TITLE    : A Short Walk
STORYID  : a-short-walk
SUMMARY  : Distressed woman meets a stranger.
AUTHOR   : blueboar@lit
DATE     : 2001-09-04
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |none|


It wasn't a heart-attack, I kept repeating to myself as I closed the door behind me and walked into the kitchen. It wasn't. That's what the doctor said. I put the keys on the counter. Still, to see him on his back like that, the tubes and everything. Why did he have to work so hard? He was only forty-one and in the hospital for observation. We were doing fine. More than fine. I took off the jacket and hung it in the closet.



I stopped. Something wasn't right.



Silence.



It was frightening. Dinner time and the sound of nothing. No kids, no dog, no boiling water, no NPR on the radio, no Larry hurriedly talking this way and that to no one in particular, nothing. I hadn't eaten anything since a bowl of cereal this morning, but I wasn't hungry. It would be depressing to prepare something now.



I was alone.



I looked at the phone. Call mom. The kids were there, with her. The dog, too. Maybe later. I would pick them up later. Larry's command at the hospital was clear. "Go home," he'd said. "Go home, get some rest and pick me up in the morning." But I knew I had to see him one more time. I had to. Later. I could pick up the kids later, after I saw Larry and kissed him good night.



Why did the doctors have to keep him there for a night of observation? If he was okay, why? What if he wasn't there tomorrow. . . . I jumped and then froze.



The phone was ringing. Something was wrong. Something had happened. I knotted my hands tightly against my shirt. I dreaded the phone. Five hours ago it had rung and Larry's manager had told me what had happened, that Larry was on his way to the hospital in the ambulance, having fainted during a presentation. That awful phone. And then the rush to the mini van, the blind drive to the hospital and then seeing him on his back, pale, frightened.



The phone kept ringing and I kept looking at it, my body shaking.



Answer the thing something inside me said sternly. Answer the damn thing. I walked quickly and picked it up.



"Hello," I whispered and held my breath. I sighed, relieved. Mom.



"He's fine, mom. I'm sorry. I was just going to call you. I just got in. I'm sorry. Yes . . . yes, all the tests. Right. The EKG was normal . . . yes . . . No. Tomorrow . . . They just want to keep him overnight for observation. Very standard . . . How are the boys?"



* * *



I stepped out of the house. The sun was deep into the horizon September. The gray clouds. Fall in the air. I loved fall, the crisp air, the leaves, the walks with Larry. I sighed and shook my head as I started walking down the street. I needed to clear to clear my head. Such awful, horrible thoughts and feelings. I needed to walk to stop the watering of my eyes. Stop it. He would be fine. A walk would be good. Be back in an hour, drive to the hospital and kiss Larry goodnight. Then drive to mom's and pick up the kids. I smiled thinking about the look of surprise on his face when he would see me in an hour or so. The old curmudgeon would act upset, but I knew he would be happy to see me.



* * *



I sat on the park bench, watching the kids play soccer. My legs felt tired even though the walk had been barely a mile. The children's delighted screams and the dull thud of the ball being kicked reminded me of the wonderful days a few years ago when the boys were in grade school, when they played and Larry and I stood on the sidelines watching them. I watched the mothers and the fathers looking on, their eyes following their children. Some looked excited--one of their kids had just made a nice pass-- others tried to hide their frustration when they saw their child fall to the grass. I smiled. They held hands, some of them, so like Larry and me.



But Larry wasn't here with me. Don't think it. Do not think it. I couldn't help it. What would I do without Larry? Financially we would be fine. Life insurance. No. God. Don't think that. No, I sighed. I'd just go back to teaching, but . . . life without Larry. Too horrible to think about. Don't do it. Larry was my life, almost twenty years. Don't do it. Watch the kids, hear them yell, listen to their parents' excited cheers.



I looked around. The game was ending, people were walking away, hugging their children, each other. And my throat started tightening. I panicked. I wasn't there, with them. I couldn't see myself with them anymore. I wasn't like them. They were laughing, together. The park was quickly emptying. I was alone. Larry's touch. I needed. . . .



I tried to get up, but couldn't. I shivered. I felt so cold. I looked at my watch. It was time. Get up. I couldn't. I felt planted. I breathed in again, but it did no good. I could feel my eyes welling up. Be strong. Larry needs you strong. Don't. It didn't help.



