shoulders, back, anything.

Cathy begged for five minutes and dashed upstairs to the bathroom for a quick once-over with a washrag, leaving her clothes in a heap. Into the dresser for clean panties; no, not those, the sexy ones, ah, there they are; into a bathrobe and back to Paul, patiently waiting.

He had moved the candle to the rug and spread out a coverlet in front of the fireplace. Alas, no fire; he had not thought of everything. She lay down beside him, shrugged back the robe and told him she could not believe how good he was to her.

"I'll be good for a few more days", he said. "After that, you walk three paces behind me in public and speak only when you're spoken to."

Paul proceeded to massage her shoulders and back, rather inexpertly but nonetheless well-intended, and who's counting at a time like this? His massage ended in any case when she became impatient to feel him against her, rolled over, and pulled him down onto her. She had been thinking of this, at odd moments, all day, and so had he, so that their passion rose quickly. They lay on the rug like teenagers, kissing, stroking, murmuring.

Since she wore only the panties and an open robe, Paul was for the moment quite content to admire her; to stroke her thigh, fondle her breasts. Cathy managed to take off his shirt, trailed her fingers over his back. She was very conscious of his erection and fumbled at the button and zipper of his Levis, but with only one hand it was hopeless.

"Can we go upstairs?"

"Mm, let's."

But as soon as they rose, each found more opportunity to explore the other, and so they did not move immediately to the staircase. Paul was intent upon feeling those beautiful breasts, those magnificently hard nipples, against his own bare chest, with both hands around her back, her smooth cheeks. Cathy now had room, and both hands, to open Paul's jeans and slide her had under his shorts to fondle him, all the while locked in another passionate kiss. She sensed his quick intake of breath, felt him twitch and harden still more.

They groped up the stairs, not from any lack of illumination, but because Paul declined to take his hand from her breast, and Cathy was determined to keep a hand actively engaged in Paul's jeans, and her lips on his neck, his ear; which required her to attempt the stairs backwards, and they made but halting progress.

Bumping as far as the first landing, Paul lost patience and pressed her against the wall. Another long, gasping kiss; and both concluded there was a better way, and so they ascended the stairs side by side, arms around one another.

The robe, and his clothes, fell where they stood. A long embrace, skin to skin, and Paul pulled back the spread and guided her into the bed. Cathy lay back languidly, arms over her head and watched Paul's face, the delight in his eyes as he admired her, and his hand slowly slid down her body to her thigh, her knee, back up the inside of her thigh, letting his hand brush lightly against her there, making her gasp. He leaned down for a deep, slow kiss before moving his attention to the inside of her arm. When his tongue found her armpit she had a rush of animal passion, felt herself open to him.

Paul looked down. "Your panties are very sexy, but I think they've done their job. May I take them off?"

"You teaser. Rip them off, and make love to me."

"I'll do my best." He slipped them off with both hands, let his hands glide down her legs until they were free. "Mm, it's beautiful. May I kiss it?"

"If you want."

He did want. Settling himself between her legs, he started high on her inner thigh, flicking his tongue in an out, just touching. She was aching for him, pulled her knees higher. Then he licked her thigh, making small circles, letting her know what was to come, let his cheek brush her curls. Finally, he sucked gently, insistently, in the same spot only inches from her desire. Cathy was panting with passion. Is that what he's going to do?

It was, and he did. After his tongue slowly ran through her he stopped, told her that she tasted sweet, bent down again to suck her as the fondled both breasts with both hands, more insistently now.

"Oh, Paul. Aaah. Paul, I want you inside me."

He had never felt so rock-hard. He rose up over her, looked down into eyes glazed with desire and slowly entered her, completely. A mutual sigh of pleasure; and he began the motion, set a rhythm which she joined, rocking, rocking, then faster and harder. Cathy clutched his back, his shoulders, almost painfully, as she lost control in a long, intense climax. Hers brought on his own, and in a half-dozen hard, fast strokes he joined her in an almost simultaneous orgasm.

They slept, tangled arms and legs across one another, and in the morning Paul recalled that it had been four nights – a record, without alcohol – since the dreams had come for him.

*****

Although they were deeply in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, and anxious to remain there as long as possible, Paul had to spend a great deal of time with his studies and often waited until Cathy went to sleep after their lovemaking to return to the apartment to work. Cathy understood, but would have liked to find him beside her in the morning. She envisioned a desk for him in her living room, where she could see him, have him around, where he could work undisturbed while she read quietly. Until, that is, she judged he was ready to be disturbed.

One evening, just after dark, she decided it was a good time to bother him, went to the garage and called up the stairs.

