Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Trim Lines

“You’ve changed,” Denise said.
“Me? I don’t think so. How?” I said.
“Um, well, that was… kinda nasty,” she said in reference to our just completed sexual act.
I shrugged.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t fun. But... you’ve changed. You’re a lot more, uh… aggressive.”
“OK. Maybe,” I said.
“I guess you learned a lot from all those college girls.”

Silence.

“I’ll bet you had lots of girlfriends at school, Wil.”
“One or two,” I said.
She laughed. “One or two a year, a month, a week?”
“Denise, what are you doin'?”
“I dunno. Guess I’m just curious.”


Silence.


“Did you have fun at school?”
“I had more fun during the summers, actually,” I said, “If by ‘fun’ you mean ‘getting laid'.
“Yeah? Local girls? Anyone I know?”
“Not from this town, but nearby.”
This conversation, such as it was, went on for a while with Denise trying to find out how many girls I’d fucked since we split up and me having no interest in talking about it. The only fucking I was thinking about was our next session and I figured we were getting pretty damn close to another sweaty round.


Then the phone rang. It was a Trimline phone on the stand next to the bed. My parents had a black desk phone in the house and thought a second line, with a fancy Trimline handset no less, was what people did if they had little regard for frugality.
I watched Denise with great admiration as she stretched to grab the phone.
“Hullo. No, I’m fine, I feel a lot better. Where are you?”
It must be Andi calling from the bar, I thought.
“No, he’s still here. Yeah. Yeah. Mmmm-hmmm. OK, bye.”
“Andi?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “She was checking from uptown to see if I was feeling better.”
“I figured that much. What was all the yeahin’ and mmm-hmmmin’ about? Is she coming over or something?”
“Oh, she figured out I wasn’t really sick and that we were in bed together. She says, ‘Hi’.”
“Hi back to her. I owe her since she was the one who let you know I was in town. So, is she coming over or not?”
“No, she’s not coming over! You really have changed. You want a three-way with me and Andi, don't ya Wil?”
“Nope. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t coming over. I don't need her ringing the doorbell while we're busy fucking.”
I got up and stood by the bed. I grabbed the ankles of her boots and pulled her across the bed until her ass was at the edge. I pulled her legs straight up, then put my hands on her thighs, pressed them towards her shoulders and spread them apart. She reached between her legs, found my hardening cock and guided it into her. Hearing her talk about her and Andi together had inspired me. With nobody around Denise was very loud. Every time I pounded my cock into her pussy she yelped, gasped, or yelled out. She had changed in the past four and a half years too. I had the feeling that some of Andi's sluttiness was finally rubbing off on my old girlfriend. She was now a hot little married fuck. Who knew my first time with a married woman wouldn't be on my honeymoon?


We got together quite a few more times over the next few days-- right up until the afternoon before I was driving out West in the used van I had traded my little two-seater for-- and always in the bigger bed in her parents' room. That last afternoon she decided I needed a memorable send-off and she broke out her black boots again-- this time with a gray mini-skirt and a black rib-knit sweater. No bra. No panties. We fucked all afternoon. To think this very naughty slut thought I was nasty. Unfortunately we couldn't keep going since I had to get to my parents in time for the last supper.
The next morning was pretty emotional as I headed off into the great unknown. Mom got teary-eyed. It was one thing for me to go off to college but something else for me to drive off for my first grownup job a thousand miles away in a little town we'd never even seen. Dad shook my hand, gave me a pat on the back and a “Good luck, son.” Then he said those three little words every boy wants to hear from his dad at such a time, “Got toll money?”


---------------

After I got settled out West I wrote a promised letter to Denise. A week or so later I heard back from her. I tried several times to write again but there wasn’t much to say. It didn't seem right to tell her, "Hey, I jerk off every night thinking about all that sucking and fucking last month." I couldn’t invite her to move out—I was living in a tiny little trailer and not sure whether I had made the right move anyway. Plus, she was just getting out of a marriage. I worked six days a week and didn’t have any vacation for six months so I couldn’t go see her anywhere. So I never wrote back. I knew she had the phone number at the radio station where she could reach me. She never called.

Over the next couple decades I went to a couple of our high school reunions. She never attended. Andi was at the ten year reunion and I asked her what she knew of Denise. She hadn’t talked to her in months. Did I know she had gotten married again? No, I did not.


About the same time I had reunited with Jackie (you might have read about her somewhere) I heard from Denise via e-mail. We went back and forth on e-mail for a few months—nothing sexual, not even vaguely-- just about family, people we both knew, work, and catching up in general. For her part she had a son and had been divorced, the second time, for quite a while. She had worked her way through school and was now working at a university in a state adjacent to where we grew up. One day she sent me an e-mail asking if we might be able to get together for lunch or dinner the next time business brought me anywhere near where she lived. I told her it was an idea that had merit. I hadn’t seen her in twenty-five years. It would take some doing to find a time and a place since business never took me closer than a four hour drive from her town, but it was an idea that had merit.