We had Our Time

"And now?"

"We've remained good friends. I love Matthew, just not in the way I should to consider settling down with him. Marriage, in other words."

Chad said he could relate. "Courtney and I probably shouldn't have married in the first place. We both sensed problems ahead because of various issues, but took the plunge anyway. After three years, we were done."

Whitney took a sip of wine. Then: "Was that the same with Whitney also? Too many issues?"

"Not really. Like you, neither of us was mature enough to take the next step, to settle down long-term. And we were in our early twenties, not teens. Other than not being ready, we got along great. We had a shared sense of humor--we laughed a lot. We compared notes on books we read. Whitney was on the shy side and sometimes it took a while for her to express herself. But I was patient, and she appreciated that. And the sex...well, I won't embarrass you."

She laughed. "I don't embarrass that easy. The sex was primo, I gather."

He nodded. "Primo and then some. But, like I said, there was so much more to our relationship. Whitney was much more than a--what did you call it?--much more than a repository for my horny self." Chad watched as Whitney doubled over in a guffaw, a sure sign that she had a good sense of self-deprecating humor. "You liked that one, huh?" he asked.

"Loved it," she said. "It shows that you were paying attention to what I say. Is Whitney still married, do you know?"

"No. She and Steve divorced a year ago. I found that out through a google search. They were married over twenty years."

"Chad, correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds to me like you really miss her. I mean, to go out of your way for that kind of information."

After chewing a bite of eggplant and sipping his wine, he said, "Well, you know what lots of us say about good times gone by--those were the days. Of course, you might be a bit too young to think that way yet."

"Oh, I've had my memorable moments," she said. She held up her glass of wine, as if she were about to give a toast. "Chad, I hope you don't think this is absurd, but I'm like, feeling one of those moments right now, just being with you here and being able to discuss personal issues. You make me feel comfortable enough for me to do that. Plus, I think you're cute." She sipped her wine.

"Thanks, I'm glad you feel that way. I feel comfortable with you also. Comfortable enough to kiss you." Despite what she had already told him, he couldn't be sure if she felt THAT comfortable.

But then: "So why don't you? All right, we're in a private place. But, like I said, I don't embarrass easy. But if you'd rather wait until we leave..."

She sat there grinning at him, which he took as a challenge to make good on what he said. "Okay, here goes." He stood up, then leaned over the table. But he didn't have to lean too far because she stood and met him halfway for a brief kiss while surrounded by other diners, busy enough with their own lives either not to notice or care.

"I knew you were young at heart," Whitney said when they resumed their seats. "That was nice."

"Nice enough for you to take a drive with me down the coast after dinner?"

"We think alike. I was going to suggest a walk on the beach somewhere south of West Palm."

*****

For the first time since leaving Maryland, Chad wasn't thinking of his "mission" for being in Florida. In fact, he wasn't thinking of anything other than how nice Whitney Chaney smelled and how wonderful it felt to hold and kiss her, standing by the Malibu just after they had left the restaurant. The resemblance between the young Whitney, in face and body type, to Whitney the older, made him think of time warps.

When they decoupled, she said, "I almost can't believe that we met just hours ago. Did you and the other Whitney kiss like this so soon after you met?"

"It took a while," he said. "The attraction was there, but it took a while for us to get comfortable with one other. The kind of easy communication I've had so far with you, took longer with her."

"You know, Chad, I'm trying to picture what she looked like."

Chad pulled from his wallet a color pic of him and Whitney Lyons posing arm in arm on Santa Monica Beach in California. She's in a blue and yellow one-piece, while Chad wears black, knee-high trunks. Whitney's brown eyes widened as she held it close to her face. "She's got my wide hips and long legs. And her face, the long nose and full mouth and her sleepy brown eyes. No wonder I remind you of her. And look at you. Athletic looking then, same as you are now. When was this taken?"

"Around nineteen-ninety. She's not on Facebook, so I have no idea what she looks like today."

"There must be a special place in your heart for her to keep that photo in your wallet."

He shrugged. "Well, those were the days. What else can I say?" A lot more, he knew, and also knew to keep his mouth shut.

Whitney gave him back the pic. Then she said, "Do we kiss alike? You don't have to answer that."

"I can't answer that, it's been so long. For the record, I love the way you kiss. Can't imagine it was any better with the other Whitney."

