[- Learning -]

“I’ll get the mediation set for early next week, probably Tuesday since everyone’s schedule seems to align on that day. Again, Denise can’t limit your legal custody, so we’re just fighting the supervised physical custody aspect of these changes to the divorce. You given any more thought to letting Jenny speak?” Lance, my lawyer and longtime friend, asked as I sat in my office rubbing my temples listening to him on speakerphone.

“Denise is protesting that idea,” I replied.

“It always boils down to the child's best interest. Doesn’t matter if we’re trying to get there via mediation or should this progress to court; all courts must evaluate the child's health, safety, and general well-being as their primary objective. There are no abuse, violence, or drug/alcohol considerations here, and in truth they’re banking on a very thin ‘sexual conduct’ argument, saying your dating a transgender woman, in essence, could negatively impact Jenny.

“From what you’ve told me, Sara’s not a concern for Jenny and even Sara’s background makes her appear to be a saint. Jenny’s age plays well with a mediator or judge’s opinion, at least in my experience. She wouldn’t be the only deciding factor in this mediation session or should it go to a hearing, so I really think you should reconsider.”

“Sixteen isn’t eighteen, Lance.”

“Yeah, but if she were eighteen, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he chuckled back at me.

“Agreed…”

“The more mature a child's rationale is in support of their parent’s involvement in their lives, the more weight the court will give the child’s preferences and insights. Look, there’s no specific age when judges will consider a child's opinion, but judges tend to give the opinions of older teenagers more weight—seen it many times before, buddy. I think Jenny could handle herself in an interview ‘in camera,’ which means she sits with the mediating retired judge for an informal conversation at the mediation session. There’d be no one to influence her or give her looks, or her fearing getting in trouble for not backing her mom or dad for that matter. Both sets of lawyers could be present—though unlikely, we’re not typically allowed to speak or ask questions, which is why most times we’re not allowed in on those things. We’ll be able to watch the interview from one of the waiting rooms.”

“Alright, push for it… I’ll take Jen’s temperature on it again, though I’m sure she’d be alright with speaking to the mediator.”

“Good, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Appreciate that, Lance,” I replied.

“You won’t when you see my bill,” he laughed back at me over the phone.

“Did I mention my managerial fees were going up on certain friends’ asset accounts?” I asked.

[---]

It had been a week since Denise laid into me about Sara. I had been seeing Sara every morning at the café, except this past weekend, and talking with her a few times a day either via texts or when she wasn’t busy and felt like calling. I felt we weren’t in sync, though, but I had to step back and look at the broader picture, realizing she was also busy with plenty of demands in her life. Those demands ranged from studying to shifting her career to a more OR-focused path to volunteering at a Trans youth shelter and even getting in to see her counselor this past Monday to work on some dysphoria and anxiety she’d been feeling.

We’d talked about that a little over the weekend and again this morning, about her dysphoria and feeling as though she’d lost some of her ‘swagger’.

“Yes, some of what I’m dealing with is because of her,” Sara admitted to me after I’d joined her at our table in the café.

I knew Denise was a bigger issue than Sara had let on, but I didn’t want to push or pry too much. Was it best to let that scab over or pick at it to solve the issue long term? Either way there was bound to be a scar.

“What does your counselor think?”

“Her usual… Think it out, acknowledge how I feel, look for the positives, and don’t let it dictate my moving on to taking that next breath.”

“Can I do more to help?”

“I kind of thought you had last night after dinner, didn’t you?” she asked, smiling, one brow raised to accentuate the question.

Last night was the second time we’d been intimate, other than a few make-out sessions that got interrupted by calls or life or that one morning in my shower where she’d done all the heavy lifting. While I’d absolutely say last night was amazing in every way, there was an itch inside my brain telling me we were a bit off kilter yet.

“Come on, you know what I’m asking.”

“I do… That we can share in that, though, being together, it’s affirming and does more for me than you probably realize,” she replied softly.

Affirmation and validation of who she was were important concepts to her, and she’d shared those ideas with me a few times—though I was probably slow to realize the weight of their importance. She stressed I didn't have to fully understand why things weighed so heavily on her; I just needed to respect her feelings, to listen, and not force my opinions or feelings on how she felt. And finally, I needed to trust what she was telling me or that a decision she was making was the right one for her.

