The Trouble With Emily Ch. 02

They didn't exchange another word until morning. They simply lie close together and slowly fell asleep. When the first light of morning dawned and spread across Mitchell's bed, he awoke to find himself spooning with Katie, his dreamy hard-on nestled up between her legs, resting near the warm damp split of her cleanly shaven sex. He looped his arm up around her into the generous valley between her breasts and gave her a little hug. She purred softly and he fell back asleep.

When he awoke again, it was nearly ten o'clock and Katie was gone from his bed. As he sat up on the sheets, Mitchell began to think that it was all just a dream. But then he saw her tiny black g-string on his nightstand. He picked it up and fondled it, bringing it to his nose for a little sniff. I am some sort of fool, aren't I, he thought. He shook his head, smiled and got up to wash up, dress and go down to breakfast. Katie didn't say a word to the others about what had happened during the night. When it came time to leave, she gave him a warm hug.

"You're a real gentleman, Mitch," she said softly out of earshot of her friends. "There aren't many like you around."

"I'll bet there's one out there just for you," he whispered into her ear.

"Take care, Mitch, and thanks for everything," she said. "I hope you get what you're looking for."

He noticed that she didn't say, "find," she said, "get." After Emily finished walking Katie and Lizzie out to their car, she came up to Mitchell standing in the kitchen, filling up the dishwasher with the dirty breakfast dishes.

"So what was that about?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"The big hug and kiss from Katie."

"It might have been a hug, but there was no kiss."

"You sure there isn't something brewing between you two?" Emily asked impishly.

"I can assure you that nothing is happening between Katie and me. Nothing."

"Okay," Emily said. "But I'd be okay if there was." She gave him an interesting but puzzling look as she left the room.

Mitchell thought long and hard about the last twenty-four hours. He shook his head thinking that, despite what Katie and the rest might think, there was no way he was developing feelings for Emily, other than pure and simple appreciation for what she was doing, looking after his kids for him. He really did like her a lot, but that was all. She was way too young for him and if he was going to date anyone, it would most likely be that cute little mom he often saw around Timothy's school.

* * *

It just so happened that a few days later, Mitchell stopped off at the local market to pick up a few groceries, a trip that usually ended up with him pushing a completely filled cart through the checkout.

"Hello, there," said Layla, the checkout girl, or so her nametag read. Must have been conceived while some Clapton was playing, Mitchell thought with amusement. "Did you find everything all right?" she asked attentively.

"Sure did, more than what was on my list," Mitchell answered.

"Great! Our kind of customer," the girl replied.

Mitchell had seen her around before, a slender goth-styled girl with jet-black hair and big dark eyes. He remembered her because of her gaudy silver jewelry emblazoned with snakes and skulls and weird twisted vines. As usual, he made small talk with her while he imagined what sort of tattoos or piercings might lie underneath her tight black t-shirt and tight black jeans.

As he began to bag his groceries and set them in his cart, his eye caught sight of the person following him in line. She had just come up behind him, apparently in a rush. It was the cute little mom that he remembered seeing in the mornings many times around Timothy's school. Her face was flushed and she seemed out of breath. She brushed her strawberry blonde hair from her face and began to unpack her groceries from the hand-held basket, an appetizing assortment: bottle of red wine, some tortellini, some fancy tomato sauce, a couple loaves of French bread.

"Say, can I eat at your place tonight?" he asked impulsively, the thought coming to his mind and jumping out unexpectedly past his lips.

She stopped suddenly and looked at him.

"Do I know you?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"Our kids go to Thornton Creek," Mitchell remarked. "You probably don't recognize me without a skinny little ten-year-old boy in tow."

It took a long moment for the recognition to show in her face. Just long enough for Mitchell to feel his face grow warm and flush with embarrassment. She probably has no idea who the hell I am, he thought. Then a weak little smile appeared on her face.

"Skinny kid, blond hair, brown eyes?" she asked.

Mitchell was surprised that she remembered and nodded.

"Never saw him before," she added with a blank look.

Mitchell flopped back into embarrassment mode.

"Just kidding," she chipped in quickly. "I remember you from the Winter Carnival at the school. You were helping with the hot cocoa booth."

"Guilty."

The checkout girl had finished running his groceries through the register and he flashed his credit card.

