Of all the many tales that came out of Oakshire over the years, the one that involved a college lacrosse player and his sexy older neighbor, is arguably the most compelling.
Oakshire was a sub-division in the pre-World War Two development of upper-middleclass Oakridge. The Ridge, as some had called it early on, was on the urban fringes of Baltimore. In square footage, the houses paled beside the suburban McMansions that sprang up years later. Still, they were substantial for the times, three to four bedroom, two-bath abodes that sat on lawns big enough for games like badminton, with enough space left over for additions that residents began to add on when Eisenhower was president.
It was Richard Nixon, Eisenhower’s VP, that was president when Jerry Blake, the lacrosse player, and Mary Kay Dresner, his next-door neighbor, had a frank discussion in Mary Kay’s house one hot spring, Saturday afternoon. Albert, Mary Kay’s hubby, and Kenneth, their seven-year-old son, were at Kenneth’s spring league soccer game. Mary Kay had just returned home from shopping when she spotted a shorts-wearing, shirtless Jerry, lacrosse stick in hand, shooting balls against a stone wall that divided the two houses. “You look like you could go for a cold drink,” she said.
Jerry bobbled the ball in the net of his lacrosse stick, looked up and said, “Right on.”
In fact, Jerry had been thinking of heading into his own house before Mary Kay’s offer. But why do that when a hot, sexy older woman had just offered him the same thing? Jerry had had his dark brown eyes on Mary Kay Dresner soon after the hormones of early puberty began to roar. He wasn’t normally attracted to strawberry blonds; Mary Kay was one of those rare exceptions. She wasn’t all freckled as some with that pigment tended to be. In fact, she was an older cutie with a face that had a glowing sheen to it and a smile that brought out her fine cheek bones. She looked great in what she wore, a short white and yellow print sun dress and platform shoes. There were women pushing forty that shouldn’t wear dresses that short, but Mary Kay wasn’t one of them. So yeah, he could go for a glass of iced tea or whatever his thoughtful neighbor might serve.
The attraction Jerry developed for Mary Kay went two-ways. She had watched him grow from a cute young teen into a hunk of a young man, athletic and handsome, the kind of guy, regardless of age, that she knew could seduce her in minutes if she let him. She found those dark, penetrating eyes of his and that mane of wavy, dark brown hair, worn parted nearly in the middle and down to his earlobes, irresistibly sexy. His legs, muscular and hairy, his broad shoulders, and well-defined chest and ab muscles, didn’t hurt either. He was the proverbial boy next door, although in Mary Kay’s mind, there was nothing proverbial about him.
Jerry grabbed his T-shirt, slid it over his five-foot-ten-inch frame, and then followed Mary Kay into her house. “Ah, that feels so good,” he said, referring to the cool air blowing through the living room from the big AC window unit.
“I imagine it does,” she said, “as hot as you looked playing outside.”
He nodded, thinking it was Mary Kay who looked hot, and he didn’t mean her temperature. He followed her into the kitchen, took a seat on one of the four wood chairs around her white Linoleum table and watched her bend over to retrieve a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, barely able to control himself from saying what he would say had he been less mannered. Perhaps she knew, he thought, for she was standing in front of him, pitcher in hand, grinning as if she knew what salacious thoughts lurked inside him.
In fact, she did know, or at least had an idea, one reinforced through years of being gawked at and hit on. Albert, eleven years her senior, was one of those who did. She married him shortly after college. She had never been unfaithful and didn’t intend to start now, though she adored the attention and had to admit that she got aroused at the prospect of seducing this young buck sitting in her kitchen. She was in a marriage that had become ho-hum to the point of borrr-ing. She had no immediate plans to leave the marriage, though the idea was never far from her thoughts. Albert provided a good living–he was senior partner in an accounting firm. She loved him, though she couldn’t remember ever being “in love” with him. They still had sex. Not often and only when he wanted to and that was okay with her because he never did much for her in the bedroom anyway. In other words, she was looking for or at least fantasizing about the sort of excitement that she knew could get her into trouble, that could possibly destroy her marriage.
Jerry didn’t know how Mary Kay felt about her marriage. But he did get the sense that she was interested in him on some level, asking him about college, his lacrosse and even his dating status. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend but thought that if Mary Kay wasn’t married, age difference be dammed, he could go for a woman who looked like Mary Kay, with her big, blue eyes, cute smile and adorable hairdo, set with bangs that stretched just above her eyebrows and curled in back just shy of her shoulders. Cute wasn’t a word he normally ascribed to women Mary Kay’s age, except that’s how he saw her, despite the few lines that were beginning to crinkle around her eyes. And that derriere of hers, so curvaceously cute that no guy, including himself, could resist gawking when she swished by.
Her smile brought out those age lines, smiling as she was doing right now, while he talked about himself. “I didn’t know you were that interested in lacrosse,” he said.
“Well, I’m interested in YOU,” she revealed. “I’ve kind of watched you grow up. And here you are in college. Time flies. That really hits home when, like me, you approach middle-age. You’ll see.”
He took her word for it. But reaching middle-age couldn’t have been further from his mind. It all seemed so abstract, so in the future. His focus was on his sexy neighbor, with her legs crossed, her dress riding three-quarters up her tan thighs, her low-cut top exposing lots of cleavage, giving him a welcome that he sensed–or at least hoped–had more to do than just being served a cold drink. Jerry wasn’t naïve when it came to sex–he’d had a couple long-term relationships and a few quick affairs. But they were with single girls around his age, not married women pushing forty. If Mary Kay wanted to engage in something beyond superficial conversation, he wouldn’t, as the cliché went, kick her out of bed.
But would she? Putting a “feeler” out, he said, “Not to get too personal, Mrs. Dresner, but you look great for a woman nearing middle-age. Any age, really.”
She patted his knee. “Thanks, I appreciate that. And, if you don’t feel uncomfortable, call me Mary Kay.”