I'm not exactly sure why, but I found it easy to be mindful of all that, and I think she appreciated my efforts. I still couldn’t help but feel like I could be doing more.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

“More so than I’ve been in a long time,” she said, placing her hand on mine.

[---]

That evening Jenny had a band concert, and I had joked with Sara in a text message after lunch that it wasn’t too late for her to consider coming along.

Me: You could come.

Sara: Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I’m relining the drawers and cabinets in my kitchen with little chicken logo shelving paper. Probably be an all nighter.

Me: You’re kidding, right?

Sara: Yes, the stuff isn’t chickens; it’s ducks, actually. BTW, I’m doing a shift early tomorrow, then an OR observation at 4—not likely out of there until late. Call you later, K?

Me: Alright. I should be home after 9.

Sara: Hugz!

Guess we weren’t seeing each other tonight or tomorrow. I’d have Jenny Friday night for the weekend, and Lance’s advice had been to curtail having Sara around Jenny—at least until after the mediation session, which he said would be on Tuesday. Not sure why I had joked with Sara about coming to the concert tonight. I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, but I wanted her to know I wanted her around—no matter the environment. Shit, I needed to be smarter!

I gave Denise and Gary a moment with Jen after she exited to the lobby outside the auditorium from a door that said ‘Stage’. I’d hung back, and when I noticed Jen was looking for me, I raised my hand to get her attention. She smiled, headed my way, and we were hugging a few moments later.

“That was really enjoyable, kiddo,” I told her as we hugged.

“Thanks, Dad… No Sara?” she asked.

“I invited her, but she didn’t want to be a distraction.”

“Right… Lance asked me if she and I talked, and I asked him why. He said until after the thing Tuesday, it was probably best to focus on not pissing Mom off.”

“I’m sure that’s not what he said, Jen…”

“It kind of boils down to that, though, right?” she questioned.

“Maybe a teaspoon's worth, but your mom gets an opinion—even if it’s a sucky one that isn’t…,” I began saying, but was interrupted.

“It’s a messed-up one, Dad,” she complained quietly as someone she knew walked by and patted her on the back.

“Who’s that?”

“Trinity… She plays the French horn, second chair, and she’s Trans.”

I turned to watch the girl walking away, heading for a group of students.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“Have you two ever hung out?” I asked, turning back to Jen.

“A couple of times, like at the mall, at lunch, and stuff like that.”

“Does your mom know?”

“About Trinity? She’s heard me talk about her, but not that she’s Trans.”

“Is that why Sara isn’t a big deal?”

“No… Geesh, Dad, why would that have anything to do with it?” she complained.

“IDK… Maybe you’ve been exposed to this idea that someone could be Trans, have a friend who’s Trans, and, like, you’re just more in tune to what both Sara and Trinity are going through. That’s all I thought,” I countered.

Jen stared at me a long moment, then said, “See that guy by the sign?”

I turned to look. “The black kid?”

“That’s not what I asked…”

“Wrong guy?” I asked, looking to see if I’d missed some signage on the wall elsewhere.

“No, right guy, but I don’t see the color of his skin, just a guy who’s in my AP Biology class that’s a DJ, dating a guy on the football team, and is super nice to everyone. I don’t see Sara as anything but a woman trying to live her best life; being Trans isn’t what defines her or Trinity for that matter.”

Okay, I deserved that. I was about to say something to that effect, but I noticed Denise and Gary were almost upon us.

“Gary, Denise… Great concert, eh?” I asked.

“It was,” Gary offered. “Good to see you, Brad… I’m going to bring the car around,” he said to Denise and left us after she’d squeezed his hand.

“Jen, can you give your father and me a moment?”

“Not if you’re thinking about making a scene,” was her reply.

“I don’t think that’s on the agenda, Jenny,” I said quickly to head off any explosive reaction from my ex-wife while getting a ‘death’ stare from my daughter while I was trying to keep the peace.

Thankfully, Jen left us without anything further to say besides she was going to ‘hang’ with Trinity for a minute.

“What’s up?” I asked Denise when we were alone.

“Tuesday, I don’t want Jen involved with the mediation session.”

“Okay, but I do, and I think she can handle it.”

“With your coaching her this weekend?” she asked.

“I don’t need to coach Jen on anything. Do you even listen to your daughter? I mean, like, have a conversation about some topic and really just listen to her?” I complained.