"So what army are you cooking for?" the school mom asked as Mitchell set the last bag atop his full cart.

"Just my kids, can't keep 'em fed it seems," he confessed.

Mitchell took inventory of the woman behind him in line. Maybe five-five, strawberry blonde hair that fell below her shoulders, blue eyes, pretty smile, nice firm little breasts, narrow waist, nice flaring hips, and a tight pair of buns from what he could tell through her khaki slacks. Most importantly her left hand was bare with no rings of any kind. He certainly felt an attraction.

"I know the feeling. I just have the one and it's hard to keep up," she commented.

"You two celebrating tonight or what?" he asked as he signed the receipt for Layla, the checkout girl.

"Oh, this? I'm eating alone tonight. My son is with his father tonight. Soccer night."

"Ah, okay."

There was a moment's pause.

"And you?"

"Me?" Mitchell said. "Oh, dinner? I think I'm eating at home with my kids. Em-er, my nanny probably has something ready."

"Oh," said the cute little mom, looking a little disappointed. "Must be nice." She sighed and glanced over at Layla, the checkout girl, who had obviously finished with Mitchell and was launching into her "did you find everything okay" spiel.

Mitchell began to push his cart away. His pulse was racing faster than his mind could think. He remembered Stuart's advice given a long time ago. When you see something you like and you turn your back, you'll never see it again. Mitchell glanced back at the cute mom and heard the sound of her voice chatting with Layla. He took another step toward the door and then stopped and turned around.

"Excuse me, but ... um, if you don't want to eat alone ..." he began. The mom looked over at him with surprise. "I was going to suggest that if you're ... you're going to eat alone and don't want to, you know, eat alone, maybe we could ... um, you know ... get together."

The mom's head tilted slightly to the side as her dark blue eyes swept up and down his body performing a quick appraisal. First impressions are always important. Since his pick-up line wasn't exactly smooth, Mitchell hoped that at least his boyish charm and his smile would turn the trick.

"You like Italian?" she asked as Layla ran the tortellini and red sauce through the scanner.

"I've been known to put away my share," Mitchell answered.

"I don't know," the mom said, then turned toward Layla. "What do you think?"

"He's kind of cute and shy and charming," said Layla the checkout clerk. "I'd cook for him."

"Think so?" the mom asked. Mitchell might have been waffling in the breeze but it appeared that the little mom was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Well, he doesn't look like an ax murderer or anything," Layla replied with a wink in his direction. "If you're not interested I'll go for it."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," the mom said and then smiled broadly. "Sure. Why not?"

Mitchell was relieved. He waited patiently for her to finish with her modest bag of groceries then walked with her out to her car.

"I guess we haven't met yet," he said. "I'm Mitchell Gallagher."

"Hi. I'm Brandy Goodman," she replied with a lovely smile.

"Brandy?" Mitchell grinned. "That's a terrific name but I didn't know that parents actually named their daughters Brandy."

"What do you mean?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Mitchell said, "but it sort of sounds like the name of the sexy fantasy girl in a cheesy fifties crime novel."

"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted," Brandy replied.

"Um, I'd go for flattered," Mitchell said trying to make up. "It's a beautiful name, just like the girl it belongs to."

"Oh, you silver-tongued devil," Brandy said, stopping by a white Grand Prix. "So you want to stop by around seven?"

"Sure. That'll give me enough time to put all this away and get ready."

"Terrific."

"See you then."

Mitchell started to wheel his cart away when Brandy called out after him.

"Grace Street," she prompted. "875 Grace Street."

Mitchell stopped and turned back.

"Right, your address," he said.

"If you don't show up, I'll have to eat all this pasta and drink the whole bottle of wine by myself."

"I wouldn't want to have that on my conscience," Mitchell replied. "I'll see you at seven."

"Nice to meet you, Mitchell."

"Same here, Brandy."

Mitchell began to load his groceries into his SUV and watched as Brandy peeled away in her white sedan, flashing him a great smile and a wave. Suddenly he felt a twinge of excitement inside. Finally, he thought. All right!

When he made it home, Emily and the kids were almost as excited as he was.

"All right, Dad!" Kelly said. "Way to go!"

"So who is the lucky girl?" Emily asked with a happy grin.