He nodded. “That’s cool. I’d like that.” He wondered when Albert Dresner and Kenneth would return home. He pictured them coming in and catching himself and her in the bedroom, humping away. Fantasies, fantasies.
She had fantasies of her own. Damn right she did. She wasn’t the type of person who lived by consequences be dammed, the type that threw caution to the wind. Yet, she wasn’t beyond acting on impulse either, and at this moment, she felt that her impulsive side was getting the better of her rational side. She leaned forward in her chair and drew a mischievous look. “Jerry, not to be presumptuous, but I get the sense that we might be on the same wavelength.”
He thought they might be also, but wanted to be sure. “Same wavelength as in…” He wanted her to fill in the blanks.
She chuckled. “I don’t think I need to spell it out. But let me just say that if I was single and around your age, we might be dating by now.” She scooted her chair closer to his. “Look, I’ll be blunt. Without giving too much away, my marriage leaves a lot to be desired. I’ve never cheated on Albert and as far as I know, he’s never cheated on me. I didn’t intend to start by calling you in here. However, now that you’re here…well, honestly, I find it tempting.”
Just the anticipation of getting naked with this sensuous older woman made his cock begin to stir. Being experienced, he knew what to do, but he didn’t feel it was his place to make the first move. That didn’t stop him from putting another feeler out, a literal one this time. When he reached out and began to rub her thigh, she did nothing to stop him. In fact, she encouraged him to go further by lifting her dress higher. The smooth, sensuous feel of her tanned skin, not to mention the black laced panties he could now see, ramped up his excitement.
She knew it, too, and let him know that she was open to taking the next step. In fact, what she did next–hiked her dress around her waist and spread her luscious legs–skipped a few steps. “Albert hated doing oral on me. How about you, Jerry?”
Momentarily stunned by this blatant, unexpected move, he could do little more than stare. To say it took him by surprise was an understatement. However, he soon “recovered” enough to say, “My specialty,” and then proceeded to get on his knees. She shifted the crotch of her panties aside and he went to work, giving her what had driven his former lovers wild.
She soon discovered that his “specialty” was no empty brag. Jerry’s tongue swished across her wet pussy with all deliberate speed. Minutes before, they were having a normal conversation, sipping iced tea. Now, in the improbable confines of her white, freshly painted kitchen, she was almost shrieking with delight, throwing her head back in orgasmic ecstasy. A specialty indeed, for when was the last time any man doing this brought her to climax so soon? There was no last time because no man ever had. Until now, that is.
She leaned forward, put her head down and shook her head. “Whew! Ohmygod, that was wonderful. What do I owe you?”
She was joking, of course, and Jerry knew it. “Your reaction alone,” he said, “was reward enough. Well, almost.”
She wasn’t so high on what he just did for her that she didn’t notice the bulge in the crotch of his shorts. “Let’s see what you’ve got there, baby.” She saw plenty when she pulled down his shorts and then began to stroke it, first with her hand, then with her mouth, careful not to abrade the skin with her teeth. Underestimating the time it would take him to climax, she barely had time to grab a tissue to catch his cum before it dripped onto the floor. “Oh, my, lets get you cleaned up while we still have the time.”
But there was less time than she thought, for in the midst of cleaning up, she heard a car pull into her driveway. “Ohmygod, they’re back!”
It was something out of a bad X-rated comedy, the two of them scrambling, rushing to fix their clothes and disposing the wet tissues in the kitchen trashcan. When Albert and Kenneth walked in, Jerry and Mary Kay were seated at the kitchen table, finishing their iced tea.
“Well, did you win?” Mary Kay asked Kenneth, who’s thick, stocky body type resembled his dad’s.
Answering for him, Albert said, “No, his team lost, five to four.”
Kenneth’s frown began to morph into a grin. “But I did score a goal.”
“You’ll get ’em next time,” Albert said. Then he turned toward Mary Kay’s house guest. “Jerry, you look like you were running around in this heat also. Did you have a lacrosse game today?”
Jerry struggled not to laugh. “No, just a one-man game of stick ball against the walls. Your wife was kind enough to invite me in for some iced tea.” He jiggled the remaining ice cubes in his glass, while trading furtive glances with Mary Kay.
She looked down, pursing her lips, on the verge of laughing also. Then, looking at Albert she said, “Jerry looked so hot out there, dripping with perspiration, I was afraid he might get heat stroke.”
“Well, it wasn’t quite that bad,” Jerry said, forcing himself to keep a straight face.
Albert looked at the two of them in a curious way, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of their comments that sounded slightly strained. Finally, he said, “Well, we’re going upstairs to shower. Nice seeing you, Jerry.”
“Talk about close calls,” Jerry said, close to a whisper even after Kenneth and Albert were out of earshot. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat.
“Yeah, I guess we should stop meeting like this,” Mary Kay said. She paused, hesitant to add something else. Then: “But I hope we won’t stop meeting. If you know what I mean.”
Jerry nodded. “I’m pretty sure I do. But how, I mean how would we–″
“Work out the logistics? I’m not sure but where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She chuckled. “Jeez, I’m just full of clichés today, aren’t I? Look, like I said, I’ve never cheated on Jerry. But after what you just did for me, I’m more open than ever to the possibility. So what do you think of that?”
Jerry shrugged. “It’s wrong, I know, and I wouldn’t want to do something that might get you in trouble. But I also know that I find you irresistibly hot.”
“And I think of you in the same way, Jerry Blake.” She took his hand, then leaned across the table. “Now let’s kiss on it.”
They did, and kissed even more when he stood by the door to leave. It was a goodbye hug, dry hump and smooch that they both knew wasn’t a goodbye at all but the beginning of something naughty but damn near irresistible.
