The Tart and the Carpenter

And it was the last day. After they made love the last time, they dressed. There was a quietness in the room that could only be filled by absent conversation, a conversation neither of them felt like having. As Albert tucked in his shirt and buckled his belt, he looked around at the beautiful sights around him. Vanessa's bedroom had been the room where they had spent the most romantic nights and days of their lives, even if it was short-lived. Her walls were adorned with photographs of friends and boyfriends, glossy posters, and a shelf that was filled with teddy bears, no doubt given to her as presents by her parents and teenage beaux.

Then he looked at the bed. Now wrinkled in their passionate lovemaking of the afternoon, the pink sheets and comforters were awry, testimony to their sex. It was the scene of the hottest moments of his life. He had a hard time believing any other woman could top the sweetness, the sexual prowess, the youth, and the physical beauty of Vanessa. Neither of them would say they loved each other; it just didn't seem possible. Unfortunately, it seemed all too possible - and likely - that this affair would end.

Vanessa was eighteen. Albert was approaching fifty. It didn't seem possible that they had built such a strong connection the way that they had: the laughter, the romance, the charming and sweet words they shared in bed together, or while they simply just held each other in the dark and talked about odds and ends. It had been a wonderful equation for too short of a time. Vanessa, the town squeeze, and Albert approaching the half-century mark. It seemed improbable that the two had lived out a taboo romance such as they had, but they had. And God, what an equation it was.

Part Nine: Finale

The project was complete, and to the approval of Vanessa's parents, Carl and Beatrice. To Albert's astonishment, he was able to complete the project when he said he was going to, even with the distraction of Vanessa and her voluptuousness and flirtatious behavior. Carl had paid him upfront for the work and he, Carl, declared that Albert deserved every bit of it; he was in awe at the carpenter's skill. So was the daughter.

On the last day, Albert was finally packing up all his tools and things to put in the back of his truck. He was parked in the horseshoe-shaped driveway that was made of beautiful cobblestone. He missed Vanessa already and he hadn't even left the property yet. He entered their affair thinking she was just some hot piece of ass, and she was, but she was also so much more than that. She was a bouncy, lovely, intelligent young woman who had a bright future ahead of her - why try and anchor her down to an old man like himself? No, it was best just to cut ties and quit while they were ahead.

Standing out in the driveway alone, a noise caught his attention. It was Vanessa. She ran out from the house to meet up with him one last time. She kissed him passionately, and he couldn't help but do the same to her. Her candy kisses were the sweetest he'd ever known, and he simply couldn't get enough.

They stood there and looked at each other for a moment. He was still in awe of her. Her golden blond hair, her baby blue eyes, her shimmering smile that seemed to grant a thousand wishes. At that moment, he felt like an old clod compared to her. He tried to comb back his hair with his fingers and look a bit more presentable to her; he didn't want her final impressions of him to be wrong.

"I'm going to miss you," she said quietly.

"I'll miss you too, pumpkin, so much." He said, looking down at her and stroking her hair. "I wish I didn't have to go."

She nodded. "I know. Me too. But I came out here to give you a little present."

His eyebrows raised in question. "Oh? What is it?" He looked about her but could see nothing.

She pulled from her pocket the pair of blue silk underpants she had worn on their first night together. They were unwashed and crinkled and she stuffed them into his jeans pocket. He could feel his erection hardening as she put the naughty underthing into his pants.

"You'll always have these to remember me by," she said, winking, and then scampered off into the house.

He watched her. His eyes were greedy. It's as though no matter how much he saw her, naked or clothed, he could never get enough of her. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the silk fabric. His cock stood up and, like on that first night and many times to follow, he began to drip like a faucet. He sighed in resignation and got into his truck and drove away for the last time.

Vanessa, now upstairs in her bedroom, looked around, just as Albert had. She looked at the photographs on her wall and it seemed there was something missing. There was a gap on the wall, an opening longing to be filled. It seemed there was room for one more photograph upon her wall, one more photograph that seemed very important to add.

She went over to her desk and leafed through her diary. Notes, articles, odds and ends. Then she came to the Polaroid photograph of herself and Albert, the picture that they had taken the first day they had kissed. It was a beautiful snapshot. It showed two people completely enjoying each other's company despite the many objections that people would raise if they had found out of their romance. She picked it up and looked at it more closely.

There was a yawning, bare square on the wall waiting to be filled. Vanessa was about to tack the photograph up on the wall where it belonged but thought better of it. She returned it to the safe and private place in her diary, a place only she had access to. Some romances are better remembered when they're kept close to the heart rather than on full display.