I felt the first tear fall to my cheek and I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed. No one must see. But another followed quickly, falling on the other cheek. I wiped it, too. But it wouldn't stop. First one eye and then the other. And then in a steady slow stream. And they kept falling, slowly, evenly one after another. There were too many. I couldn't wipe them all away. I swallowed. So silly you are. He's fine. Everything will be fine. Everything. . . .



"Are you okay?"



I looked, jumped in my seat.



"Are you okay?"



I nodded, looking down.



"Can I help you?"



I kept looking down, shaking my head. But the tears wouldn't stop. I was crying. And he was still there. I could feel him looking down, watching me. I tried to get up, run away, but I couldn't. Larry. I needed. . . .



I felt him gently touch my shoulder.



"Do you need help?"



I breathed in, again, a great gulp of air. The tears were stopping. His hand helped.



I looked up, bleary eyed, but I saw him, his concerned face.



"You okay?" he asked.



"Yes," I said, but wasn't sure I'd said anything. My voice didn't sound normal. Nothing was.



He nodded and watched me. His hand left my shoulder and I felt alone again.



"Do you need a ride home . . . or?" he was trying to say.



I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. Really."



He nodded and then started backing away. "Okay," he said softly and turned around.



I watched him walk, get to his car and open the door. He turned around and nodded slightly in my direction and got in the car. The car started and I looked away. I was slightly heartened at his kind gesture. I wasn't entirely alone. People were good. He would be going.



I would go, too. So silly. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I took another deep breath and tried to stand up and the world spun. I could hardly feel my legs and sat down again quickly before I fell. Where was my strength? Everything had been sapped, it seemed.



A car door opened and slammed shut. I turned. He was walking to me. He was standing over me again. 



"Let me take you home," he said. "I don't think you're well."



I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. It's been a hard day. That's all."



"Okay, but let me take you home."



I shook my head once more.



"Let me call your husband, then." 



I looked up, surprised, and saw him glancing at my ring.



"He's in the hospital."



A look of understanding passed over him and he studied me for a few seconds. "Is he okay?"



Was he okay? Larry would be home tomorrow, wouldn't he? Of course. I nodded eagerly, more to myself than to him. "Yes. Just a big scare."



"Do you live far from here?"



"No."



"Can you walk home?"



What a silly question. Of course. But my legs. There was nothing there. I could hardly feel anything. "I don't know," I admitted.



He was reaching down, softly grabbing my arm. "Come on," he said flatly. "You should be home."



His strength felt good and my legs stiffened a bit as I felt myself lifted to my feet and walking shakily, gripping his arm for support, to his car. He opened the door and helped me in.



* * *



"That one, right there," I pointed to our house.



He nodded, the soccer coach, and pulled into the driveway. He put the car into park.



He turned to me. "Your husband will be fine. From everything you told me, there's nothing to worry about, okay?"



I nodded, beginning to feel the earlier weakness overcome me once more.



"Do you need help getting to your door?"



I felt panicked. He was leaving me. My legs. . . . What was wrong with me?



"No," I quivered. "I'll be fine."



"Okay," he smiled. "Take care of yourself."



I couldn't move. My feet would not move.



He waited a bit, looked at me sadly and then opened his door and walked around to mine. He opened it and his hand reached down to my arm for the second time.



* * *



He sat me down gingerly in a kitchen chair.



"How are you feeling?"



"I'll be okay. Thank you, for everything. I feel so embarrassed."



He shook his head. I tried smiling up to show my appreciation. He took out a pen and a small notebook. He scribbled.



"Here," he said, handing the paper to me. I took it.



"Call that number if you need any help." He smiled and straightened up. "Don't worry about anything. Everything will be fine. You just need to rest."



"Are you going?" I asked, starting to feel awful once more.



"Yes."



"Let me make you some coffee." And as I said it, my mind was asking me, Why are you offering this man coffee?



"That's very nice, but I have to go," he replied after a pause.



I nodded, feeling the tears welling up.



"Don't be like that. I know. . . ." he started. He looked around a little. "You have kids?"



I nodded.



"Where are they now?"



"My mom's."



