War And Peace on 22nd Street

She was dressed about the same as the night before except it looked like she'd decided it was too hot for a blouse. She was wearing a tank top that hugged her breasts like a second skin, and I didn't see any bra straps, so it must have had a built-in bra. Her jeans were about the same, tight enough I could see she had a nice ass.

She saw me looking at her and walked up to me with a scowl on her face.

"Why are you looking at me?"

I shrugged.

"I usually look at women, that's all. It doesn't mean anything."

"You're looking at my boobs right now, and I don't like the look on your face. Stop it."

I'd thought maybe, just maybe, she'd changed a little but she hadn't. I was only half way through my burger and she'd already fucked up my night.

"Look, I'm looking at you, not your boobs. They aren't that great anyway."

The look on her face told me I'd hurt her, and I was sorry for that, but I wasn't going to apologize. She did look hurt, but she was still frowning at me. She didn't say anything then. She just turned and walked down to the other end of the bar, climbed up on a stool, and motioned for Mary.

I went back to my burger, but I was pissed at both her and me. I was pissed at myself because I'd pretty much insulted her and I never do that. I was pissed at her for being such a bitch when in actuality, she did have nice breasts and her ass looked pretty great when she walked away.

I'd finished my burger and was on my third beer and talking with Jerry about what we'd done in the Army, when Mary tugged on my sleeve and then pulled me to the side.

"Rick, she made it to the restroom by herself, but there's no way I want to let her walk out of here by herself. Can you take her home again?"

Mary and I walked to where the blonde sat on her barstool. She looked at Mary and said, "I'll have another, thank you." Mary just frowned and shook her head.

"Honey, you've had enough for tonight. If I give you another, somebody's going to have to carry you home. Rick's going to walk with you to make sure you get there safe."

The blonde looked at me and frowned.

"You gonna grab my boobs again?"

I sighed.

"No, and I didn't the first time. If you don't want my help, just say so. The only reason I'm doing this in the first place is Mary asked me to."

The blonde said, "I don't need anybody's help", and slid off the barstool. If I hadn't caught her, she'd have ended up on the floor. As it was, she ended up with my arms under her armpits and her breasts pressed against my chest.

She pushed on my chest until I let her go, and then said, "See, you did it again."

Mary put her hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Honey, all Rick did was keep you from falling on your butt again. Now, let him take you home so you can sleep it off."

Taking her home was a little easier because she was walking fairly well, though I had to keep my arm around her waist to keep her on the sidewalk. We were half-way to her house when she said, "my boobs aren't bad like you said they were."

I thought she was probably so drunk she couldn't remember anything, but that made me feel like an ass.

"I didn't say they were bad. I just said they weren't that great. If you weren't such a bitch all the time and you didn't get so drunk, I might not think that way. What the hell is it with you anyway? Did somebody pull your bitch chain and make you this way?"

She muttered something I couldn't hear. I figured she was saying something about me again, and if she had, I was going to leave her ass on the sidewalk and go back and have another beer.

"What was that? I couldn't make out what you were saying.

"I said, you wouldn't understand even if I told you, which I'm not."

"Well, suit yourself, but being a bitch all the time and getting drunk on your ass on Saturday night isn't going to help you fix anything."

She shut up then. This time, she found her keys and let herself into her house. She didn't slam the door in my face, but she didn't say thank you either.

Sunday afternoon, about one, I'd finished a turkey sandwich for lunch and was looking forward to a movie on TV I wanted to see for the fifth time when there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, there she stood.

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

She was wearing the same clothes as the night before and they looked like she'd slept in them. She'd evidently used the bathroom at some point, and she hadn't gotten her jeans zipped up. I could see blue panties through the open fly.

"Sure. Come in and have a seat. You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Want some? It'll only take me a couple minutes to make a fresh pot."

When she nodded, I led her to my little kitchen, sat her down at the table, and then started my coffeemaker. She was sitting there with her head in her hands when I sat the cup in front of her.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Just cream".

I got the carton of half-and-half out of the refrigerator and sat it down in front of her. Her hand was shaking when she poured some into the cup. After she stirred it in, she took a sip.