"Come up, I'm almost done."

As usual, he was at his computer, books and papers everywhere. She had not been in the apartment since he moved in, and was surprised to see that apart from his work area the place was neat and spotless. On the nightstand beside the tightly-made bed was a framed picture of his family; apart from that, and a bookcase full of technical texts, the room had no identity at all, no clues as to who might reside there.

He saw her looking at the photo. "I'd like to have one of you, or better yet, one of us to put there."

"I'd like that, too. I hope I'm not disturbing your work." I'm lonesome for you, I'm ready to play.

"I just need to finish up a few things, then it can run on its own. Five minutes?" I want to make love to you right now, right here. I'm ready every time I see you.

"Do you want me to leave? You could come over when you're done."

"No, no, I'll only be a minute." It'll be fun to break in a new bed. Cathy settled herself on his bed, stretched her arms and tried to strike a sexy pose so that, if he turned around from the desk, he might be tempted to finish sooner. Paul attacked the computer feverishly, knowing exactly what was going on behind him. She gave him a few minutes, and then took more positive action.

"You know, you could move your things into the house. Not just your books, but your clothes and toothbrush, too."

He stopped, turned and looked at her; started to speak, then came to her, sat on the bed and held her hand. "That's a beautiful invitation. If you ask me again, I'll say yes. But don't ask for what you don't want. I mean, I want to, but that implies a serious commitment. Maybe you're not ready for that; two weeks ago, you weren't. I've thought about it and I know what I want, but I want you to be comfortable with your decision. Please don't misunderstand me. If you ask me again, I'll say yes before the words are out of your mouth. I hope I haven't offended you."

She did not misunderstand; she only knew that he had said "yes" and "commitment" at the same time, and her heart sang. "No, of course not. You're so thoughtful. All right, I'll think it over. Go back to work."

But she could give him only another minute, and impatience took over. She got up, walked to the desk, bent over behind him and put her cheek an inch from his. "That looks very technical." The unstated message was, everything's fine with us. Perfect.

"I love the smell of you."

"I'm so sorry. I'm distracting you."

"I love it when you distract me."

Cathy straightened, put her hands on his shoulders, leaned forward until the back of his head rested between her breasts and slowly ran her hands down his chest. The laptop banged shut and he was on his feet in a heartbeat. He started to speak, decided anything he might say would be superfluous, and kissed her instead. Their hands roamed, hers under his shirt. Paul started on the buttons of her blouse; this was going to get very intense, very quickly, he decided.

Cathy leaned back to give him more room and pressed her hips against his. Aha, he's ready. And goodness, so am I. Undress me, quickly, please.

Then, as if on cue, a car pulled into the driveway. They both looked down to see Connie, who had decided that she had not seen her friend in more than a week and would just drop in to see if all was well.

"Oh, darn, it's Connie."

"Maybe if we just stay here she'll give up and go away."

"My car's out. She knows I'm here. I'll have to go down. Why don't you come along and say hello?"

They emerged from the garage together to find Connie at the porch door. It took only one quick look for Connie to divine that here was a very intimate couple. She was delighted, but decided it would not be polite to comment until she and Cathy were alone.

They went inside, exchanged pleasantries and made small talk, Connie all the while aware of the relaxed, contented look on her friend's face and the very satisfied, knowing look on Paul's. It occurred to her that she was an interruption, but she wanted to stay to see if there might be an announcement, an opportunity for her to congratulate them. She asked if there could be a glass of wine in the house.

Of course there was, and Paul reluctantly settled in for what could only be a longer-than- hoped-for conversation. Cathy was also hoping her friend would leave, but within a few minutes was fully engaged in conversation and, to Paul's mind, enjoying it too much. He decided, after their first glass of wine, that perhaps he could make Connie's interruption more obvious to her.

Paul and Cathy were seated together, Connie on the other side of the kitchen table; he casually put an arm on the back of Cathy's chair, idly played with her hair, stroked the back of her neck and brushed her ear with his thumb in a way he had discovered she found very sensual. Cathy enjoyed the sensation, recognized what he was doing, and played along by placing her hand on his thigh and absentmindedly stroking it. A distinct sexual atmosphere began to materialize, one that Cathy and Paul hoped would be sufficient to cause Connie to make her good-byes.

It had, instead, the opposite effect. No one enjoyed a sexual atmosphere more than Connie, even when it did not specifically include herself. She smiled knowingly, poured for herself another glass of wine, and tried to add coals to the fire by steering the conversation to intimate apparel. Perhaps, having been so long overseas, he had not seen the latest fashions; what type and color did he prefer? Had anyone ever modeled them for him? She had a Victoria's Secret catalog in the car, if he would like.