“Is there a point you want to make?”

“Yeah, you might want to pay attention to the things she’s saying, thinking, and feeling are important. Not just about this issue we’re having, but all kinds of things. She’s very much thinking beyond her sixteen years of age,” I stated.

“I do listen to her… To the sixteen-year-old girl who’s enamored by video games and boys and watches cartoons still every morning before school. Are you trying to say I’m not plugged into what’s important to our daughter?”

“No, but you’re causing Jen unneeded stress and worry by chasing this thing down with Sara. I promise you it’s not playing well with her…”

“Noted, but you might want to consider that same idea having that drag queen around Jenny,” she said before turning to get Jen and head out.

I’d have told her to fuck off, but could only stew. I watched her gather Jen, Jen giving me a little wave, and made my way out of the auditorium.

[---]

Three days had passed, and the amount of contact I’d had with Sara was far less than I was hoping for. I hadn’t seen her since Tuesday night, and I wanted to believe she wasn’t still considering putting the brakes on the idea of us dating, but it was hard to not have that thought repeat over and over again while I was missing her.

Even Jenny noticed I was moping around Saturday before we headed over to The Shops at Chestnut Hill to figure out getting her some heels for a dress Denise had bought her to attend the ‘Christmas Formal.’. Jenny pressed a few times, but I had said everything was fine.

“Know who’d totally rock these booties?”

“You?” I asked skeptically thinking we’d come looking for heels and I was going to get sucked into buying a pair of ‘booties’.

“No! Sara… You know her shoe size?” Jen asked.

“Ah… Afraid I don’t kiddo. We haven’t gotten that far, you know, the exchange of shoe sizes and all that,” I replied comically.

“Yeah, not sure I buy that, Dad.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw the way she looked at you the other night; that’s not a ‘you don’t know her shoe size’ look,” she said with a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, we about done here?” I asked, trying to sway the conversation.

I watched her pull her phone out, check something, and put it back in her purse.

“Those black pumps from the first store we were in, those are the ones I think. Can we go back and get those and then get something to eat? There’s a pizza place I hear is pretty good in this mall,” she said with some enthusiasm I had no way of keeping up with after being drug around far too many stores.

“Sure… Let’s get the shoes and a gooey cheese full of meats pizza...”

“Or how about we do something vegetarian?”

I just rolled my eyes at her in reply.

[---]

We entered Frank Pepe’s just after 6 PM and were told we’d have about a ten-minute wait, fifteen tops. It took less than a minute, though, for me to get a surprise—someone wrapping their arms around me from behind.

“Sara? What are you doing…,” I saw the smirk and head nod towards Jen. “You did this?”

“I might have reached out on Facebook Messenger that we’d like to see her,” Jen replied.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“You joining us?” I asked Sara.

“No, you two are joining me. I’ve got us a table already; just waiting on you slowpokes…”

Dinner had been a whirlwind of laughs, a little serious talk about current events to keep it spicy, and a whole lot of ‘boy’ talk between the two girls at the table. Watching these two girls giggle and joke, mostly at my expense, really had buoyed my spirits, especially since it felt like Sara and I seemed to be back in that groove we’d been in pre-Denise blowup. Getting to sit next to Sara, to hold her hand for a good part of the evening, had made it an even more connected night for me.

I realized I really needed this time with her and to what extent I’d missed being around her the last couple of days. We were walking from the restaurant to our cars a little after 9 PM with full bellies and at least one of us with a fuller heart. There was a nice hug exchanged between Sara and Jen, and I got a quick kiss and a hug that would need to last a couple of days.

“Pretty sneaky, Jen,” I’d said as we were pulling out from our parking space.

I could see Sara’s car pulling away from two aisles over, and I had learned on the walk out to the cars that it was planned so we’d be in the same general area after dinner.

“I like her, Dad… She kind of just fits you, know what I mean?”

“I think I do, kiddo...,” was my answer.

[---]

I’d texted Sara Sunday morning about coming over after Jen headed back home. The reply was she was working until 4 PM but had committed to going to a kids birthday party for one of her friends. I told her to enjoy, was then invited to go with her, accepted after some convincing, and was told to be ready for a quick drive-by pickup at 4:30 PM.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at Sara after getting in her car at exactly 4:31 PM, kissing her, and buckling up.