"Right back atcha, man. Cause' I love the way you kiss also and look forward to more on the beach."

Chad drove south on Route 1. Then he took the 704 Bridge to Royal Palm Way and then to route A1A south (South Ocean Boulevard) to Phipps Ocean Park Beach, another South Florida resort with clean beaches and a few hotels nearby.

After Chad pulled into a parking lot, they slipped off their shoes and began to walk along the elevated wood boardwalk that led to the beach. Shadows crept away with the setting sun, the last of its rays casting a warm glow on the ocean, blue and as placid as a lake in its early evening slumber.

Chad's fairytale scenario with the other Whitney popped into his head--the one where they'd renew their romance and neck passionately by the ocean amid swaying palm trees and tropical breezes. So unrealistic, so crazy and so in the realm of fantasy. But it wasn't any more realistic to be where he was at this very moment, walking hand in hand with another Whitney and not just any Whitney but one that so reminded him of the Whitney from his youth. No Twilight Zone rerun episode he had ever watched featured a plot like this. You couldn't make it up. Then again, perhaps you could because you'd have to. Things like this just didn't happen. Except it was happening and he could scarcely believe it.

Strolling along the water's edge, Chad noticed that Whitney appeared pensive, lost in thought. When he asked what she was thinking, she said, "Well, remember at the pool when I said something about being here to have fun before getting serious about life?" Chad said he did. "So, I was just thinking about what I wanted to do when I grow up. I once thought of going into law, and maybe I will. But now I'm not so sure. College was fun, almost an extension of my childhood is the way it felt. Sheltered in the ivory tower of academe. Mommy and daddy paying the bills. But now that I'm all grown up...well, I think you know what I mean."

"Finding yourself, you mean. Defining yourself. Grabbing onto some kind of identity. Stuff like that, I'd guess."

"You're a perceptive guy, Chad."

"No, just older and a little wiser because I'm older. I went through the same kind of identity crisis. I think most of us do at your age. Believe me, I get it."

"So how did you resolve it?"

"I'm not sure I ever did. Not fully. We're all looking for some kind of holy grail of being that will make our lives complete. But if you mean professionally, I took one of those standardized tests the state gives, then got interviewed, then got hired. Then, after twenty-five years, I felt enough was enough, collected a pension and then pursued something else. I still question if that was the right move, whether I should have stayed on longer before resigning. But, so far, it's worked out. My passions keep me going, my guitar and exercise. Don't worry so much. Things will work out for you, too."

She stopped walking and turned to face him. Holding both his hands, she said, "I appreciate your insight. Did you pack your guitar?" He nodded. "Would you mind playing something for me?"

"Sure, if you have the time."

"I'll make the time."

"Great. Now, would you mind if we resume doing what we did after leaving the restaurant?"

"I'd only mind if we didn't. Now kiss me already."

And he did, right there beside the warm Florida ocean in the fading light of a hot day, tropical breezes blowing around him and this amazing girl, so young and lovely and so improbably into him, it appeared. The feel and taste and scent of her, juxtaposed by a long-ago past with another lovely girl, long remembered and, in a sense, recaptured in this Whitney's tender embrace. Did it get any better than this? If so, he couldn't imagine how.

When they finally parted, he said, "Whitney, being with you like this makes me not want to return home."

Her beautiful brown eyes gazing up at him said that her emotions were in sync with his. She embraced him again and said, "I hope we can see each other tomorrow. Maybe come here, lie on the beach all day, rub sunscreen over each other's bodies and then, at night, do a lot more. Can you put that on your itinerary?"

"I'd be an idiot not to."

But wait. He had other plans. Or at least he did. Surely, he wouldn't give up being with Whitney Chaney to drop by an old girlfriend's house--if she even still lived there. Yes, he was still curious; and yes, it might be interesting to see what might or might not happen. But if there was one nugget of wisdom gleaned from his over forty years of life, it's that when you have a great thing going, you avoid doing things that might screw it up.

He kept that in mind when they returned to the Marriott and he kissed her goodnight in the hotel lobby. He thought of inviting her to his room, but then dismissed the idea. Better to keep the current "pace" and stick with the itinerary. Tomorrow was another day.