"God, this is strong."

I chuckled.

"Yeah, well, as I remember hangovers, strong coffee helps about as much as anything. What did you want to talk to me about?"

She sat there staring into the coffee cup for about half a minute before she looked up at me.

"I keep trying to keep you away, but you keep helping me. Why?"

I shrugged.

"The first night, you looked like you needed help. I've been in that situation before, so I knew you'd never get home by yourself. When Mary asked me to help you, I was happy to do that.

"I didn't expect to be accused of trying to do anything with you though. Hell, I don't even know your name, and I'd have to know at least that much about you before I'd consider asking to get to know you even a little better. Last night was only because Mary asked me to help you again. If she hadn't asked, I'd have let you get your bitchy ass home by yourself."

She took another sip of coffee, made a face, and then murmured, "Cheryl...my name is Cheryl."

"OK, so you're Cheryl. Cheryl, what did I do to you that makes you think you need to keep me away, not that I've ever tried to get close to you?"

"Nothing...you didn't do anything to me."

"Then what's wrong?"

I hate it when women cry. There's not a damn thing you can do to make them stop, so you have to just sit there until they cry themselves out. That's what I did until Cheryl asked if I had something she could wipe her eyes with. After I handed her a paper towel, she dabbed at her eyes, then wiped her cheeks, and then looked at me.

"I don't think you want to hear what's wrong. I should just go home."

When she started to stand up, I put my hand on hers. It wasn't really something I thought about doing. It just happened.

"I think you should tell somebody or your drinking is going to get you hurt one of these days."

She sat back down and then looked at me like she was trying to decide if I was serious or not. I tried to tell her I was.

"Cheryl, if you don't want to tell me, that's OK, but you really need to get this off your chest."

She looked at the table then.

"You couldn't understand because you're a man."

"Well, I sure as hell can't if you don't tell me."

Cheryl took a deep breath then.

"I got divorced a month ago."

"OK, I did that two years ago, so I understand more than you think I do."

"No, you don't. It was the reason I got divorced you can't understand."

"I might understand if you tell me what the reason was."

She took another sip of her coffee, sat the cup down, and then looked at me. I saw another tear stream down her cheeks.

"Do I look alright to you? I mean, do I look like a woman you'd like to have sex with?"

That was a weird-ass question coming from a woman who'd accused me of wanting to do the same thing. I did answer her with the truth though.

"Well, sure. You're pretty, well right now you look a little rough, but you've been pretty the other times I've seen you. You have a nice figure too. What man wouldn't want to?"

She shook her head.

"No, I mean really have sex."

"Well, I thought that's what you meant...really having sex."

"That's not what my husband thought sex was, not for the last two years."

"Oh, and what did he think sex was?"

She looked back at her coffee cup again.

"He thought it meant doing things to me I didn't like."

Well that was more information than I thought I needed to know, and I sure as hell didn't want more. I couldn't just say nothing though.

"Well, if he did that, I can understand why you divorced him."

She sobbed a little.

"No you don't, because you can't imagine how he was. He'd tie me up and write things on me and then take my picture and send it in to one of those websites. He'd write things like, "bite my little tits until I scream" on my boobs, or put an arrow on my tummy pointing down and the words, "my big sloppy..." well you know what he called it. Once, he even wrote, "stick your"...I can't even say the word he used..."stick your thing in here" and then drew arrows pointing to my bottom.

"I didn't like any of those things but he wouldn't stop. He'd say those things to me all the time too, how my boobs were too little or how I wasn't tight enough and how when he did it in my bottom it still wasn't great but it was a lot better than the other way. He said there was something wrong with me if I didn't like what he was doing."

I kind of understood now, and I was more pissed off at her ex than I'd ever been with Cheryl.

"Cheryl, there wasn't anything wrong with you. He was just an asshole. Why the hell did you marry him in the first place."

"He wasn't like that at first. We just did it like normal and I liked doing it. Then he found this website and started to change. I don't know why he changed, but he did. After two years of that, I started to feel like maybe what he said was right and that made me really depressed. I was starting to hate how I looked and what he said about me and I couldn't live that way anymore. That's why I divorced him.