*****
Mary Kay had the will; she just wasn’t sure of the way. The trick was to meet Jerry somewhere, then return home without arousing suspicion. They both worked, Albert at his accounting firm, and Mary Kay as a supervisor for the township court system. Sundays were reserved for family time–no chance then. Which left Saturday as the best option. She and Albert usually went out on Saturday night. But she was usually free during the day. Yeah, she could see it. She’d have her fun with Jerry and then, hours later, she and Albert might go to dinner, take in a movie or both. Or, they might join friends at some house party. What a preposterous, fantastical proposition–and a potentially messy one at that. She knew two women that carried on under their husband’s noses. One broke it off and stayed married. The other got divorced.
May Kay wasn’t sure she could do it. But maybe she could if it was a one-night stand, a fling. Albert was the only man she’d ever been to bed with. After a few years of marriage, she had wondered what it would feel like to get intimate with another man. A man around her age might want something more, something ongoing. Jerry’s age precluded anything long-term. It would be brief. And, if his oral skills were any indication, the rest of it would send her into a blissful orbit. But what if it was so blissful, so wonderful that she wanted more, something ongoing? And what if Jerry did?
She was torturing herself with indecision. She didn’t have to do this. She could chalk it up to some ridiculous fantasy, then drop the idea and continue on with her life as it was. Business as usual. The business of being a working mom and a faithful wife, albeit one that felt desperate for something she wasn’t supposed to have. Desperate. Yes, she felt desperate, especially after getting a taste, no pun intended, of what her handsome, young neighbor appeared all too willing to provide.
*****
This was cool. Super cool even. Prior to the recent kitchen episode, Mary Kay had been the subject of locker room talk between Jerry and his buddies. Now, unbelievably, he and Mary Kay were going to get it on. ‘Keep this tightly under wraps,’ Mary Kay had told him. Temping as it was to tell, he intended to keep it under wraps. Personally, Jerry didn’t care if his friends knew. He wasn’t a habitual braggart. However, once in a while he’d mention some girl he’d been with and his friends, particularly the bullshitters among them, would draw envious looks, much to Jerry’s smug delight. But this was different. There would be no more locker room talk coming from him. Mary Kay was a neighbor–and a married one at that. He didn’t want to get her in trouble or do something that might destroy her marriage. And, if his parents found out…well, that was a potential explosion. Jerry always felt that his dad, Stone Blake, might consider doing the same thing if given the opportunity. Stone never said as much, at least to Jerry. But Jerry saw his dad checking out Mary Kay when she came outside, especially when she sun-bathed in her backyard. Betty, his mom, had seen both Stone and Jerry turning their lustful gazes toward Mary Kay. Jerry would laugh to himself, watching Betty watching her husband and her son watching that sexy neighbor of theirs. Other than embarrassed, comical looks between them, nothing was said.
*****
Temptation had gotten the better of her, and Mary Kay knew it. The faithful wife would soon be faithful no more. She was behind the wheel of her maroon, ’71 Chrysler New Yorker, headed toward Bankcroff’s, a classy suburban eatery, just a few miles down the road from the McComas Inn. The plan: to treat Jerry to lunch, then follow him to the McComas for some afternoon delight.
She felt nervous as well as excited; happy as well as, well, not so happy. She wanted to do this and she didn’t. With apologies to Dickens, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…” Except there was nothing wise about what she was about to do. Foolish, yes. Wise, no. Yet she needed to do this. At least that’s the way she rationalized it. She had needs, she had wants, she had temptations, and Jerry was one huge temptation she couldn’t pass up. More accurate, she chose not to pass up.
She pulled into the parking lot and there he was, looking so cool and sexy, sunglasses atop his head, arms folded, leaning against the door of his orange, ’69 GTO, a gift from his parents. He wore khaki shorts, a blue and white stripped short-sleeve sport shirt and brown loafers sans socks.
She smiled, watching him gawk when she alighted from her car, his eyes trained on her bare legs, exposed in a colorful dress when her movement hiked the hem halfway up her slender thighs. “Been waiting long?”
He unfolded his arms and said, “Just a few minutes.” He reached out and took both her hands in his. “It’s great seeing you. I Just hope there’s nobody in there that knows us.”
She nodded. “That WOULD be awkward. But I’m confident there won’t be. If not, I wouldn’t have come here.”
Bankcroff’s was known for its dim lighting as well as fine food. A good thing, Mary Kay thought. When indulging in hanky-panky, you wanted to do it in the shadows, so to speak. Much of the light came from candles encased in red globes atop tables covered in white linen. It was the perfect place for a romantic lunch or dinner. Of course, romance is usually between two people that have known each other awhile, not between an older woman and her college-age, would-be lover. Still, in the glow of candlelight, she couldn’t help but feel romantic, being with this great looking kid. As he perused the menu, she stole admiring glances of his chiseled features, his strong jawline and beautiful smile, and his thick head of hair.
“This is nice, really nice,” he said, after the server took their menus. “Expensive too. Let me at least pay the tip.”
She waved it away. “No, it’s all on me. You’re still in college. And anyway, I want to do this. I like you.”
“I just hope you’ll like me even more after we get to the motel.”
“I have no doubt, Jerry.” She didn’t. She had second thoughts but they had noting to do with how Jerry would perform but on the immorality of it all. She was about to become an adulterer. Try as she might, she couldn’t get comfortable with that idea. Even if this turned out to be a one-time thing, it was still wrong. She rubbed the back of her neck, then began to fidget with the silverware.
Jerry noticed. “Mary Kay, are you all right? You look kind of…anxious.”
She placed the utensils back and forced a smile. “I’m okay, just a little nervous, I guess. I mean, I’ve never done this before, slept with a man outside my marriage. In fact, Albert is the only man I’ve ever slept with. Does that surprise you?”
He shrugged. “No, not really. But don’t tell me that other guys didn’t try.”
She nodded, thinking back to a couple of past boyfriends, the ones she stopped from going past third base. “Yeah, they did. Guess I was saving myself.”
“For me?” He grinned.