“Hey yourself…” she said, wasting no time heading out to some neighborhood between our respective residences. “So, I probably should tell you where we’re going, huh?”

“A kids birthday party, right?”

“Yes, that, but… We’re heading over to Megan’s place; that's not going to be weird or anything?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“No, of course not… I know Megan and her girls, Kelly and Breanna, right? Which one is having a birthday?” I asked thinking I probably should have known this.

I couldn’t tell you their ages, but I knew their names, the trouble they’d gotten into with scissors and cutting their hair last year, and maybe a few other stories. Was I just oblivious to remembering something like their ages or birthdates? I know Megan had probably told me, but my interactions with her were just part of my routine. Did I care or did she mean as much to me cruising through life as my Peloton?

“Breanna’s; she’ll be six on Tuesday. I’m her godmother, and, yeah, I owe a lot of my success in life to not only my mom but Meg’s too. She sat up with me a few too many times, talking me off a few hundred ledges over the years. She’s like the sister I never had,” she explained.

“I’m happy to go; I enjoy Megan, and I just want to be with you, so it’s a win-win plus a bonus.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching over to take my hand.

[---]

The party turned out to be a lot like the ones we’d had for Jenny when she was Breanna’s age. Way too much sugar being ingested, too many activities where it felt like we were herding cats, and some tired adults by the end of it. When we arrived back at my place, just before 9 PM, I’d asked if Sara wanted to come up.

There was hesitation before she said, “I would love that, but I’ve been up since 4 AM, have been on my feet most of the day, and I’m mentally beat. I barely feel like I got to talk to you tonight; I’m sorry about that...,” Sara said taking my hand.

“We talked. Come on, it wasn’t that bad… Plus I got to talk with people about you, chase kids around; it’s all good.”

“Yeah, more like those friends of mine were checking you out and wondering why you’d want to be with me,” she said jokingly.

“I didn’t get that feeling from anyone. In fact, I got told a few times how lucky I was, and I have to agree.”

Sara spun in her seat, got her hands behind my neck, and pulled me in for a kiss that gave me no doubt how lucky I really was. When she broke the kiss, she leaned her forehead against mine.

“You sure you’re okay with me calling it a night?”

“Absolutely… Café in the morning though, right?” I asked and delivered a tiny peek on her lips.

“Wouldn’t miss it…”

“Text me when you get home?” I asked.

“I will… G’night.”

[- Keys -]

Sara had beaten me to Café Duro, which wasn’t much of a surprise—she generally did, but what was a surprise was seeing a small bouquet of flowers sitting on the table with her. While getting coffee, it was killing me to not ask Megan about them as she went on and on about how much fun the girls had with me last night, how she appreciated my jumping in and helping out, and to pass on that her girls wanted to know when I was coming back with Auntie Sara. It took a lot of self-control to squash the jealous guy routine trying to freeze my ego out and not say something stupid about the flowers.

Wasn’t giving a woman flowers kind of her man’s job? Was I her man? Did Sara think that or tell others she was seeing me? We were seeing each other, right? Was there some point we’d be or make that official?

I got no support from the retired guys after getting my Americano, though I did get a question about the ‘Twenty-five’ rule. I explained it as basically how much you wanted to live on in retirement yearly, multiplied by twenty-five, to come up with what you’d need in retirement savings before pulling the plug. Certainly just a gauge and they were well beyond needing a gauge since they were retired. I’d asked why they were asking, and it turned out to be a question one of their kids had asked them about.

They thought I’d have an opinion I would offer up about it and did—stressing ‘guide,’ not steadfast rule. Glad I could help, guys! How about setting me up with your kid to manage their assets? I considered asking that, but let it go because I had a terminal case of ‘flowers’ on the brain.

“Morning…,” I said, leaning in to give Sara a quick kiss before sitting.

“Hey…”

“Flowers, for me? You shouldn’t have…,” I joked.

I doubt it sounded like I was joking, but I’d tried awfully damn hard to be playful about it and not show I was bothered that someone had given her flowers. Wait! Megan? A thank you for ‘Auntie Sara’ from the girls? Shit!

She looked at me for a moment as if contemplating something, smiled, reached into her purse, and pulled out a card, placing it on the bouquet, and slid everything over to me.