*****

Whitney insisted on paying for the lounge chairs they rented at Ocean Park Beach. "You paid for dinner last night," she said. "Let me do this."

He did, and he also let her rub sunscreen over his back and she let him do the same and then some. The then some approached the edge of what might be called indecent behavior on a public beach. But the beach was sparsely populated and keeping their hands (and lips) off one another wasn't an option. "This day certainly has its ups and downs," Whitney quipped in reference to Chad's cock. It seesawed throughout the day, becoming erect during their more intimate moments, then flaccid again when they weren't pressing their bodies together while engaged in passionate necking.

They managed to swim also, and for Northerners like them, the bathtub-like Florida water in September was a luxury. It was also potentially dangerous, for Florida led the nation in shark attacks. Mindful of that, they stayed vigilant, watching for dorsal fins, a telltale sign to scoot back to shore ASAP.

Warm water, no sharks, hot, passionate necking with a hot, young chick. Not to mention a cooler that Chad brought along that kept their drinks and lunch cold and fresh. What more could one want for a day at the beach? Chad couldn't think of a thing except what the night might bring.

He had an idea when Whitney called her girlfriends after they got into the car. "I'll be out for the rest of the evening," she said to Jasmine. Turning to Chad, she said, "Now don't jump in the shower right away after we get back to the Marriott. I'll collect the clothes I need, then meet you in your room. I'd love to shower with you. Is that okay?"

"More than okay. We'll make beautiful soap bubbles together. Then we'll get dressed, have dinner, then return to my room where I'll serenade you with a few songs from my limited repertoire. How's that for an itinerary?"

"One that I endorse with heart and soul."

*****

Back at the Marriott, Chad, still in his swim suit, sat at a desk chair, waiting for Whitney to arrive. Things were happening at breakneck speed. A young girl he met only twenty-four hours ago, liked him enough to presumably spend the night with him. At least that's the way he interpreted "for the rest of the evening." He hoped she liked his singing and playing. Whitney Lyons had. In fact, he once gave an impromptu "concert" for her parents in their family living room. He took up acoustic guitar at age fifteen. He never formed a rock band or harbored ambitions to get into Julliard. It was for his own personal gratification and for others who enjoyed hearing him play.

Thoughts of Whitney the older began to emerge, the good times they shared, what she might look like now and how she might react if he went through with his original plan. It was only for a few minutes, but those few minutes were the longest he had devoted to nostalgic rumination since meeting the younger Whitney. Then he heard a knock on his door and a voice: "Chad, it's me. Time for that shower."

Whitney walked in, still in her swim suit, carrying a bag of clean clothes.

Moments later, in the cubicle-like confines of the shower, she and Chad were making beautiful soap bubbles together. The smooth, silky feel and lovely scent of a young girl's skin--there's nothing like it, Chad thought. Beautiful skin--that's another thing that this girl had that reminded him of the other Whitney. After they shampooed, they embraced and kissed under the jets of warm water, steaming up the bathroom in more ways than one.

They continued to carry on once they dried off. Chad thought they'd wait until after dinner. But when Whitney pressed the issue, wrapping her hand around his erect cock in the bedroom, there was no holding back, especially after she professed to being on birth control.

There wasn't much foreplay--most of that took place in the shower. This was an extension of what they had done on the beach, a culmination of mutual desire and passion that had been building for hours and now found release in the privacy of a hotel room on a queen-sized bed. Chad hardly knew this girl from Pennsylvania, yet her physical likeness to the other Whitney, coupled with the ease by which they communicated, made him feel as if he'd known her for much longer.

"I think we fit together quite well," he said, his body between her legs, those long and shapely legs of hers wrapped tightly around his waist. "Agreed?"

"Agreed, yes, yes!" she cried between her soft moaning. "We certainly do."

The warm, loving way she looked up at him told Chad that she meant it. And then, with the warm, loving way she responded when he leaned down and kissed her, reinforced it. He could see himself falling in love with this girl by the time he left Florida. It was a thought--as much as anyone could think doing this--that raced through his mind watching her climax, one not totally in sync with his but damn close. And then, moments later, when he was holding her, and she said, "Chad, I've never fallen in love with a guy this soon after I met him. But what you've done for me so far is making me think that I just might--" he knew it was almost a fait accompli.