She couldn’t help but laugh–it eased the angst of her moral dilemma. “Maybe so, Jerry, maybe so.”
*****
After consuming a soup and sandwich lunch, Mary Kay had Jerry follow her to the McComas Inn. Her excitement tempered some of the moral ambiguity that still lingered, hovering over her like a bad odor. ‘It stinks what you’re about to do, Mary Kay,’ her inner voice said. It helped that Jerry had held and kissed her on the parking lot. “I like you too,” he had said. Funny, she was a couple decades older, yet she felt safe in his arms, as if he was protecting her from something–probably from a husband who wouldn’t take kindly to what she was doing if he ever found out.
She had called the McComas Inn the day before and was assured that they had plenty of vacancies. The inn was built in the nineteen-fifties, and calling it an inn was somewhat pretentious. In fact, it was a motel, designed in rows of single-story buildings. For the last couple decades, it had earned a salacious reputation as a place where married people took their lovers for trysts. No questions asked. You paid your money and the room was yours, to do in it what and with whom you pleased.
An older couple, man and wife, ran it. They kept a straight face as Mary Kay handed them cash over the counter, with Jerry by her side. No questions asked because none needed to be. The woman slipped Mary Kay the key for room 22. Something about that number felt chilling to her as they walked toward the room. What was it? It wasn’t until they went inside that she remembered that Twenty-Two was the name of a Twilight Zone episode seen years ago. The main character was a female dancer, confined to a hospital for much of the episode, who confronts a night nurse who apparently wanted her dead.
Mary Kay placed her purse on the queen-sized bed and said, “Room for one more, honey.”
Jerry raised his eyebrows and grinned. “You want to have a three-way?”
“Sure. You, me and maybe the manager’s wife,” Mary Kay said, knowing her sarcasm wasn’t lost on Jerry. Then she explained where the line came from. “Imagine yourself in a hospital, wandering around the halls until you come to the morgue, room twenty-two. And then the night nurse comes out and says, ‘room for one more, honey.’ It might have been the scariest Twilight Zone episode I ever saw.”
“Hmm…I used to watch that show,” Jerry said, “but don’t remember that one. I was just a kid. Maybe I’ll catch it on reruns. So what happened to the woman, the hospital patient?”
“So, after her release, she’s about to board a plane on flight twenty-two, when a stewardess, the same woman who played the night nurse at the morgue, looks at her and says, ‘room for one more, honey.’ The dancer then runs back inside the terminal. Then, shortly after the plane takes off, it explodes in a ball of fire.” Mary Kay shook from a sudden chill that ran down her spine. Then she said, “Well, enough of that.” She stepped forward and began to rub Jerry’s shoulders. “We have a date.”
Standing in front of the small black and white TV that sat atop a three-drawer dresser, they began to kiss. That Twilight Zone episode quickly faded from Mary Kay’s thoughts. Her focus was now on Jerry and what he was doing for her, the tender way he was kissing her and the erotic way he was rubbing his body against hers–showing rather than telling her what in turn she was doing for him.
“You smell so nice, Mary Kay,” he said, after their clothes came off and he was stooping slightly so he could do oral on her still firm tummy and then up to her firm, smallish breasts.
Jerry’s scent was to her liking also–it reminded her of oranges. She could hardly wait to get more of it, to get more of HIM. “Ohmygod, Jerry, I’m exploding with desire. Let’s get into bed already.” Pause. “You can put those back,” she said, after he took out a packet of condoms from his pants pocket. “I’m on the pill.”
She had passed the point of no return. In fact, she had passed it the second that cash changed hands for the room. Return was now in her rearview and fading fast. Her naked body was now entwined with his, with the kissing getting longer and deeper and her emotions soaring to a place where they hadn’t been in many a day. This young man that she had known since he was a young boy, was giving her the sort of pleasure that for so long had been missing from her life, and she was savoring every moment of it–from the erotic sensation of his tongue on her erogenous zones, to the feel of his cock, throbbing and stabbing inside her. He was hitting all the right spots in all the right ways. “Ohmygod, yes yes! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
A ridiculous plead to Jerry’s ears, for he had no intention of stopping, at least not before she climaxed. Experience had taught him that chicks took longer to climax than guys. He had learned to pace himself, to hold out for as long as it took for his lover to come before he did. It wasn’t always easy, especially when he was making love to an uber-sensuous woman, a woman like the one right here, on her back, spreading her shapely legs, reveling in what he was giving and pleading for more.
She got more, for once was not enough for this married woman whose sex life with hubby Albert was mediocre at best. Left up to her, she’d let Jerry fuck her all night. But she didn’t have all night or even all afternoon. She and Albert had a dinner date with another couple. She had to be home by four at the latest, enough time to “squeeze” in another round of incredible sex with this young stud. She marveled at his powers of recovery, the fact that he could be ready to go again so quickly. She took top, on her feet, bouncing up and down, her eyes closed, her breasts flapping, her voice expressing her pleasure loud enough for anyone in the rooms next door to know what was going on.
Then…quiet. At least relative quiet. No one next door could hear the talk that followed, soft and endearing, as they kissed and snuggled under the sheets, lying on their sides, arms dapped over each other.
“You’ve spoiled me for other women,” he said.
“And you make me want to leave my marriage,” she said.
“You’d do that?”
“Probably not. But I couldn’t stand not seeing you again. Like this, I mean.” Lovingly, she brushed beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Yeah, I couldn’t stand not seeing you either, Mary Kay. But how would this work? I mean, you being married and all.”
“I’m not sure. Obviously, we want to keep things hush hush. Think you can keep it under wraps, not go bragging to your friends? I know how guys like to brag about their conquests. Or your parents. Ohmygod…” Her grin belied the seriousness of her concern. She knew all too well the consequences if even one person they knew found out.