"Ran into her at the grocery store. I've seen her around Timmy's school. Name's Brandy. Has a little boy."

"Brandy Goodman?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"I know her. Little Jonathan in the first grade."

"Don't know."

"She's a little sweetheart. Divorced. Lives with her parents near the school. A Pisces too I believe."

"And just how do you know all this?"

"I see her in the morning when she drops Jonathan off. We sort of chat in passing."

"Anything I should know about before I go over there?"

"You know it's against the Chick Code to reveal confidential information. Any more than what I told you is up to you to find out."

Damn!" Mitchell groused playfully. "I was sort of hoping for a insightful cheat code."

He heard Emily and the kids laugh as he went upstairs to wash up and change. He was glad that Emily was so upbeat and encouraging about his little date. Actually it wasn't a little date, it was his first since Angela passed. He didn't want to think any more about that so he busied himself getting ready. When he strode down the stairs in a clean shirt and pressed slacks, Emily gave out a little whistle.

"Say, handsome. Looking for a date?" Emily asked flirtatiously.

"Sorry, baby. I'm already taken tonight," Mitchell replied.

"Damn! And I was hoping to get lucky tonight."

Mitchell tried to relax as he drove over to Brandy's house. Relax and be yourself, he thought. This wasn't all that big a thing, was it? Well, maybe it was. He hadn't been on a real date since ... since dating Angela, and now he was going over to the house of a woman that he didn't really know all that well. Mitchell knew what she looked like, and he really liked that. He knew where she lived and only the most basic things about her. But who was she? What made her tick? What made her happy ... or sad? What made her cum? Oh, wait! I am way too far of myself on that, he thought. Fortunately, they didn't live all that far apart so that he wouldn't end up thinking too much and he quickly found himself pulling up in front of 875 Grace Street.

It was a balmy summer night, the sun was no where near setting, and Mitchell inhaled the pungent fertile aroma of roses in full bloom as he strolled confidently up to the front door. The door was open when he knocked and it took a few moments for Brandy to appear. She seemed flushed, almost hurried, dressed in a modest pink top and snug blue jeans.

"Hi," Mitchell said in greeting. "Am I early?"

"Nope, it's seven-oh-one," Brandy replied, her high, rounded cheekbones flush and rosy. "Um, come on in," she offered, opening the door.

Mitchell stepped inside. It was an older home and it felt like it had been lived in a long time. The furnishings were antique and well-kept, and the aroma from the kitchen wetted his appetite.

"This is nice," Mitchell said. He noted a wonderful secretary standing proudly against a wall. "That is really nice."

"Thanks, this is my parents' house," Brandy said. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Wine would be okay."

"Can you do the honors? I'm not good at opening wine bottles."

Mitchell followed her toward the kitchen, picking up on the dining table set for two, complete with candelabra blazing. He quickly essayed the wine and poured a pair of short glasses while Brandy tended the stove.

"Almost ready," she said nervously, accepting her wine glass.

"Cheers!" Mitchell toasted. "To new friends."

"New friends. Yes," Brandy remarked before taking a sip of the Cabernet.

"My compliments to the wine steward," Mitchell said, savoring his own first sip. "She obviously has great taste."

The blush on Brandy's cheeks was lovely and endearing. Mitchell wondered if he was over-the-top on that last comment. She moved back to the stove and snapped off the burners. She glanced around apprehensively. They regarded each other awkwardly. Mitchell sensed that there was something that needed to be said.

"Thanks for inviting me over," he blurted out.

"Actually, I should thank you for inviting yourself over," Brandy said with a grin. "I've seen you around the school from time to time. You always seem to be in such a rush. I guess I never thought that you would ... you know, be interested."

"I'm always interested in interesting people," Mitchell replied.

He helped her bring the dinner to the table and chuckled when she brought out a cheese grinder for the pasta. The dining room was small and intimate. There were a few initial awkward moments before they finally managed to break open the logjam and the conversation suddenly began to flow freely.

They talked about their individual situations, divorce and death, the school system, and their jobs. The most animated conversation was about their children. When they got around to talking about dating, Mitchell was surprised.

"Oh, I've been out on a lot of dates," Brandy stated with a deep sigh. "I've met a lot of guys. They seem to find me all over. I can't hardly go to the restroom without some guy hitting on me."