*****

"So, what's on your playlist tonight?" Whitney asked.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, just a few feet from where Chad sat on the room desk chair, tuning his six-string Martin. They were back from dinner and the concert was about to begin.

"Mostly Beatles and maybe some Bach," he said.

"You play rock AND classical?"

"I do, but not much classical except Bach."

"Wow! Did you take lessons?"

"I mostly taught myself on the pop side. We had an old neighbor who played classical guitar. One day, he said, 'You haven't heard anything until you've heard Bach.' He was right. I loved the music, and he gave me lessons. Of course, it wasn't that simple. I practiced and practiced until my fingers blistered."

After another minute of tuning, he said, "Okay, so this song is on The Beatles' Help album. The British version, anyway. Underrated in my opinion, and one of my top picks from the Fab Four.

'I've just seen a face

I can't forget the time or place

Where we just met

She's just the girl for me

And I want the whole world to see we've met...'"

Whitney clapped enthusiastically after Chad completed the song. "Bravo, I loved it. You're really good. Jasmine and Sarah should hear you. If they weren't out, I'd call them in. Let's hear more. Please."

"Thanks. I put the Beatles and Bach in the same category, classical music of their respective genres. The Beatles broke up right before I was born. I first got into them listening to my parents' vinyl and CD collection. As you know, Paul still performs live, drawing huge crowds."

He then launched into Yesterday, followed by Girl, Here There and Everywhere, Norwegian Wood and Michelle.

Whitney knew some of those songs through her online music and oldie radio stations. J.S. Bach she'd heard of but that was about it, though she recognized Joy of Man's Desiring. "From somewhere," she said. "Maybe church. You play beautifully, Chad. Thanks."

Just after Chad cased his guitar, Whitney said, "You're some guy, Chad Houston. A guy in his forties with a twenty-something bod who can play Beatles and Bach and make a girl over twenty years younger swoon."

Chad began running his fingers through her hair. "I don't know about that last part. But if I do that for you, all the better."

"You do that for me. And I don't know about you, but I'm incredibly horny right now. Hearing you play got me wet all over again."

Pressing his body to hers, Chad said, "Whitney, I've been horny ever since I laid eyes on you at the pool."

They melted into one another's arms for a long passionate kiss. Then Whitney said, "We're leaving for Orlando the day after tomorrow. So I'd like to spend as much time with you as I can."

"I'd love that but I also wouldn't want to keep you from your friends." He chuckled. "They probably hate me by now."

She laughed. "No, they're cool with it. They think it's cute. In fact, they suggested that we all spend time at the pool tomorrow. If that's okay with you."

"Fine with me."

"Good. Meanwhile, I want you all to myself tonight. I brought a sexy nightie along."

"Can't wait to see it."

He didn't have to wait long. By the time he disrobed and got under the covers, she came out of the bathroom wearing that nightie sans panties. Sexy for sure, a short, yellow, see-through thing that got Chad's cock to go boing! before she even got into bed.

On the bed with knees bent and legs tucked under her, she stroked it with her mouth and hand. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you like my little outfit."

He trained his eyes on her fabulous thighs and her very wet pussy between them. "Yes, and the sexy, amazing girl wearing it even more."

She slipped on top, then guided him into her. "Ohmygod, Chad, what you do for me!"

Of course, the feeling was mutual. He didn't have to say it--he sensed she knew by the way he looked at her, the tender and passionate way he kissed her. He loved the way her hair fell over her face when she bent over to kiss him--so sensuous, so erotic. She was adorable and he adored her and he knew how depressed he'd feel when she left for Orlando. He did his best to banish such thoughts from his mind, for now was neither the time or place. Now was the time to just enjoy her while he had her, enjoy the soft contours of her body, her velvet-smooth skin, her beautiful face and, most of all, the affection she poured down on him, the warm smile, the moans of pleasure mixed with endearing phrases. He knew it was moments like this that he'd treasure for the rest of his life.

*****

Whitney made good about wanting to keep Chad company for the remainder of her stay in West Palm. They went out for breakfast, took a walk and then lounged around the pool with Jasmine and Sarah. "You must hear Chad play guitar," Whitney insisted. Chad demurred at first, thinking that they might not be truly interested. But then, when Jasmine and Sarah prodded him to play, he fetched it from his room, came back and serenaded them by the pool. They even joined in the singing with songs they knew.