"Is your mom far from here?"



I shook my head.



"Well, let me take you there, then. You'll feel better with your family."



Mom? She would think I was crazy. Being driven around by a stranger, acting like. . . What would the boys say? They were old enough to understand things. No, I couldn't go to mom's.



"You don't want any coffee?" I asked.



"I would love some, really, but my wife is probably wondering where I am now," he grinned.



I smiled and nodded. I stood up. "I just need to go lie down for a bit, I guess. That's all."



"That should help," he agreed.



"I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm usually very strong."



"I'd be no different if something like this happened to my wife."



"It's just that . . . well, you really appreciate how fleeting everything is when something like this happens . . . even if it's not serious," I added quickly.



He nodded. "You were probably a lot stronger at the hospital."



I tried laughing. "Yes. I was. I took care everything, all of those forms, talked to the doctors and nurses, everything."



"You were being strong for him and now your system's paying the price of all that pent up anxiety. Have you eaten anything?"



I shook my head. That's right. That's all it was. I jumped at his explanation. Pent up anxiety. "Are you a doctor?" I asked sincerely. He looked like a doctor, just the sort of person who would help sick people, but still have enough time to coach kids' soccer. Tall, clean-shaven, tweed jacket and tie.



"No," he shook his head smiling. "But I play one on TV."



I laughed, feeling much better. Things were becoming clearer, more normal. I hadn't laughed all day. I loved to laugh. I needed it. Everything would be fine. So silly earlier.



"I just feel so alone right now, you know?" I said after a moment, a warmth starting to spread over me, which I couldn't quite understand.



He nodded.



"Thank you again for everything." I said quickly, as a lewd flash, a disgusting image suddenly flashed of this man and me naked, in each others' arms. What was wrong with me? First, I can't walk. And now I'm getting excited. I held my hand out to him.



He took it, smiling. It felt warm. He released his light grip, but that touch, so uneventful, startled me.



He saw me sway unsteadily. "Are you okay?" he reached forward to stop me from falling and I let myself go into his arms, and everything burst. Everything. Tears started flooding, overcoming me. I moaned in an awful despair. Why did Larry do this to me? Always, I told him to take it easy. Where was he? What would happen to him? To the kids? To me? I could feel my body convulsing, shaking in his arms. And he held me.



"Shhhh," he was whispering, gently rocking me. "Shhhh. It's going to be okay. Everything. Shhhh."



I felt myself being walked to the living room, being held, crying, never wanting to be let go. He sat me down on a couch, but I couldn't stop crying and kept my face buried in his chest. We sat, me crying and him stroking my hair for what seemed like the longest time, but I'm sure it was only a couple of minutes.



I looked up at him and shook my head. "I'm so sorry. I can't understand," I tried but the tears wouldn't stop. He stopped me from another attempt at explanation, placing his forefinger gently against my chapped lips.



He and Larry were so unlike, I thought as I looked at him. I smiled to myself, laughing a little, the tears slowly stopping. In this situation, Larry would be uncomfortable, running around, trying somehow to escape from the unpleasantness of a stranger's sadness. Not him. He smiled gently, understanding, stroking my cheek, holding me tightly against him. He knew I needed his comfort, his strength and it didn't bother him to offer it for a few minutes, which meant nothing to him in the totality of his life, but for me were precious, almost a temporary life preserve.



"What do you want me to do for you?" he asked softly.



I shook my head. I didn't know, didn't want to acknowledge what I really wanted, what was growing inside me. Even as exhausted as I was, as miserable as I felt, one thing seemed more paramount than anything else. Maybe it was genetics or evolution, but in every nature show I'd ever seen, in any semi-monogamous relationship, whenever the male was killed or died, the female instantly turned her attention to another male, giving herself to him. It didn't make me sick--the man holding me was very good- looking and kind--so much as confuse and embarrass me. I tried to push the thoughts away, bury them, but it did no good. And as extraordinarily bizarre as it might sound, I didn't even feel that it would be a betrayal of Larry. This was more, something very natural, almost a matter of self-preservation, had nothing to do with him. I wanted this man to make love to me. No. It shouldn't be colored in any sort of rational framework.



There. I'd thought it. Explicitly. No ambiguity. I wanted this stranger to fuck me.