“I was kidding… Who are,” and I saw my name on the card, looked up at her as she wagged one brow at me playfully. “Really?”

“Just wanted to say thank you for yesterday, for helping out at the party, putting up with a herd of screaming little girls for most of that, and gracefully accepting my turning down coming up last night,” she said, reaching over to put her hand on mine, before adding, “You can read the card later...”

It took a second to process what she’d said…

“I, no…. Really, I was happy to help, and it was fun. Seriously, I had a really good time,” I replied quickly. “I’ve never had anyone give me flowers before; I’m a little, like, shocked, but thank you… It’s kind of cool.”

You couldn’t grind the smile off of my face if you tried.

“Well, I’m glad to be the first to have done that then,” she said, smiling back at me.

“You want to do anything tonight, dinner maybe?”

“I’d love to, but I have that group thing. Usually goes ‘til 9, and by the time I get home, my brain is moosh… Rain check?”

“Absolutely,” I began, but felt like I needed to ask, “You’re not still worried about tomorrow, are you?”

“Would it help to lie and say I wasn’t?” she asked, but I knew exactly what she was trying to say.

“Lance seemed pretty confident the mediator is going to blast Denise for pushing this as a frivolous waste of everyone’s time,” I offered.

“Are you still going to have Jenny speak?”

“Yeah, she’s agreed to speak, though I’ve caught some crap for that, and you know what? I don’t care that Denise is pissed at me about it.”

“But, she’ll also be disappointed in Jenny… I, I don’t like being a problem for Jenny or anyone for that matter,” Sara replied softly.

“You are not a problem; come on… Jen sees the world a lot more clearly than I did at her age. Everything is going to work out...”

[---]

Not typical, but Sara left the café before I did. We’d talked a bit while I researched the futures, which, along with everything else I was seeing, indicated a rough day for the market. I found that annoying, because nothing of significance had occurred over the weekend, though the president-elect did spend a bunch of time yammering about the current president setting us up to get dragged into WWIII. What a moron! And to think his dribble could manipulate the market so much! What were people thinking?! THINK!!! Don’t just react!

No sooner had Sara exited the café, after a very nice parting kiss, I was tearing into the card she’d given me:

Brad,

Hey, just a little note to thank you for being you when you’re with me. I know chasing a bunch of little girls around yesterday probably wasn’t something you wanted to be doing, and I promise you I’d like to have been doing other things with you, but Meg’s appreciates us helping out.

I like to think I’ve got things pretty well situated in my life, but in reality a lot of that’s an illusion, and I’m pretty good at maintaining it for those that I cross paths with. Since meeting you, I find I’m more comfortable with myself, worry less about how others perceive me, and that’s certainly made an impact on my career recently. I know I’m doing the work and putting in the effort, but I think a lot of that newfound confidence I’m tapping into is because of you and how you make me feel safe and okay to just be myself.

I know tomorrow is going to be stressful not only for Jenny, but you too. I know I’ve apologized for that a few times, and you’ve been very kind and supportive about it not interfering with us being together. I find myself addicted to you, so if the ruling is we need to put things on hold, I want you to know I’m going to fight like hell to keep you in my life no matter what. Just saying!

Hugz!

Sara

I stared at the card, reread that last bit again, and couldn’t help but smile. My phone vibrated. I’d received a text, and that smile got a little bigger.

Sara: You good?

Me: Not sure what you’re talking about.

I couldn’t help but razz her a bit. It took a full minute for her to reply, and I was beginning to worry I shouldn’t have joked about knowing what she was asking.

Sara: Oh. Thought you’d have read the card by now; sorry.

Me: I did, and I’m going to avoid any twelve-step programs.

Was I pushing it by being so flip? Should I have just said I was happy she wanted to stick around?

Sara: Are you now? Well, that makes me happy. (*smiley face emoji*)

Me: And I’m very happy to have the opportunity to make you happy. (*heart emoji*) Talk later?

Sara: It’s a date!

[---]

I finished my research routine, gathered up my things—and my bouquet of flowers, talked to the retired guys for a second—got told they’d never gotten flowers before from their wives, and made it to work by 8 AM. After a few calls, which ended up turning into selling some shares of stock for a client and rolling those proceeds into T-bills, Ken popped his head into my office.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

He looked behind him to Marty’s office, looked to be considering something, stepped into my office, and closed the door.