“Wouldn’t tell a soul. Not even my dog. Anyway, most guys who brag are bullshitters.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Meanwhile, we better get going. I have a dinner date with my husband.” She let out a bitter, guttural laugh. “Jesus, how darkly comical does that sound given this situation?” She swung her legs over and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. “And here I once thought this was only going to be a one-time thing.”
*****
One was too many and a hundred not enough. That’s what they said about alcoholics and their drinks. The same could be applied to sex. Sex with the right lover was tough to give up. For Mary Kay, Jerry was the right lover. All wrong in a moral sense; right in how they meshed in the bedroom.
They had a month of Saturdays behind them. And, if Mary Kay had her way, another month of Saturdays in front of them. Jerry was more than okay with that. He was riding the crest of a wave that kept on rolling, with no foreseeable end in sight. So far, he had kept his end of the bargain to keep his mouth shut. Not that he wasn’t tempted to trumpet this wonderful experience that had come his way. In fact, there were moments when it almost slipped out. His mom began to ask what he was doing on Saturday afternoons. “Just having fun, hanging out with friends,” he replied.
Albert was beginning to question also. Once he commented on that “sexy kind of scent” he had picked up on one Saturday when she hadn’t showered before returning home. She laughed it off, told him it was “nothing more than what I usually smell like.” He wasn’t fully appeased and she knew it. Maybe it was time to end things with Jerry before she got in deeper, before she slipped up and got caught. Oh, how the shit would fly. But oh, how she would miss those Saturday afternoons at the McComas Inn.
*****
She should have varied the venues where they met for their trysts. Also, it would have helped to carry on at home like nothing was going on. As to the latter, she tried, made close to a convincing display of “normalcy.” However, what she failed to realize and what Albert noticed were subtle changes in her mood, especially when she returned home late Saturday afternoons. She was just a little too happy after shopping or “hanging out with the girls,” as she told him. And there was that day when he had smelled the scent of sex, unmistakable because he damn sure knew what it smelled like. And on that one particular Saturday, Mary Kay had reeked of it. Shopping or being with her friends didn’t produce that kind of scent, not unless she and the girls had a group lesbian thing going on.
He thought confronting her would be a waste of time. She’d only deny it and it would cause more tension in the marriage than he was prepared to deal with. He wasn’t a confrontational type person. In fact, he avoided confrontations about things that some would insist needed one. He was a slightly overweight, self-admitted rationalizer who didn’t like to make waves. That didn’t make him a wimp, only a guy who wanted to keep the peace and the status quo, if the status quo was to his liking. In general, it had been. Besides, Mary Kay could be totally innocent of any wrongdoing. They still had sex. Not like they once did, but who screwed like they once did after x number of years of marriage? And yeah, he was always the initiator. Sometimes, he had to practically beg her to do it. Still, he loved his wife. He trusted her because, barring recent events, she had never given him reason not to.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt…
It wouldn’t hurt to ask his friend Lester Shane for a little help. Lester was a seasoned police detective who did private eye work on the side. They’d known each other a long time, had done each other favors over the years. Maybe Lester could do some snooping around to assuage Albert’s suspicions.
Sure, Lester said, when Albert called him. It would be a simple matter of following Mary Kay one Saturday when he wasn’t busy. He’d follow in his car, keeping a discreet distance. If required, he’ take pictures, the best evidence there was. This kind of work was old hat to him, though it was usually the husband he spied on.
A couple weeks later, Lester ducked into a phone booth and called Albert.
“I can talk, Mary Kay isn’t home,” Albert said.
“I know that, Al. She’s with some kid. Looks to be college-age. They had lunch at some fancy joint, then met at the McComas Inn. Room twenty-two to be exact. Figures. Anyway, I don’t think they’re here because they have side jobs cleaning the place. I’m across the street and they’re cars haven’t moved. I’m sure the pics I took will turn out just fine. Sorry, pal, it looks like your wife’s been enjoying some extracurricular fun. Good luck.”
“Kid?! What kid? Holy shit!” Albert couldn’t believe it. More accurate, he didn’t want to. She’s having an affair with a kid? He wracked his brain. And then it hit him: Jerry Blake. He’s the only college-age kid that came to mind. His next-door neighbor yet. How convenient. A few weeks ago, they were chatting in his kitchen. Thinking back, they did seem kind of chummy. Albert didn’t think much of it. Not at the time. Now, with what he just heard, it all seemed to fit.
He paced the floor, feeling like a time bomb ready to explode. “Wait until the bitch gets home,” he grunted. Except he couldn’t wait. His angst, his anger, his sense of outrage wouldn’t let him. Wait? No fucking way! He threw on a pair of gym shoes, light khaki slacks and a short-sleeve sports shirt. He was outta there, making a beeline for room twenty-two of the McComas Inn. Good thing that Kenneth was at a friend’s house for a sleepover. Albert wouldn’t want his son to see him in a rage.
*****
Mary Kay’s mind wasn’t on snooping private eyes. At this moment, she was in the strong, tender embrace of her lover, a one Jerry Blake. Jerry was wedged between her legs, tonguing her breasts, while his cock, at maximum verticality, slid effortlessly inside his lover, the “primo-sexy and adorable Mary Kay,” as he took to describing her. They were on round number two, and she couldn’t get enough. “Ohmygod, if only I could be with you more!” she cried out loud. Even in her present heightened state of passion, she could think clearly enough to admit that she was falling in love with this man, this man who was barely out of his teens. Nothing was right about this and yet, on some level, everything was right about it.
Little did she know, because her lover hadn’t said, that he was falling for her as well. It had been all about the sex, and then it wasn’t, because something else was happening, something deeper, substantive, consequential. Sure, she had a beautiful body. More than that, she was so damn sensuous, erotic, seductive. But also, so–what was the word? –covetous. He coveted her, he cared about her and he wanted to be with her in other places, not just in restaurants and motels that catered to people who did what they were doing. “If only I could hold you all night, Mary Kay.”