A thought, of course, is so different from the spoken word, which, in turn, is a universe away from an actual act. I simply shook my head at his sympathetic face, trying to compose myself, trying to remain more human than animal.



"You're so sad," he whispered, still holding my face.



"I just feel very alone," I sighed, wiping my tears, brushing past his warm wet hand.



"But your husband will be fine and--"



"I know. But right now I feel alone. I can't help it."



We continued staring at one another, his hand on my face, sadness all around us. The sun was almost set and the room was darkening. He turned away, looked around, saw a picture on the wall.



"Your family looks wonderful," he smiled turning back to me.



"Yes. I love them," I said softly and felt myself welling up again. I stopped it immediately, now upset with myself. Enough. This was too much. What was I doing giving off goo-goo eyes to someone I hardly knew? Grow up, you stupid woman. I slowly backed my face away from his hand. He noticed the motion, understood what it meant, and immediately pulled his hand away.



"You're going to be okay, right?" he asked a little embarrassed.



I nodded and I saw he was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I was going to tell him I was sorry, but he turned away and then back at me. He wanted to say something.



I could see him swallow. He turned away once more and spoke softly, slowly. "I don't know why I'm saying this, and please forgive me for saying it, but just now I felt this incredible attraction to you. It was almost too intense."



"I felt it, too," I replied evenly. I wanted to be honest with him. I owed him that much.



"You did?" he asked, a little surprised, turning to face me again.



"Yes."



"Sort of an odd day," he tried to rationalize.



"I know," I helped him along.



We continued looking at each other and I felt my face flushing over. He had a long, narrow nose and soft brown kind eyes.



"May I kiss you?" he asked quietly, his voice quivering, and started gently leaning forward.



Yes! I wanted to moan and throw myself into his arms, but kept silent. I was terrified what would happen if I let him kiss me.



I backed away a little and he stopped.



"I don't think that would be a good idea," I said, looking down at my lap.



"No you're right," he replied quickly and started fidgeting, getting ready to leave.



The moment had passed.



I looked up and felt bad for him as he started to rise. I reached for his hand and he stopped.



"I want to thank you for everything you've done for me," I said. "I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't been here."



He nodded politely, but his hold on my hand was tight, betraying his true feelings. I could feel him trying to resist the temptation to pull me to him.



I stood up, still holding his hand, and leaned forward on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. That would be perfectly harmless and I hoped would make him feel a little better, a fitting innocent end to a strange day. I felt my lips brush gently against his skin, the tiny stubble just barely there and as I was about to lean away he suddenly pulled me to him.



His arms were so strong, holding me, tighter than I can ever remember being held, almost knocking my breath away. He twisted his face, scraping my nose on his slight stubble and I could feel his lips searching urgently for my mouth.



The kiss was awkward, teeth clashing against teeth, but our lips crushed against each other and I could feel his body trembling when I let him open my mouth with his thick warm tongue. It was so strange feeling someone else's tongue probing and licking inside my mouth and against my teeth and lips, and then entwining almost into my throat. Larry's tongue never felt like this. I needed to breathe, needed to think, and pushed off him, gasping.



As I did, I felt one of his arms release from behind me and almost jumped when it cupped one of my breasts. I shivered at his clumsy, shaking attempts to massage me, but the excitement, the knowledge a stranger was holding me like that made me press myself even tighter against his lean body.



And then I felt it: the large hard mass in his pants pushing against my abdomen. Without thinking, I kissed him, my tongue exploring his mouth. I needed to feel him. I reached down to grab the mass pressing against me. As I reached it, held it, felt its weight in my squeezing hand, he released his mouth from mine and begun to suck and lick my throat. I pushed tighter against him, groaning into his ear as the wet, warm sensation of his tongue sent shivers all over. He brought his face up to my mouth again. My eyes were closed. I wanted to see nothing; simply feel (otherwise, I might tell him to stop) and I felt myself being edged backwards onto the couch.



It was only when his full weight gently fell on me that the realization of the moment became perfectly clear and I accepted it. As he was unbuttoning my shirt, the cool air streaking inside to my bare stomach, I stopped trembling, felt myself calming. Everything would be fine. Everything. I was no longer married, no longer a mother of two teenaged boys. None of that mattered at that moment. I was a woman with a man who wanted me.