"So that's why you were sort of hesitant?"

"Hesitant isn't even the word. I loathe dating now. It used to be so much fun when I was younger. Every guy was such a different adventure. But now ... since my divorce it's become such a chore. He's going to say all the right things, make all the requisite gestures, open doors, compliment my mother, and when it comes right down to it, all he wants is to get inside my pants."

Mitchell sat back on his chair, hearing the ensuing squeak.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that, right?" Mitchell cracked.

Brandy busted out laughing.

"No, there's nothing wrong with that, Mitchell. I love sex-at least I used to. I think about it often, I remember the best times and wonder when they're going to happen again. I'd just hate to think that the best times are over."

"Well, you've just met me," Mitchell cracked with a smile.

They had finished their dinners. The pasta and salad and bread were great. The last pour of the wine was split between their glasses. Mitchell helped her clear the table and stood beside her while she loaded up the dishwasher.

"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed softly. "I forgot all about dessert! I don't think there's anything in the house!"

Mitchell held up his hands and shrugged.

"Not to worry. We're not that far from Rebecca's ice cream parlor. Why don't we walk down to the ice cream shop for dessert and give our meals a chance to settle."

Brandy smiled. "That's a great idea!"

So they walked, hands in their pockets at first, then halfway downtown Mitchell took her hand and clasped it gently. Brandy grinned effusively. They ordered double ice cream cones and sat at a table outside. They talked and relaxed and watched as the sun set over the modest small town skyline.

"So have you dated much since your wife died?" Brandy asked, her pink tongue licked wantonly at the huge pile of ice cream packed into her cone.

"Actually, don't laugh. This is my first date."

"Get out!"

"For sure. First date. Here. With you."

"Wow! I'm flattered."

"I haven't really thought about it much till now, but lately I've been thinking that I need to get out. It's been well over a year."

Brandy leaned back in her chair, her delightfully active pink tongue licking at her ice cream. She savored a full lick from the cone and then leveled her eyes at Mitchell.

"So why me?"

"Please don't be offended, but because you were there."

"So if some sweet old lady followed you at the market she would have been the lucky lady?"

"Hardly. Not that I have anything against sweet old ladies, but I've seen you about and thought about you a few times, wondering just what was your deal. I sort of told myself that the next time I saw you, if I ever saw you, that I was going to ask you out or something. I didn't know what. Just something."

A group of motorcyclists roared past up Center Street and both pairs of eyes followed them. When their eyes met up again, Mitchell savored the dark luminous blue of hers.

"I'm glad that you did something," Brandy remarked. "This has been fun. Real nice fun."

It had been great fun for Mitchell. He was out with an interesting woman, they were getting along famously, and from the look in her eyes and the sweet lilt of her voice the attraction was mutual. After finishing their ice cream, they took the long way back to her place. Passing one of the neighbor's houses with a rose arbor over the front gate, Mitchell pinched a pair of aromatic roses off the vine, sniffed them and then stuffed them into her hair. Brandy giggled like a schoolgirl and Mitchell took her hand again. They both took a step back toward her parents' house, then stopped and turned to face each other.

"I hope you're for real," Brandy said.

"I'm here aren't I?"

In the gathering darkness, she leaned up toward him and they kissed, very tentatively at first, almost like junior high schoolers. Mitchell could feel the tension brewing between them. It felt like there were a ton of passions built up in both of them that seemed about to explode. With a pale nearly full moon above, they held hands and looked deeply into each other's eyes. Brandy rocked up onto her tiptoes and they kissed again. Mitchell eased his arms around her back, pulling her gently against him. Brandy's arms raised up over his shoulders and she pulled her mouth toward his. Her lips were soft and moist and tender and she let loose the lightest little whimper as their mouths pressed and ground against one another's.

"Think we should get a room?" Mitchell said in a gentle breathless voice when they finally parted.

"You're funny," Brandy remarked, looking up at him, her eyes large in the moonlight.

"Excuse me?"

"That's not a joke or something, Mitchell. You just say things that make me laugh. No one has done that in a long, long time."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They shared a brief brushing little kiss and then walked back up Grace Street to her parents' house. Once inside, Brandy raided her parents' liquor cabinet for some old cognac.