Connie was no bore; Cathy, and to a lesser extent Paul, were drawn into her web; she was so charming you simply could not be upset with her. The conversation went on, enjoyably, into a third glass of wine. Paul did not know what more he could do; when asked by Connie to fetch the bottle again he used the opportunity, when pouring for Cathy, to nuzzle her ear and remind her not to drink too much lest it detract from their evening; he was shutting himself off for the same reason, if you know what I mean.

His meaning could not have been clearer, yet still Connie would not leave. She thought Paul so sexy, so tender and thoughtful towards Cathy and the atmosphere so sensual that she stayed on to enjoy it with the same wistful longing for unlikely fulfillment that might be found in the purchaser of a national lottery ticket.

Paul, finally, had had enough; and, perhaps because of the wine, bluntly announced that he was going to bed, devoutly hoped that he would not long be alone, and invited Connie to disrobe and join them, or they would see her another time. Unfortunately, Paul did not know Connie nearly as well as he thought he did. Under the right circumstances, and these were very close to right, Connie might have eagerly accepted such an invitation, and she was considering her reply when Cathy, who more accurately read the situation, averted a potentially embarrassing incident by taking her friend firmly by the arm and hustled her, protesting, to the door where hurried farewells were exchanged.

******

When they met for lunch at an upscale café, neither Cathy nor Connie mentioned the way they had parted the night before. Cathy would never have thought to embarrass her friend, and Connie had already written off her confusion to that third glass of wine. In any event she was bursting, positively bursting, with questions she had not been able to ask.

"Oh, Cathy, I'm so happy for you. You look gorgeous, so relaxed. I never saw you like this before. I knew the moment I saw you that lovely man was ringing your bell!"

Cathy was no prude, but neither was she sure that an allusion to bell-ringing was the way she wished to describe her relationship with Paul. In her present mood she let it pass.

"So tell me all about it. When did it start, you know, really start?"

"The weekend before last. It just sort of happened. I mean, it didn't just happen, I just took a long time. It was so hard to decide to take a chance. But he is so patient and wonderful. It just feels like everything is right again, after such a long time."

"I'll bet he's wonderful. I want all the details. Is he, you know, good?"

Blushes. "He's great. So thoughtful. You know, he sent me a dozen roses at work?"

"Get out! Such a romantic! But the other details. Is he good in bed? Leave you all limp and mushy? Tell me everything, and I mean everything."

"Connie, you know how these guys are! I mean, you're my best friend, but if Paul ever dreamed I was talking about him..."

Cathy, it's me here. Of course I'm your friend. Do I have a big mouth?" Cathy bit her lip; Connie couldn't stop talking in an empty elevator. "Besides, who would I talk to?" That was a point; and Cathy really did want to tell her how wonderful things were, if not perhaps in the detail she knew Connie wanted. "Let me put it this way: the first time we made love it was absolutely the best I ever had in my life. And it keeps getting better."

"Mm, that sounds more like it! I'll bet his equipment is pretty nice, too."

"Connie, you're embarrassing me. But yes, it's very nice."

"And is he good for two or three rounds, or one of those guys who goes to sleep?"

"Let's just say he's always ready. And so am I. God, I'm almost ashamed of the way I want him all the time."

"Nothing wrong with that, dear. And how's his technique? Got lots of little tricks for you, or just an athlete?"

Blushing again. "He does...lots of different things. Everything. You know what he told me? Connie, not a work, because this came right from him, you understand?"

"Of course, of course."

"He said with a gentleman, the lady always comes first."

"Oh, that lovely man! What a prize! I'm so, so happy for you! And it goes without saying, he must be pretty satisfied with his new little love bunny."

"I hope so." Something in her voice told Connie there was more to this story.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No, no, no. What is it?"

"It's just that...he does certain things to me, not every time, but things that Trent never did but wanted me to do for him, you know? And Trent made me feel dirty, so I never would. But I really like it. With Paul, I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean. So, are you giving Paul some nice head, too?"

"I want to, but I haven't gotten up the nerve yet."

"So of course you will. You just need Connie to brush you up on the technique, is that it?

A knowing silence.

"It's easy, and take my word for it, he'll love it! From you, of course!" Giggles all around.

Blushing furiously, but grimly hanging onto every word, Cathy leaned forward while Connie launched into a truly gifted lecture on a subject she knew very well; that is to say, on every conceivable aspect of a most intimate conjugal activity.