I closed my eyes and moaned to myself, as one of his hands cupped and kneaded a naked breast, tugging it out from under my bra while the other one nervously tried to unclasp me. Throughout it all, the pressure from the lump in his pants was ever-present, pushing into me. I tried to strain forward, to feel him better against me, but it wasn't working. His lean, long body seemed so strange, unfamiliar that even the most elementary things about being with a man seemed difficult. Difficult, that is, until I let my thighs open for him and he slowly fell in between. Now things seemed to be coming together in a way that made sense. I moaned again when I felt his hard lump straining against my pussy. I'd been feeling the dampness, the warmth down there for some time, even when we'd been seated together talking, but now, all pretense aside, I could feel the wetness seeping from inside soaking through my panties trying to reach him.

<hr pg="2" />There. I leaned up to help him. My shirt and bra were off, my body chilling in its nakedness. He was groaning into my chest as his mouth began sucking and tugging, sometimes almost nipping, around one of my erect nipples. The feeling was becoming too intense, too sensitive. I pushed his face away and pulled his head to kiss him. We did so deeply, slowly, as he continued straining and twisting in between my open legs.



His hands were at the button of my jeans. He fumbled, shaking and I reached down and unbuttoned them for him.



"Get off," I said softly when I felt him trying to pull them down. He looked down at me, afraid, he'd done something wrong, his eyes begging for forgiveness.



"I'll take them off." I smiled up at him and grinned at the look of relief on his face. He got off and stood by watching me as I started pulling the jeans off. I looked at him. He was so nervous. "Take off your pants," I whispered to him. He nodded, quickly, like a little boy and began fumbling with his belt.



I heard his zipper go down as I kicked away the jeans and began peeling off my soaked underwear. I would have thought I would have been terribly embarrassed so easily revealing myself to someone other than Larry (and even with him sometimes it was embarrassing), but the motions of my arms and legs were flawless, almost seductive. I heard him moan as I tossed the panties to the ground and it excited me he was taking pleasure from the sight of my body. And I understood why I was acting the way I was. It was because this man didn't know me that I could act so differently. I could be anything I wanted because everything was new and I grit my teeth in anticipation.



I looked over and saw him naked watching me, breathing deeply through his nose. He was impressive, beautiful, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach. Everything about him looked strong and powerful, so fit and healthy. I reached out for him and he took my hand. I pulled him nearer and he gently crawled over me and then on top of me. I let his weight slowly come down and I closed my eyes at the sensation of our naked bodies touching. His face drew near and he kissed me softly, while I felt a trembling hand grip a thigh, opening me up. I let him and his narrow hips lower and they settled in between me. The hand left my thigh and I pushed my face away from him to gasp as I felt his thick warm fingers touch me. I could feel two pressing against my labia, becoming wet and spreading them wide, readying me.



Trembling, he looking down at me for approval. I nodded calmly and I felt his hips gingerly push up and the dull spongy head of his erect penis touched my spread open labia. I held my breath for a moment and then felt a dull, thick, almost burning pressure and as I let my breath out and continued waiting, the pressure increased. Suddenly the pressure seemed to give with a dramatic slip of skin against skin, I gasped, and then I bit my lower lip as I felt my body tensely open for him, starting to fill up.



He groaned and I sighed as he strained forward a little harder and his warm, thick hardness slowly worked its way up inside me. Suddenly we both gasped into each others' shoulders when I felt his pubic hair finally pressed tightly against mine. I could feel his balls dangling and then resting gently in the crack of my ass, almost tickling me. His whole body was trembling as he tried to hold himself still, his head resting on my shoulders and his warm breath was coming in quick warm gasps against my neck.



"It's so beautiful," he whispered into my ear. "So beautiful. You're so beautiful." I moaned softly in agreement. He felt wonderful inside. I could feel him pulling out, could feel myself tightly gripping his length. He held himself suspended for a moment over me, just inside me, and then he pushed down and up once more, unannounced, a little harder. "Oh," I moaned a bit surprised at the sudden feeling of the fullness of him inside.



"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously.



"No," I shook my head, sighing. "It felt wonderful."