"I know he was wrong, but when I'm at home by myself, I start thinking about it and I wonder if I was wrong too. A wife is supposed to do what her husband wants. I did try to like what he did to me, but it was just so...so...it was just something I just couldn't make myself like, so it was my fault as much as his."

I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Cheryl, if he couldn't see what he had and be happy with that, there was something wrong with him. From what I understand, there are some couples who like that sort of thing, but it's both people who like it, not just one. It sounds like he didn't have any respect for you at all, and I can't tolerate men like that. If he walked in the door right now, I'd punch him in the face."

Cheryl looked up at me and I saw the first little smile I'd ever seen from her. It wasn't much of a smile, just a little lift of the corners of her mouth, but it was a long way from a frown.

"Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it to make me feel better?"

I had to laugh.

"You've accused me of grabbing you, and you've accused me of taking your house keys so I could take you home with me. Last night, you said I was staring at your chest when I wasn't and you told me to stop. If I had a reason to do anything to you, it would be to kick you out of my house. Why do you think I'd lie to you about what I think of your jerk ex-husband?"

Cheryl finished her coffee and then stood up.

"I think I should probably go home now."

I walked her to the door, and then watched her go down my walk. After I closed my door, I shook my head. Cheryl was one messed up woman and since she hadn't said anything to indicate otherwise, it didn't look like I'd changed her mind much. I hate seeing any woman think less of herself, and the only way Cheryl was going to change is if she realized there was nothing wrong with her and that she was only beating herself up for no reason.

Like the week before, I didn't see Cheryl all week. Unlike the week before, I cared now. The conversation we'd had let me understand a little about why she was like she was, but I thought that was just a reaction to what had happened to her. She must have been naïve as hell to believe her ex, and pretty submissive if she let him do that to her for over a year.

On Friday night, I went down to Dick's for another fish sandwich, and Trudy had just brought it to me when the bell on the door dinged.

Cheryl walked up to the bar, but she walked to the stool beside me instead of the one at the end. She smiled a little, just that same little curve at the corners of her mouth.

"Is this stool taken?"

I grinned.

"It will be after you sit down on it. What brings you here on a Friday? I thought Saturday was your night to party."

"I saw you leave your house and walk in this direction and I thought you might be coming here. I wanted to tell you thank you."

I asked her if I could by her a drink and she nodded.

"I'd like that, but just a club soda. I think I'm done with vodka for a while."

When I flagged down Mary and asked her to bring Cheryl a club soda, she raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. I knew she was dying to find out why Cheryl was sitting beside me. I just shrugged my shoulders, and when I did, Cheryl asked me why I had.

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?"

"You just grinned at the bartender and shrugged."

I smiled.

"Oh, that. Well, Mary is probably wondering if when I took you home twice, we managed to get better acquainted, that's all. I'm kind of wondering why you're sitting here too. Last Sunday, it didn't seem like you believed what I was saying, so I figured you be back here on Saturday night and I'd end up taking you home again."

Cheryl shook her head.

"No, I'm done with that. I did listen to you, but after hearing for two years that you're not very good at sex, you start to believe that. I thought about what you said all week, and I'm still not sure you really think what you said to me."

When I put my hand on Cheryl's, she pulled it away and put it on her lap.

"Please don't do that. It makes me think you want to...you know."

I looked at her and frowned.

"All I was trying to do was show you I was telling you the truth. I won't do it again. Maybe you should go back down to the end of the bar where you'll feel safer."

Cheryl's eyes looked really shiny, like she was going to cry again.

"You don't want to...to do it with me?"

"I didn't say that. I said I was just trying to show you I wasn't lying to you on Sunday. Touching your hand was just a way to show you that. It doesn't mean anything besides I thought it would make you feel a little better."

"Then you do want to?"

I sighed.

"Cheryl, sex isn't everything between a man and a woman. It's just a way they show each other how they feel, but there are a lot of other ways too. I don't know why you'd think I was trying to get you to do something when I already know what happened to you before. Even if I did want to, I'd never do that, never force you, and I'd never even ask unless I thought it was something you wanted."