“Talked to Marty after work Friday, and he mentioned you’re seeing a Trans woman.”

I nodded and was happy I hadn’t detected anything unusual in his tone, just a long-time friend trying to get some clarification. He’d given me friendly grief that morning after I’d been with Sara, but it wasn’t anything like what Marty had thrown at me.

“You two have a falling out? I mean, he sure made it sound like he’d stepped in it pretty good with you.”

“His concerns about my dating Sara could have been presented differently,” I replied.

“Well, who you decide to see is none of our business. I know you know that, but I just wanted you to hear that from me. Marty probably said some shit about the business, but he knows better, so don’t go thinking either one of us would ever question your commitment to what we’ve got going on here.”

“Thanks for that. I appreciate knowing you’ve got my back.”

“Yeah, no problem, but he does too… Look, the LGBTQ+ stuff isn’t something he’s plugged into, and his ignorance on that likely was annoying to say the least. Give him some rope, okay? I talked to Lisa, and she wants to have everyone over for dinner at our place this weekend, if you and Sara don’t already have plans.”

Lisa was Ken’s wife and someone I really liked being around—Ken too, honestly; both of them I’d consider some of my closest friends. When Denise had filed for divorce three years ago, Lisa had been supportive, a sounding board, and listened to me beating myself up over failing at my marriage on more than a few occasions. The invite for dinner was her trying to olive branch the divide between Marty and me. Knowing Ken didn’t have an issue with Sara and he was willing to help straighten out Marty was reassuring to me.

“Sounds good; let me ask her what she’s got going on. She’s a nurse and has shifted her focus to working in the OR, so her hours are kind of wonky. Get back to you this afternoon?” I asked.

“Perfect…”

[---]

I’d hopped in the shower to finish up my nightly routine and had just started washing my hair when my phone began ringing on the vanity across from the shower. I knew it had to be Sara, so I tried to flush the suds from my hair enough to at least answer the phone—which I’m sure probably looked comical. A slug's trail of water and soap was left from shower to vanity as I tried to grab it, prayed it wouldn’t got to voice mail, and fiddled with answering it – wet fingers and all by the fifth ring.

“Hey…”

“Ah, what are you doing? What’s that noise?” Sara asked.

“I’m in the shower,” I said, retreating back to the shower with phone in hand and holding it outside the shower door to keep it from getting any more wet.

“Really? I should have FaceTimed you,” she said, giggling.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that and asked, “Wanna give me like 5 minutes and call back?”

“No…”

Not the answer I was expecting, and I was momentarily concerned.

“Something wrong?” I asked, probably sounding worried or at the least trying to hide I was worried.

“Can I ask you one simple question?”

Okay, something was definitely wrong, even though she’d just giggled all cutesy at me. She didn’t sound particularly angry or upset, but maybe when we’d talked at lunch about dinner this weekend at Ken’s, she’d had a change of heart? I told her what I thought dinner was, a ‘make nice’ attempt between Marty and me, plus everyone getting to meet her. Did she not want to meet my friends? I’d met several of hers yesterday and I thought that went well. Did one of them not like me and say something to her?

I turned and got a hand on the shower's control and turned the flow of water off.

“Is this about dinner at Ken’s?”

“No… My question is who do you expect is going to wash your back?”

“My back?” I asked, but knew what was going on quickly – she was messing with me! “Oh, well that’s a funny story. See this girl I’m into? She couldn’t come over, so I reached out to a high school crush I had, and she’s…”

I didn’t get to finish my shtick before being interrupted.

“Wanna let me in? I was able to get into your building; I’m at your door. I think I’d like to kick that woman’s ass,” she said softly.

“I should probably get you a set of keys,” I said, grabbing a towel, setting the phone down, and getting wrapped up in it. “Be right there…”

[---]

At my door was a conservatively dressed and very attractive woman who quickly slipped into my condo after I’d opened the door. She was just as quick to get her arms around me once inside the door, and when it was closed, she backed me into said door and was kissing me passionately. Her hands began to explore, touching gently, caressing sensually, and after a few moments of us enjoying that interlude I was being led to my bedroom, then the bathroom.

The towel I’d been wrapped in was removed, I was encouraged to get the shower situated, asked where there were candles, and left there waiting for Sara’s return. A few minutes later she entered the bathroom naked, carrying two battery-operated candles, turned the light off after setting them on the vanity, and joined me.