He smiled and started gently pulling out and pushing in with long, sometimes dizzying strokes, each one a little more intense than the other. I tried to time him, tried to anticipate him and meet his shoves. Sometimes it happened, often not, but each time felt better, more complete. And then I could feel him starting to take tighter, deeper strokes and my thighs were being jerked open and closed with his quickening thrusts.



And then the familiar started. The tingling between my thighs, the sensations of my nipples, everything became heightened. He was so fit, much more in shape than I and after a few minutes I was finding it hard to catch my breath, trying to keep up with him. I wanted to tell him to slow down, to let me catch up, but it would not do it. My body was in no mood for an interruption. 



His movements inside and against me harsher, his kisses and suckling of my neck and nipples more urgent, I felt myself reaching yet a higher, and still quite familiar, lovely plateau of pleasure. I almost felt sad that we'd reached the beginning of the end, but I wanted to stay there for as long as possible, a little longer than usual, and I was hoping he would continue. And he did and I was surprised that it didn't end. He continued, with greater urgency and I couldn't stop my body or the steadily building crescendo with each of his hard thrusts. I started curling my toes tightly by his ankles. Something different was happening. I could feel it.



"I'm going to come, soon," he gasped into my mouth. "Tell me when you want me. Please."



I nodded, but not really hearing him, concentrating on a new unknown intensity building inside me. It felt like something wanted to escape from inside, like something was trapped and was desperate to get out. I couldn't identify it, what it was struggling inside. It continued, his breathing and the rhythmic creaking of the couch all I could hear, and the writhing thing trapped inside me, like some hooked trapped slapping fish, began to escape out.



"Oh. Oh. OH. OH! OH! OH! GOD! OH! OH!," I began chanting incoherently with each of his deep thrusts. This was so new. He must have heard because suddenly every stroke became like a thundering lightening strike, and my body was no longer mine. I wanted to be frightened, wanted him to stop, but nothing but my chanting came out of my throat.



"I'm coming," he groaned and then he froze, buried, molding himself into me, becoming one, and I screamed when I felt his throbbing between my thighs, his erratic pulsing at his root, and then throughout his length and into me. His orgasm, the feeling of a flood inside me, was a powerful display and a tiny rational voice was trying to tell me I should be trying really to feel this, register it, but the fish inside interrupted, suddenly, joyfully, and burst out completely. Free, for the first time in my life.



I screamed and gasped as the exotic fish inside swished through me and out in wave after wave of release. I couldn't see him anymore, could barely feel him. It wouldn't stop. I strained against him to restrain it, tried to grip and grab anything I could, but it was out, so out, twisting and grooving its way through me until, finally, its lovely tail was whipping and slapping wildly and I was screaming, convulsing, and shaking after it, desperately trying to catch it. I felt my eyes closing, everything opening and closing, and I thought I would pass out, but I didn't as each wave and slap hit me over and over.



As it subsided, as the waves became more gentle, I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. I could feel my heart racing. I kept my eyes shut for long glorious moments, feeling my body returning to me, feeling a greater strength coming back. When I opened my eyes again he was looking down at me, worry and then relief passing in an instant across his face. I wanted to laugh at the poor man. What was he thinking? But all was silent.



"Okay?" his warm breath came down to me, and I could feel the soaked heat, gently streaming out of me, still joined to him, and then settling in between my thighs.



I nodded, quietly, feeling so alive, and wrapped my arms around his broad sweating back and kissed him softly.



* * * I picked up Larry the next morning, after dropping the kids off at school. I felt better than in a long time. Larry looked a little tired, but was obviously fine. I held him tight, trying not to cry, so happy to see him, and he kissed me quickly and then released me.



"Where's the car? They have a free lot for patients. You didn't pay to park did you?" he asked a little embarrassed and looking around to make sure no one had seen us hugging. I shook my head, smiling at him, but he was already starting to walk down the hallway. "I've got to drop you off and meet with a couple of customers in two hours," he called back to me.



I stopped, amazed at the idiot, and watched him walking away. He didn't look back and I smiled after him, shaking my head once more, almost in disbelief, as I started following behind him. One of these days, Larry, you really will get a heart attack. What will I do then? 



I smiled to myself, sensitive and sore.