If only. Yes, she’d love that, would love being with Jerry for more than just a few hours at a time. Would love to travel with him to some warm, romantic getaway, just the two of them. Those thoughts reeled through her mind, almost as vivid as the reality of the moment, of being made love to by this amazing young man with an unusually keen sense of pace and timing. “My goodness, Jerry, you’re driving me out of my mind!”
*****
Speaking of timing, Albert at that moment was driving his 1970 red Chevy Caprice onto the McComas Inn parking lot and hoping that what Lester had reported seeing was just an illusion. Fat chance, because there they were, Jerry’s orange GTO and Mary Kay’s maroon Chrysler New Yorker parked side by side, just outside room twenty-two. The man who hated confrontations was about to confront the wife he once trusted and the lacrosse-playing kid next-door.
He cut the engine, then sat there, staring at the white door with the number 22 on it, trying to picture what was going on behind that door. They weren’t playing Parcheesi, he was sure of that. Nor did he think they were fully clothed, engaged in a political discussion about the Nixon presidency. He shook his head. Holy shit, what a mess, what a fucking mess. What possessed her to take up with the kid next-door? Was their sex life that bad? Was she that horny? He’d strangle her; he’d strangle them both. Good thing he didn’t own a gun. Damn it, forcing him to confront something like this alone made his blood boil.
“Okay, here goes.” He exited the car, stepped up to the door and knocked. He put his ear to the door, heard nothing. He knocked harder.
“Yes?”
It was Mary Kay, all right. “It’s me, your loving husband. Open up.”
“Ohmygod! Oh shit! Jerry, get dressed!”
He heard that loud and clear. Other sounds too–footsteps, things being tossed about and snatches of conversation he couldn’t quite make out. Then he heard this from Mary Kay: “Look, Albert, can we discuss this at home? I know how angry and upset you must be but this isn’t the place for a confrontation. Go home and I’ll meet you there.”
No fucking way she was calling the shots. “Oh, we’re gonna discuss it at home, all right. But right now, we’re gonna have a little discussion right here, with your boyfriend all present and accounted for. Now open up.”
“Do I have to call the desk?”
“Call the damn desk if you want to, but I’m not going anywhere. Don’t make this any messier than it already is, Mary Kay.”
Moments later, she cracked the door open and stood there, barefoot but otherwise fully dressed, her pretty features distorted by a mix of angst and shame. “Albert, please don’t get physical.”
He spit out a bitter chuckle. “When have I ever gotten violent with you? Many men would in this situation and understandably so. But I’m here to talk. Okay?”
She nodded. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she let him in.
The bed wasn’t made. That’s the first thing he noticed. The second was the sight of Jerry Blake, standing across the dimly lit room, arms folded defensively across his chest, wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Jerry stood a couple inches taller than Albert and was in much better shape. Weekend golf didn’t do much for that paunch he carried, and neither did two-martini lunches. Still, he was angry enough to get “physical,” as Mary Kay put it. Angry enough to take a swing at this admittedly nice-looking lad who’d been fucking his wife for God knows how long.
Albert stood near the front door, while Mary Kay stood on the far side of the bed, arms folded like Jerry’s, watching him like a hawk. She’d never felt so tense in her entire life.
“So how long has this been going on?” Albert’s brown eyes darted back and forth, looking for at least one of them to answer.
Jerry unfolded his arms and took a step forward. “Look, Mr. Dresner, this is all my fault. I came onto her, not the other way around.”
Mary Kay looked at him and shook her head. Then her tears began to flow. “Not true, Albert. It WAS the other way around. I was Mrs. Robinson to his Benjamin.”
“How sweet, protecting each other,” Albert said. “Look, I don’t give a flying fuck who started it. What I want to know is how long it’s been going on.”
Mary Kay, pawing tears from her reddened cheeks, said, “A few weeks, Albert, a few weeks. I don’t know exactly. How did you know we were here? Did you follow me here today?”
“Never mind, I’ve got my ways.” He looked at Jerry. “So, Mr. Gigolo, how’s my wife in the sack? Pretty good, eh?”
“Room for one more, honey.”
Covering her mouth, Mary Kay glanced back at Jerry, stifling the urge to laugh at this most irreverent comment.
Looking at Mary Kay, hands held palms up, Jerry said, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Albert got even more incensed. “EXCUSE ME? Just what the fuck do you mean by that?!”
Jerry looked down, trying to erase his shit-eating grin. “Nothing, sir, nothing. Sorry. Just an inside joke.”
Albert stroked his two-day-old stubble and nodded. “Inside joke, huh. You ought to be smacked, smart-ass, if not beaten with sticks. Your folks are gonna love what you’ve been doing.” He slammed his fist into the palm of his meaty hand but stayed put. Then he said, “Now answer my question. How was she, this loyal wife of mine? Did you fuck her brains out?”
Jerry shrugged. “Sorry, like I said.”
Albert looked at him for a few moments, as if he was expecting Jerry to say more. When he didn’t, Albert said, “That’s okay, I wouldn’t want to talk about screwing some other man’s wife either. Especially when her pissed off husband is facing him in the very room where it happened.”
Feeling light headed, Mary Kay eased herself down on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands. She felt she was either on the verge of passing out or screaming; she wasn’t quite sure which. Instead, she managed to pull herself together. Sheepishly, she looked up at her cuckold husband. “Okay, Albert, we’ve had our talk. Now would you kindly leave? Like I said, I’ll meet you at home. We can talk more there.”
*****
Mary Kay returned home. She and Albert talked, talk that got heated but still stayed civil, more or less. Both agreed that their marriage was beyond repair.
Mary Kay moved out and got an apartment. Lawyers drew up a separation agreement. By that time, the Oakshire gossip mill was in full swing, abuzz with tales both real and embellished. Jerry’s parents demanded that he cut all ties to Mary Kay. “You’ve embarrassed us as well as yourself,” they said. “You should both feel ashamed.”