Cheryl slid off her barstool and said she thought she should be going home. I watched her walk out the door and then swore under my breath at the asshole she'd been married to. He'd fucked with her mind for so long, she didn't know who she was or what she wanted anymore. She'd seemed scared to death when I touched her hand, but hopeful when she'd asked if I wanted to take her to bed. It must have felt to her like there was a war going on in her head.

Saturday I mowed my grass again, and then took my car to a car wash. I didn't see Cheryl all day except for a couple times when I saw her looking at me from a window. That night I went down to Dick's for a burger and fries. Mary was setting my beer on the bar in front of me when the bell on the door dinged. She looked up and said, "Well will you look at that."

I was already looking and I couldn't believe it either. Well, I could believe what I was seeing. I just couldn't believe Cheryl ever dressed like she was. In her jeans and tops, it was easy to see she had a nice ass and nice breasts. The black dress that hugged every curve turned that ass and those breasts into sensuous lines that would have drawn any man's eyes. The black heels and nylons just completed the picture of a very desirable woman.

When she walked up to the stool beside me, she smiled sheepishly.

"Is this seat taken?"

I smiled back.

"I don't know. Who are you?"

She grinned.

"You know who I am."

"Well, I thought you were Cheryl, but the Cheryl I remember didn't look like this."

Cheryl climbed up on the stool and when she did, the hem of her dress pulled up a little higher, high enough I could see those weren't panty hose. They were stockings because I could see a little of the lace top.

She wiggled a little and then told Mary she wanted a club soda. Mary winked at me when she walked away and Cheryl saw it.

"Why did she wink at you?"

"Well, you being dressed like you are and me staring at you like I am probably makes her think I'm gonna get lucky tonight. I can understand why. You look great."

Cheryl looked at the bar and I thought her cheeks got a little pinker.

"I just thought...I mean, I haven't worn a dress in ages, and I thought maybe it would make me feel better if I did."

I chuckled.

"Well, it sure makes me feel better."

Cheryl put her hand on the bar.

"If you touch my hand, I might believe that."

She did flinch a little when I put my hand over hers, but she didn't pull it away. Mary grinned when she sat the club soda down in front of Cheryl, but she didn't say anything. I felt a hand on my shoulder than, and turned to see Trudy standing there. She grinned.

"I know you want a burger and fries. Does your date want something from the kitchen too?"

I looked at Cheryl and gently squeezed her hand.

"Would you like a burger and fries? Liz makes a great burger and her fries are just like I like, crispy on the outside and done on the inside. It'll be my treat."

Cheryl smiled.

"I guess I could have a hamburger, but no fries. They'll just go right to my...well, you know."

When Trudy bustled off toward the kitchen, Cheryl leaned toward me and whispered, "Did she call me your date?"

"Yeah, but that is what it looks like. You're all dressed up and you're sitting beside me. What else would she think?"

"I don't know. You didn't ask me to come here. I just wanted to talk to you some more. I didn't think that would mean we were having a date."

I squeezed her hand again.

"Well, that's what it looks like to Trudy. You're sitting here and I just bought your dinner and drink. That sounds like a date to me too, even though it didn't start out that way."

We talked a little more while we ate. I found out why Cheryl's hours were a little strange. She worked as a manager in a department store and they didn't open until ten so she didn't leave home until nine. She had to stay there to tell the night clerks what to do, so she didn't usually get off work until about six. The only reason she'd been at Dick's on Friday night was she'd taken the afternoon off.

When we finished eating, Cheryl said she should probably be going home so I could do what I usually did on Saturday night. I had to laugh.

"Well, what I've been doing the last two Saturday nights is taking you home, so that's become what I usually do. I'll walk you home."

We were at her door when Cheryl touched my arm.

"I thought a lot more about what you said."

"Oh, and what did you decide?"

"I decided I was really confused. That's why I went to Dick's last night. I wanted you to un-confuse me, but you just made me more confused. That's why I came back tonight."