Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 03

She had already made an appointment with the gynaecologist for Thursday, and did get a prescription for the pill. Friday evening, she remembered her own supply of rubbers, but still went to the drugstore with some trepidation, but there was a woman druggist on duty, who didn't ask any questions and had the right brand. He was already home when she arrived and was as please to see her as she was pleased to see him again. She put away her clothes and replaced Annette's hidden supply of rubbers, and returned to find him preparing supper. Even though they still had one of Annette's, he was pleased that she had already been able to replenish their supply, enjoying her story about how she had felt buying them.

And so it went. She didn't tell him that she was on the pill until they could forego rubbers, and he was very pleased. That also allowed a new type of spontaneity, since on the weekends and in the evenings after a swim, they usually didn't wear anything. A week before her period, she warned him, but that also worked out very well; he had a business trip the first part of that week and hadn't yet told her, and the next month he managed to plan a trip to coincide.

Of course, they didn't make love every night and seldom as often as that first weekend together, and sometimes it was only very good. They just let it happen when it became evident that they were both wanting to. Friday evenings, of course, they usually did, often in the pool, if he didn't come home too late. He had been right about his being invited to dinner by colleagues. After the first round of these, however, he could excuse himself earlier, sometimes calling as he opened the door: "Let's go swimming." After the first time he said that and what transpired, it became a sure indication that they would, so sure, that one of them sometimes would tease the other: he maybe insisting that he really wanted to take a long swim; or she demurring: "Oh, I don't know. Do we really want to do it out here again?" They always did, and sometimes on the kitchen table after breakfast on Saturday - never in the dining room, where they only ate when they were clothed. But one evening she did crawl under the dining room table and get her dessert. He got his later.

They took a weekend trip to a lake in the hills, two hours from the city, arriving late Friday evening. She had great trepidations, worrying what the motel keeper would think and more worried about his reputation, but he assured her that only he would have to go and check in, telling her with a chuckle:

"I don't know the place, but I do know that a couple of the 'good parishioners' joked about it at an after-game party."

He was right; there were no problems. They didn't just make love in the motel room; they hiked in the hills, both tacitly understanding that they wanted to find a nice secluded spot and did - and a different one the next day, Sunday, still in the forenoon. They were able to joke about hoping he was missing the sermon that could have been problematic.

They managed to avoid interpersonal problems by respecting their understanding about not showing affection when sex wasn't involved, and not too much then, always pleased with themselves when they had managed to keep it in check, even able to joke about it as another big balloon, one they didn't want to burst, just deflate before it got too big.

When one of them disarmed a show of affection, the other would punch a finger up and say "whoosh!" and they would smile and retreat a little. After a couple of times that way, the one who felt the situation called for disarming would just point a finger, and the other would say "whoosh." That happened often enough; the affection was there, but they contained it.

Once, when she was sitting on him in the bedroom, their favorite position, they tested the limit - sex was involved. Looking at her, as she moved her hips on him, he murmured:

"I love to do this with you."

Barbara smiled slightly with a nod and squeezed him in confirmation, but then frowned slightly and held up her finger. He shook his head and said: "No 'whoosh' ... like this," glancing over to the mirror, where they both could see themselves. Their eyes met there. She smiled again with a soft "uhn" as he twitched in her and agreed softly:

"I love to feel you do that."

"I love the way you make me have to."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a stronger smile and churned her hips, making him twitch again as she clutched him.

"I love you to do that," he murmured with just the slightest pause after "you."

"Like I love you deep in me."

He rocked his hips up sharply, holding them there. Her stomach drew in as she exhaled with a moan, her eyes closing as she clutched him, and then murmured - her eyes still closed:

"Like that, there."

Her eyes opened as he relaxed his hips, and she sat very still on him as they looked in each other's eyes, hardly smiling; his action and her response having tilted the ambiguity of her remark away from off-limit interpretation. She felt a reflexive twitch in her and couldn't suppress her reflex to clutch him again, clenching her eyes closed. She opened her eyes, biting her lip. That happened again, less intensely, and she managed to keep her eyes open.

For a few moments more, she sat there, but that didn't happen again. Without smiling, they each held up a finger:

"Whoosh," he said.

"Whoosh, ... whooshy-whoosh-whoosh!" she agreed, eliciting a grin from him that she returned.

Their grins faded to mild smiles. Their "whooshes" seemed to have reduced their arousal; they remained still, just looking in each other's eyes as their grins faded. When she rose up, his cock dropped down, and they went for a swim.

They never repeated that experiment, but occasionally - apropos of nothing - she repeated her "whoosh, whooshy-whoosh-whoosh," and smiled at him. He would return her smile with a "whoosh," and they would return to what they were doing after this veiled exchange of affection, deflated before it was expressed. The first time she did that was when they were putting fresh sheets on the bed the next morning.

After a close call with no sex involved, and an especially loud "whoosh" - they had different levels of them by then - they agreed that if their balloon ever went "Bang!" it would be all over. They didn't discuss whether that meant their affair would be all over, or whether it meant it they would have admitted that they couldn't control expression their affection - with whatever other consequence.

He got letters and cards from his wife and daughters, sharing the girls' with Barbara and passages about them from his wife's letters. They all did go topless on the Côte d'Azur. One of the girls even alluded to it, writing on a postcard with view of the beach: "... and you should have seen us on the beach!"

His wife's letter - obviously written after she had read the card - said:

"YOU shouldn't have seen them, but everybody else sure did -- saw me too, eventually. Almost all the women did, some who made me look real good in comparison. The girls must have talked about it before. When we got on the beach, they went off a bit and just looked around, as if to assure themselves that what they'd heard (where?) was true (it was) and glanced at each other and "whoops!" our big girls popped their tops off! Didn't ask their Mom or even give her a glance. What would mine have been? What should it have been? They probably knew, but it was too late then. Actually, they have very nice figures, in case you haven't noticed (not too much, I hope). So I took mine off with less aplomb and more embarrassment than they showed, but no one seemed to notice. Oh they did, nodding with smirks. It looked like they had been practicing in the sun at home more than I knew, but that kept them from standing out like the other Americans here. OH! I must have been one of those!"

He and Barbara laughed, and she said: "Now we know."

"Um-hmm," he agreed and added with a chuckle:

"She continued the letter the next evening and admitted that someone had noticed her. I think she was a little pleased, yeah, that she had enjoyed using her French."

They smiled at each other a little quizzically and changed the subject.

Then they had to think about what would happen when his family returned, a week before Barbara's job ended. Obviously, she would be invited for dinner again, maybe even to swim. That would be a real problem, since by then she had an obviously seamless tan, one she was looking forward to impressing classmates with, although she wasn't sure how she was going to explain how she got it. She decided that she would beg off swimming with a remark women would understand. He told her about the public pool where she could have worked on her tan, but then said that he would say that he had given her guest membership at the country club - as compensation for her not being able to use their pool during the summer, which led to a discussion about whether she had visited him or not. They agreed - with some chuckles - that he had just invited her the first weekend and that they had ageed - no, that she had suggested - that it was inappropriate for her to use their pool when just he was there.

At the end of their last day together, one so filled with latent affection that they didn't dare touch each other, he gave Barbara a pearl necklace, a very nice pearl necklace, one that could only be explained to friends as an heirloom - and hidden from family. She had tears in her eyes, and the balloon almost burst. He even said softly:

"Don't burst it with a bang."

She managed a smile through her tears, and pointed a finger and whispered:

"Whooooosh," and more tears flowed.

He had to put his arm around her, and had tears in his own eyes, and they embrace each other very tightly and shared a last kiss, just an affectionate kiss, a very affectionate kiss, too affectionate, but neither wanted to disarm it or hear the other say "whoosh."

In bed that night, Barbara wondered if she had actually thanked him for necklace, something that bothered her every time she wore it - every time with a pang of emotion, even years later - until she gave it to her daughter. She told her the story of how it was given to her, and then the necklace was an heirloom, one with a nice a romantic story, but she still felt a slight pang when she saw her daughter wearing it.

The meeting with his family also worked out.

There was no pool invitation, and when she arrived for dinner, she really managed to see the interior of the house with fresh eyes. With fresh enthusiasm, he showed her his netsukes again, both of them successfully avoiding any innuendoes. At the table, of course, the conversation centered on the trip to Europe, and the younger daughter even alluded to their having gone topless, which Barbara heard with feigned surprise. He took the wind out of her sails by remarking that her mother had written him all about it.

"Really?" she replied, looking a bit crestfallen, and then changed the subject by asking Barbara if she had used their pool. He said that he had invited her the first weekend and told their story. His wife approved, saying that they both had done the correct thing, and the conversation returned to the trip.

When the evening ended, he again offered to drive her to her apartment. Of course, she couldn't refuse, although they both recognized that being alone together was last thing they needed. The scent of his now so familiar aftershave filled her nose. As soon as the car was out of the driveway, she said:

"Whoosh."

"Um-hmm, whoosh," he agreed, and they continued at intervals to exchange "whooshes."

"Triple needs," he said, but she responded immediate:

"Don't!"

"Whoosh!"

They managed to keep their balloon deflated with more "whooshes" until they arrived at her building. When she had opened the car door, they shook hands in the dark, hardly able to see each other's face. After a moment, she murmured:

"Warm eyes, ... but I can't feel them," and slipped her hand from his and almost ran to door of the building, sniffling as she found her key and then tried to find the keyhole.

He watched her until she had opened and closed the door without looking back, and murmured a final "whoosh" to himself. He leaned across and closed the car door and sat there for a few moments and then said softly: "No. ... Bang."