I got my arms around her after closing the shower door and said, “This is certainly a pleasant surprise.”

A tight hug and a quick kiss that said she was happy that I was happy she was here. When we broke, she was looking at me curiously.

“What?” I asked.

“Offering to get me a set of keys, that’s kind of a big step, isn’t it?”

“Would it be?”

“No, no, no… Answer my question first,” she said playfully.

“Are we together?” I asked, staring at her, trying to read her mind.

“You tell me…”

“I’d like that to be what we’re doing, figuring out at whatever pace you’re comfortable with if we complement one another.”

“Would we have to mesh on every aspect?”

“I’m not sure I understand that question, but if you’re saying we both have to like mustard on burgers or hot dogs, the answer is no,” I replied, though not as confidently as I thought I should have and smiled weakly at her wondering what she would say to that.

I’d never want to limit her in any capacity. Hell, Jenny was my shining example of pouring my desire for her to be a strong independent woman some day and she was well on that path. I certainly wouldn’t want to be with someone who ‘had’ to feed me and opinion on something or expected me to think or feel the same way about something. Ugh!

“Oh, well that’s a deal breaker,” she said, though her smile said she was screwing with me again. “Mustard absolutely belongs on a burger and hot dog. Not sure I could be with a man that didn’t…”

I was done with talking and purposely kissed her to shut her up as my hands greedily squeezed her ass.

[---]

It was probably one of the quickest showers I’d ever shared with a woman and I’m pretty sure the reason for that was we had other desires besides washing one another’s backs. As it happened last time Sara had been here, I was encouraged to get comfortable in bed and she’d join me in a minute. I’d go out on a limb and say it was maybe thirty seconds before she joined me in my darkened room, the door to the bathroom left open and the fake candles doing little to illuminate the bedroom.

I watched her naked form climb into bed, promptly straddle me, and with some slow, careful guidance of my shaft by her hands I was inside of her before I could comprehend there’d be no ‘foreplay’ tonight. Fine by me!

My hands were encouraged, actually brought from where I’d had a light grip on her waist up to her breasts as she rocked her hips slowly to take me in and then nearly out. She moaning when I pulled at her nipples had her increasing those movements of her hips with me inside of her. Her hand dropped to her pussy a few seconds later and there were additional sighs and whimpers as she rubbed her clitoral area rapidly – all while rolling and grinding her hips delivering the most intense pleasure for me.

To say I was in awe of this woman on top of me, her raw sexuality, her going after her own pleasure while knowing full well she had me wrapped around her fingers and was providing me as much or more, would be the understatement of the year. I could feel the shivering throughout her body as she’d hit what I can only assume was an orgasm. It was likely less than a minute later I was cumming and she rode my pulsing cock to another full body convulsion that made her fall forward, get her arms around me, and squeeze me so tight I wasn’t sure I could breath!

When she let loose her death grip on me it was to do nothing but try to soak up every ounce of what we’d just shared together. I know that’s what I was doing and God did I feel amazing right now!

“You good,” I whispered, hugging her tighter and kissing her neck.

“That wasn’t obvious?” she asked sounding out of breath.

“Oh, I wasn’t asking about ‘that’ specifically, but if I were, well I’d want you to know I loved every damn second of that…”

“Then I’m happy I decided to come over,” she whispered back as me, moving her hips awkwardly to get my waning cock to finally slip out of her.

I could feel her whole body relax after she’d done that.

“You know what Jenny told me?”

“That’s random,” she started saying, paused and finished with, “Not a clue…”

“That you ‘fit’ me, I feel like that’s pretty insightful, because I feel like you do.”

“No matter what happens tomorrow?”

“Absolutely…”

Author's note: Might not be able to post the next, likely final, chapter to this story until the week after Christmas due to other obligations (not to mention I haven't crafted a single word of that). I apologize in advance for that and will try very hard to get you something. Hugz!

::: --- :::

Don't be afraid to click the "Kudos" (Thumbs Up) icon for this story if it's done anything for you. If you comment, I will reply.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected]) - I'd love to address them if I can and have fixed many an “Oops!” after posting a story (Thanks to All for those assists – very much appreciated). I'm still growing as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued.

Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore