Walkabout

Chapter 1: A Pub on a Rainy Day

He had been riding the National Rail since his arrival in London three weeks ago. There were no destinations, only stops, only places where he would leave the train and walk, head down, carrying a backpack. The Edinburgh-bound train made a stop in the small town of Airdrie, and after a few moments of apparent indecision, he rose from his seat and stepped onto the platform.

It was late afternoon, and rain fell, the cold wind stinging his face. A pub in a stone building stood on a corner, and he walked to it, pulling on the heavy wooden door to gain entry.

The place was damp, but everything was wet this time of year in this country. He shook off the rain, stomped his feet twice, and moved away from the other customers to an empty table. Once his backpack and coat had been secured, he walked to the bar and secured a pint. The other six or eight patrons in the pub ignored him.

He pulled his phone from a pocket and studied it silently, sipping his pint. Just as he had reached the bottom of his glass, a woman appeared and stood behind the other chair at the table.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked.

Before he could respond, she said, "Good. I'm Peggy. How do you do?"

He stared at her. She held her hand out to him and said, "Peggy."

He shook it. "Jim Martin," he said. "You're American?"

She nodded. "And so are you." She motioned to the two empty glasses on the table and said, "Maybe we should do something about this?"

"Yes!" He said, rising. "I'll be right back."

He returned a minute later with two fresh pints.

The conversation stalled until she said, "Those dunderheads thought you were a lost tourist. Callum, the barkeep, thinks you missed your tour bus. But I've got five quid betting you're on the run from a bank heist. So, can you settle our bet?"

He snickered. "None of the above, I'm afraid. I'm just wandering, I guess. I needed to clear my head, so I came to the UK and started riding the rails."

"You're just stopping in random towns?" She asked.

"That's right," he said, sipping his pint. "It's my version of a walkabout."

"Walkabout?"

"It's an Australian thing, best I can tell," he said. "So, no bank job and no tour bus. I just got off the train."

"Randomly?" She said, squinting.

"Pretty much," he said with a smile. "Now, I've explained how I've come to be here. How is it we find you here, too?"

"That's a long story," she said. "Have you eaten?"

He shook his head. "No, and I've not eaten all day. I guess I forgot. Can you recommend a place?"

She drained her pint and said, "I can do better than that. I can walk you to the restaurant and give you stimulating conversation while we eat."

He smiled and finished his pint before standing. "I would be delighted," he said.

Chapter 2: Dinner

They emerged from the pub into the misty rain. She slipped her arm into his and pointed him toward dinner. Though her hood was up to ward off the shower, he could still see her blonde hair peeking out and her smile when she looked at him. Jim considered himself average height, but Peggy was only a few inches shorter, thin, elegant, and graceful. Her manner, though, was gregarious and joyful.

The restaurant was intimate, and the two were seated in the quietest area in the tiny space.

He looked over the menu but set it aside quickly, returning his attention to her. "It was lucky you found me," he said, "I might have starved." Then he noticed she had not looked at the menu at all. "Please," he said, "you're eating, right?"

"Of course," she said. "I know the menu by heart. What are you having?"

"Bangers and mash," he said.

"Good choice," she replied. Then the two looked at each other for a few moments. "Tell me more about this walkabout. I'm guessing a man doesn't just pick up one day and disappear to wander the Earth."

He looked down. "No," he said.

She reached across the table and held his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to press."

He squeezed her hand, then released it. "It's OK. I've not talked to anybody for nearly a month, and I guess I'm a little out of practice."

She shook her head, and he shrugged.

"Are you sure you want to hear it?" He asked. "I don't want to burden you."

She said, "I'd like to listen if you want to tell me."

Jim took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. Without making eye contact, he began. "I was married to Joni for twenty-four years. I lost her two years ago. The first year was the funeral, friends trying to help, and endless paperwork. You're so busy that you don't have time to internalize what's happened. Then, suddenly, you're alone for the first time in years, and you're completely lost. I needed to grieve and find a way to move on with my life, but I couldn't do it trapped in that house. So I threw some clothes in a backpack, found my passport, and took the next flight to Heathrow. After moving around London for a week, I rode trains from city to city. Now I'm here."

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Peggy. "Everyone grieves differently. Is this helping? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," he said, "I've found a way to be at peace with it, but something still isn't right."

She nodded, and there was a lull in the conversation. She said, "Where's home?"

"The Berkshires in Massachusetts," he said. "We moved there a couple of years before she died. She dreamed of living there close to Tanglewood and the mountains, which is very peaceful."

"It sounds lovely," she said.

Their food was served, and they began to eat.

"Where are you staying?" She asked.

"Um--"

"You don't have a place yet, do you?" She said. It was not a question.

"No," he admitted. "That is a downside of this approach."

"I have a place in mind," she said. Then she smiled and continued to eat.

"I've not talked this much to anyone in months," he said. "Certainly, I've not talked about myself like this. I'm being rude. Please, tell me about yourself. How did you come to be in--"

He paused, having forgotten the name of the town.

"Airdrie?" She said.

"Yes," he replied. "Another downside of my approach to travel."

"I'm originally from Connecticut, got my degree from U-Conn, and worked in financial services," she said. "It was a big international outfit. One day there was this Scotsman on a work assignment in our office. He was young and handsome and funny. I loved the way he talked. It wasn't just his accent that was delicious; it was all those words he used, like knackered and chuffed. I started keeping a notebook with them. It was so fun."

Jim smiled, put his fork down, and forgot about his meal.

"We went to dinner, then to another dinner, a real date, then he kissed me. That was it," she said, laughing. "We eventually married, and I moved back with him here."

There was a pause, and Jim's face fell. He watched her gaze drop.

"I lost him five years ago, so I know about your pain," she said.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

She lifted her eyes and smiled. "I was, too, but I found a way to be happy for the time we had together without being angry that it didn't last. I think that's the best we can do."

He nodded, and they ate in silence.

As they walked out of the restaurant, she said, "I know where you can stay. I'll just walk you there."

"That's very kind," he said, "are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she said.

He adjusted his backpack, pulled his coat closed, and held his arm out for her. They walked only a few blocks when she walked to the front door of a small house. He stood, looking confused.

"Don't just stand there," she said.

"Don't we need to call ahead?" He asked.

"I don't think so," she said. "This is my house. Come on. I've got a guest room. In you go!"

He followed her in, shucked his coat off, and removed his shoes. Peggy hung their coats on hooks and turned on the lights.

"Please have a seat," she said. "What are you drinking?"

"Um--"

"Let me give you a hint: what country are you in?" She said with a giggle.

"Scotch," he said with a grin.

"Good choice," she said.

There was a small sofa not much bigger than a loveseat, and he took one end. She arrived moments later with two glasses of single malt and sat beside him. "slàinte" she said.

"Your good health," he said, and they touched glasses.

"Very good," she said. "Learn that from your guidebook?"

"One of the few things I remembered," he said, chuckling. He glanced around and said, "This is a beautiful house." He smiled but looked puzzled.

She understood and shrugged. "Yeah," she said, "a little bit of a fib about the guest room. This is a one-bedroom bungalow, so there is no guest room. No worries. I'm sure we can accommodate you."

He raised his glass and said, "I'd be grateful for any hospitality you provide. You're very generous in inviting me into your home."

She smiled and said, "I enjoy the company. Plus, you're American, so it's kind of like news from home."

He gazed into his drink. The rain beat against the windows providing a symphony of white noise and a feeling of isolation. She frowned while looking at him, seeing his struggle. After taking a deep breath, she moved closer and said, "Why did you run?"

He was knocked out of his stupor. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you run?" She asked.

"I didn't run anywhere. What do you mean?" He shifted in his seat to face her better.

She held her glass gently with both hands in her lap and said softly, "A man who isn't running to something is running away from something. You threw clothes in a bag, grabbed a passport and cash, and fled the country. I'm not saying you broke the law, but you ran. I'm just wondering if you knew why."

He thought for a moment. There was wisdom in those words, but a man in the middle of something like this emotionally will have trouble seeing through it. After a couple of false starts, he said, "I'm not sure."

She nodded solemnly and waited to see if he would amend his statement. Nothing came. Speaking softly, she said, "If you'll forgive me, I might have a possible answer if you want to hear it."

He nodded and looked at her with his drink in his hand, his mouth clamped shut and apprehension on his face. The wind picked up, and the rain pelted the house.

"When I lost Gus," she said, "it took a long time for me to feel like I'd processed what had happened. But there came a day when I thought I was ready to move on, to keep his memory and love he had for me, but to accept that the chapter in my life with him had closed. That wasn't the end of it, though. I was filled with guilt, believing that by trying to move on, I'd betrayed his memory and all that we'd built together. It wasn't rational, maybe things like this never are, but it was real, and I wanted to run, just like you did."

His eyes, fixed on her while she spoke, drifted off her to the floor. He said nothing.

"I don't know if this is how you feel or if you've found yourself in the same guilt trap I had, but if you have, I understand where you are because I've been there. You're an honorable man trying to honor your wife's memory. But I believe you already have. You're not giving her up; you're letting her go."

Jim hung his head, and tears came. He held his fingers to his eyes and cleared his throat. "You're right. I've felt guilty, and she'd be furious with me for not living just because she's gone. I guess I did run." He tried to smile. "Thank you."

She took his drink and placed the two glasses on a table. Then she stood in front of him and climbed onto his lap, knees straddling him, her arms around his neck. His eyes went wide, but he found his hands on her waist.

"I'm a little scared right now," she said. "I've never been this forward with anyone. But I think you deserve some clarity after all your hours in the air and on trains. I think you still love the memory of your wife, but you also want to find a way to move on, to end your loneliness. Please forgive me, but I want to do this."

She leaned forward and kissed him. It was soft and warm, her hands wandering into his hair and his hands squeezing her. When the kiss broke, she leaned back and met his gaze. A small smile appeared on his face, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was really nice," he said. Then he shook his head and said, "God, I sound like a high school kid."

She held a finger to his lips and said. "Shh. It was wonderful. You're the first man I've kissed since Gus died." She shifted on his lap and brought his hands to her breasts. "I'm lonely, Jim, and selfish. I'm inviting you to my bed, but I promise I have no expectations. You can hold me, kiss me, or make love to me. Just having you here has made me very happy."

"You're a beautiful woman," he said. He moved a hand to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. "And you're kind, even taking in a lost soul off the street."

She kissed him again, saying, "I took in a kind and gentle soul, a kindred spirit."

"How did you know?" He asked.

"I didn't know," she admitted, "but I hoped you were close to getting through this. The guilt phase was awful for me. Anything I could do to help you out of it was worth a try."

He pulled her into an embrace and whispered, "Thank you."

Chapter 3: A Gentle Night

She whispered in his ear, "Come to bed with me," as she eased off his lap and stood. When she spied the glass of Scotch, she glanced back at Jim, winked, and drained the glass. He stood and did the same with his glass, chuckling.

The lights were extinguished one by one as they moved to the bedroom hand-in-hand. She led him to the side of the bed, seating him and stepping between his legs to draw him in and kiss him. When they separated, he looked down and cleared his throat.

"I'm nervous," he said quietly. "I've not been with anyone but Joni all these years."

Peggy lifted his chin and made him see her smile. "I'm nervous, too. Nobody but Gus and my doctor has seen me naked this century. I'm not a young woman anymore," she said, her voice breaking at the end.

He placed his hands on her arms at the shoulder. "Hey," he said, "I think you're beautiful. I thought so the moment I saw you. As for the other stuff, I have about a quarter-century of experience with women, and I can't imagine anything would surprise or disappoint me."

Peggy wore a cardigan sweater with only a few buttons over her blouse. Jim slid his hands from her shoulders to the front of her sweater, brushing a breast in passing and landing on the top button. The buttons were freed one by one, and he turned her to slip the sweater off her arms.

Her blouse was gray flannel, more for protection against the cold than for style. Jim began at the bottom, slipping each button from its hole until he had reached the bottom of her breasts. Her breath became ragged.

He looked at her and said, "I want to see how beautiful you are, but I don't want to hurry. Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said in a whisper.

He lifted the blouse and the undergarment beneath to find her belly. He bent slightly and kissed it.

"Oh, god," she said, reaching for his shoulders.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, grabbing her ass. Her hands were in his hair and neck, pulling him closer. The kiss continued, and his hands returned to the buttons, climbing, finally reaching the top, and the blouse fell open. When the cuffs were released, the blouse slipped easily from her.

Her breasts were free under the thin layer of undergarment. Jim passed a thumb over a nub and heard her sigh. "It's too cold in here to make you stand naked. That would be cruel. Maybe the bed would be warmer?"

Peggy smiled and said, "I won't be cheated." After she pulled him to his feet, she quickly disposed of his shirt and undergarment. He stood before her bare-chested, and she ran her hands over his torso and dragged her fingernails down his back.

Jim grunted his approval, dropping his head and kissing her.

She began laughing. "Oh my god, Jim, I'm freezing! I promise we can do this again in a warm hotel room. But now I want to do my bathroom run and get under the covers!"

He kissed her forehead and walked to the front of the house, shouting over his shoulder, "I'm going to get my bathroom stuff!"

Within minutes they were both under the covers and shivering but happy. They held each other and kissed until they forgot about the cold.

"I meant what I said," Peggy whispered. "I ambushed you tonight. I'm happy to snuggle and soak up your warmth if you're uncomfortable moving this fast. I've not had a man in my bed since Gus, and I forgot how nice it is."

Her head on his shoulder and leg draped languidly over his thigh, his face bore an expression of pure contentment. He glanced at her and said, "I didn't dream this would happen on this trip, so I don't have any protection. I'm sorry."

"I'm still on the pill," she said. "After all this time, I guess it was just habit." Then she pulled herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. "I want to make love to you, but only if you're ready." Then she looked away and said, "And only if you want me."

The streetlights painted the darkness with stripes of soft light, illuminating faces and paths along the floor. Jim moved, putting Peggy on her back and himself between her legs, lifting her knees, and bringing his lips to her ear.

"I want you," he said quietly. "I feel your body beneath me and your warmth. Yes, I want to cuddle with you and have you fall asleep in my arms, but first, I want to make love to you, fill you, and stare into your eyes when I cum in you."

Her arms flew around his neck, pulling him into another passionate kiss. Then she breathed into his ear, "Please, I want to suck it. Let me suck it and get you hard."

He moved up, straddling her, and stuck his soft cock in her mouth. It's said that enthusiasm will trump technique, but she had both. When she sucked his ball sack into her mouth, he nearly screamed. Her tongue batted the testicles within while her hand jacked his dick, her slobbering spit lubricating the action.

When she returned to sucking his cock he felt a hand on his ass drawing him in, sending his cock deeper into her mouth, a tongue licking the underside of his dick and his ball sack. She gagged a few times, pulling his prick from her mouth and catching her breath. She made eye contact, transmitting her joy, lust, and desires, ensuring he knew he was wanted.

He was hard, and she nodded that he should sink back between her legs and fuck her. Except he didn't. Instead, he kept sliding down until his mouth was on her pussy.

"Oh, shit!" She shouted.

He licked from the bottom of her lips to the top, then sucked at the special place where her button hid. His tongue fucked her hole, his lips teased her outer lips, and then her nub. When she was wet enough, he slipped in a finger and probed for the G-spot. It was just a little "come hither" motion, slowly, gently, combined with the licking and sucking. She sighed, and her ass moved to meet his probes.

The assault continued with the finger, the tongue, the lips sucking, probing, kissing her inner thighs, his nose rubbing her mound, and his obscene sounds of pleasure with each motion. Her hands were on his head, in his hair, pulling his mouth to her clit, her ass rising to meet each tickle from the finger rubbing the G-spot. There was no warning, just a flood.

"Fuck!" She shouted, her legs snapping around his head. "Fuck!" Her ass rose to fuck his mouth, now locked on her clit. "Fuck!"

After a minute, she pushed him off and rolled to her side, shaking, vibrating, breath ragged and short. He reached to touch her, but she slapped his hand away. "No! Too sensitive!"

He waited with a self-serving grin on his face. When she finally turned to face him, she said, "I guess you're proud of yourself."

He chucked and nodded. "I'm old school," he said, "and believe ladies should cum first."