Jerry didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. Mary Kay, on the other hand, did. At least for a while. Boys will be boys but wives should be loyal. Or so the prevailing thinking went among those who believed in double standards. But Mary Kay was now a single woman and the neo-feminist movement was gaining momentum. Her thinking began to change. But even before that, shamed or not, she couldn’t stop seeing Jerry. And Jerry, his parents’ “black list” of their former neighbor notwithstanding, couldn’t stop seeing Mary Kay.
A year later, it didn’t matter anyway. Jerry was out of college, had his own place and was working. Not only did he get to hold her all night, per his wish, but they traveled, as Mary Kay had wanted, to warm, romantic places. Bermuda. Aruba. Mexico. They were in love. They talked of marriage. The romance had Oakshire wagging their collective tongues. Grudgingly, Jerry’s parents accepted it. They didn’t have much choice. However, they’d be dammed if they were going to throw in money for a wedding.
They need not have worried. There would be no wedding. Mary Kay was the strong one. She realized that being with her was not the sort of future that was best for Jerry. “You need to find a girl around your age,” she said. “More kids are not in my future, but you might want them someday.”
He knew she was right. Still, he took it hard. In time, though, he began dating again, found a girl, fell in love and got married. Mary Kay found a special someone as well and married for the second time. They lost touch.
The years past. Over forty of them. Jerry was in his sixties. Still married, he was a father with a grown son and daughter. Upon retirement, he took a part-time job co-managing a health club. Jerry had lost some hair but he was still in tiptop shape for a man in late middle-age, just slightly heavier than he was in college. In addition to training in the health club, he played in a lacrosse league for seniors.
One cold day between Christmas and New Year’s, a man in his late forties walked in to join. His name was Kenneth Dresner. When Jerry went to sign him up, he couldn’t resist asking if he was related to Albert and Mary Kay Dresner. “My parents,” he said. “Dad died a few years ago but my mom’s still living. Her last name is now Eickhoff. She’s a widow. You knew them?”
“Former neighbors of mine,” Jerry said. They were sitting at a desk in Jerry’s small office. Apparently, Kenneth was too young to remember what Jerry looked like.
But the name Jerry Blake sounded familiar. “Are you the Jerry Blake who lived next-door?”
“That’s me,” Jerry revealed. He thought that Kenneth might give him the smack that his dad had wanted to all those years ago. Or, maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know what role Jerry played in his parents’ breakup. In body type, Kenneth resembled his dad, stocky, slightly overweight and at least a couple inches taller. His hair was light brown, not black like his dad’s, and he sported a bushy mustache.
Jerry couldn’t resist probing into how much Kenneth might know. “So how much do you remember about me?”
Kenneth looked up from the rules page. “Not too much. But I do recall you hitting lacrosse balls against the wall that divided our properties. Years later, after my parents divorced and I was old enough to understand, my dad told me that the rumors I’d been hearing for years were true. That you and my mom ran off together. The experience left him bitter for years. I don’t think he ever fully got over it. Mom wouldn’t really discuss it. She was vague at best. All I knew early on was that she no longer lived with us, but the reason eluded me.” He paused, looked down at the papers he held, then looked up. “Did you and my mom really run off together?”
Jerry stepped lightly, tried to be as diplomatic as he could. “If by running off you mean shaking up, no, we didn’t. We were involved romantically, though both of us knew, because of the age difference, long-term it couldn’t work. I’m glad to hear that she remarried. How is she doing otherwise?”
“She’s in her eighties, lives alone and still drives. She’s had problems with arrythmia but her mind is as sharp as a tac. When I visit, we sometimes watch Jeopardy and most times she knows more of the answers. I’ll give her your phone number if you’d like.”
“She’d want to hear from me?!”
“She might. Like I said, she was vague about what went on between you two. But I could read between the lines, just from her tone of voice. She obviously liked you enough to step outside her marriage, to take up with a guy twenty years younger.”
As Kenneth was signing the contract, Jerry asked, “You don’t think of me as a home wrecker? I mean, I was half the reason your parents split.”
“That was years ago and besides, my parents’ marriage wasn’t all that great. They argued a lot. Things could get pretty heated between them. Mom even slapped my dad once. I couldn’t have been more than five, but I remember it. A woman happy in her marriage wouldn’t take up with another man, let alone one a generation younger. From what little mom said, I got the impression that you filled some sort of void in her life. Besides, she found happiness in her second marriage. So don’t worry, I’m not going to punch you in the nose.” He drew a warm, reassuring smile, then handed over the papers.
After standing up, they shook hands. Then Jerry said, “Give your mom my best.”
“Absolutely. Meanwhile, I’ll give her your number. She’ll be thrilled. Martin, her second husband is gone and so are many of her friends. My wife and two boys come to visit, but I get the impression she still feels lonely.”
*****
Kenneth Dresner had been right. Days later, Mary Kay gave Jerry a call on his home’s landline. His wife Karen answered the phone. “It’s for you,” she said. “Sounds like an elderly lady.”
“Like us, you mean.”
“Very funny. No, she sounds a lot older than us, dear.”
Karen left the room, leaving Jerry alone in the kitchen. “I’m so glad you called, Mary Kay. How are you?”
“Doing okay for an old woman. Kenneth filled me in on your conversation. So what’s been going on with you?”
Jerry told her about his marriage and kids, his life in retirement, etc. “But even after all these years,” he added, “I haven’t forgotten the great times we shared.”
“Neither have I, Jerry. As you know, things got very messy after Albert found out, and it took me a while to shake off the ugly feedback I got from some folks. But after that, I never regretted being with you. Like you said, we had some great times. Look, if you ever get a chance, as Mae West once said, come up and see me sometime. I won’t try to steal you away from your wife, I promise. In fact, you can bring her over if you’d like.”
Jerry took down her address. After hanging up, he let Karen in on the conversation. When he and Karen were dating, Jerry had told her all about the affair. “She invited me over, you included,” he revealed. “She joked that she wouldn’t try to lure me away from you.”
Karen laughed along. Then she said, “I’ll pass on the invite. But if you’d like to see her, it’s okay with me. Just keep your pants zippered.”
“I will. Promise.”
Jerry called her back and arranged a visit. A few days after that, Mary Kay buzzed him into the lobby of the seniors-only, twelve-story high-rise apartment building that had been her home for the last few years. He took the elevator to the sixth floor, then stepped down the carpeted hall and rang the bell. Moments later, Mary Kay opened the door. “Room for one more, honey.”
Jerry doubled over in a guffaw.
“I thought you might like that one,” she said, after he stepped inside.
“I absolutely did. It would have been funnier if your apartment was number twenty-two.”
She laughed. “My Lord, I’d think that Albert had come back to haunt me.”
He looked her over. Not bad for an octogenarian. She wore her gray-white hair close to the way she did years ago. Yes, she had wrinkles and yes, she had shrunk a little, but she looked sturdy enough in the slacks and pull-over blouse she wore. She was well-preserved enough that he probably would have recognized her on the street.
He accepted her offer of wine, then took a seat on the beige sofa of her well-furnished living room, carpeted in white. Colorful abstract paintings and family photographs hung on the walls. A small Christmas tree stood in a corner.
“You look great, Jerry,” she said, sitting down beside him. “Not as much hair but you still look in great shape. Still playing lacrosse?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m in a senior league. Playing with pulled aging muscles and all.”
“Oh, tell me about aging. I won’t lie, it’s no fun getting into your eighties. But, there’s always the alternative, as they say.” She sipped some Merlot. “So tell me about your wife.”
“Karen’s great. Very tolerant. She’d have to be to put up with me. And she’s got a wonderful sense of humor. Told me she didn’t mind me coming over here so long as my pants stayed zippered.”
Mary Kay’s laugh almost made her tip over the wine glass she held. “Jerry, even if your pants didn’t stay zippered, I couldn’t swing with you. The lake has long run dry. Can you still, well, that is–”
“Get it up? Yep, and no Viagra needed, I’m both proud and grateful to say.”
She slapped him on the leg. “Well, good for you, young man. If you’re as fine a lover as I remember, I envy your wife.” She took another sip. “Oh, my, those were the days, weren’t they? We were a pair. Life is full of interludes, and for me, being with you, Jerry Blake, was interlude supreme.”
He nodded while taking a swallow. “We sure were a pair, Mary Kay. Our bedroom marathons and those incredible trips we took. Interlude supreme…an appropriate way to put it.” He looked into her eyes, still as blue as the sea on a sunny day. “I fell in love with you. I didn’t expect that.”
She let out a strong breath, then blinked back the tears she felt coming on. “Nor did I, kid. It snuck up on me, waylaid me, you might say. The seductress became the seduced. How’s the song go? ‘I fell into a burning ring of fire…went down, down, down and the flames went higher.'”
“And we both got burned. But I never regretted it. Still don’t.”
She set her glass down on the coffee table and reached out to him. “Me neither.”
He hugged her, then gave her a kiss on her lips, shriveled with age, but he didn’t mind. In a way, on some distant level, he still loved her.
When they parted, she said, “If only I could turn back the clock. We all say that, I know, but at this moment it’s more than just a cliché.” For a few seconds, the years melted away, and in her still sharp memory and imagination, she saw Jerry and herself as they were during their brief time together.
Her tears flowed freely now, and Jerry pulled her to him in a comforting hug. “Turning back the clock is something I think about also. But what can we do?”
“Nothing,” she said, sniffling. “Just live life as best we can until the end. I’ve tried to do that. Admittedly, I’ve made some stumbles along the way like everyone else. But, overall, I’ll have to say that my life’s been good. I’ve been fortunate. I’ve got my son, a lovely daughter-in-law and two handsome grandsons. People my age have to believe, overall, that they’ve had a meaningful, fulfilling life in order to feel a sense of peace before they go.”
They chatted a while longer, which included exchanging email and phone numbers. Then, before Jerry walked out the door, Mary Kay said, “I’m so glad you came over, Jerry. Let’s keep in touch. Okay?”
“For sure, Mary Kay. Take care.”
*****
Jerry really did want to stay in touch. Should old acquaintance be forgot? In his book, not necessarily. Karen had no problem with it. In fact, she had remained in touch with an old boyfriend, now married. “Besides,” she said, “I doubt that most women would feel threatened by their husband’s old girlfriend, if that OLD girlfriend was in her eighties.”
But he never got the chance. Days later, Kenneth called to inform him that his mom had passed away. “When she didn’t answer her phone,” he said, “I went over there and found her in bed. The coroner figured a heart attack. Makes sense. She had that arrhythmia going on. I declined an autopsy.”
Jerry shook his head. Yes, she was old, but it still came as a complete shock. After all, he had just been with her. “I’m so sorry, Kenneth. I was looking forward to seeing her again.”
“She was looking forward to seeing you again as well. She told me how much she enjoyed your visit. She said you talked about old times as well as recent life events.”
“Right, we did. She also told me, in so many words, that she had no regrets. She said she felt fortunate, that she had a sense of peace in her old age. I hope that gives you some comfort and consolation.”
Jerry’s only regret was that he hadn’t brought over the photographs he had stored in an old shoebox. He had planned to do it next time. Of course, there wouldn’t be a next time to share all those Kodak moments. After Kenneth’s call, he got them out. There were lots of beach photos–Mary Kay, looking super-hot in her bikini and the two of them shot by strangers, holding hands. His eyes moistened. Yep, those were the days. They were indeed a pair, he and Mary Kay, carrying on despite what others thought. It was a relatively brief time and place in his life. But what a time and what a place.