Pickens escorted Tiegan into the hallway. It was blustery outside, and both were happy to be home.
"I am pleased the De Kooning exhibit is still in town." Pickens said to his former sister-in-law. "I worried you wouldn't come in time to see it."
Tiegan smiled at Pickens. She loved the way he was so old world, helping her off with her coat. Tiegan sat down and unbidden, Pickens brought her a gin and tonic.
If it had been before three p.m. he would have offered to brew a cup of tea. Mother had taught him that.
"So have you been dating much?" Tiegan asked, smiling slightly at Pickens. At forty-six, Pickens was still an attractive man, silver wings in his hair.
Tiegan had quite approved when he'd married her older sister. She worried about Pickens now, being alone.
When Bekah had been on her deathbed, she'd implored Tiegan with her last brew breaths to look after her husband.
"He needs that peculiar thing, you know, Tiegan?"
And, although Tiegan was a good twelve years younger than Pickens and Bekah, she understood.
Tiegan had dressed this morning in a white cashmere sweater that snugly cupped her generous breasts, and a tasteful but short tweed miniskirt.
Pickens of course was much too shy to comment on his late wife's sister's attire, but he did appreciate a cute girl!
Pickens wasn't sure how to respond to Tiegan's question in regards to dating, or whether it was appropriate to discuss it at all. He was a widower, and dealing with this matter had led him on a bear of a journey.
For a time, earlier this year, Pickens had been seeing a rather cheap, blowsy woman that he'd met on a site called "Harriett's Leather Life".
Goyamina had teased hair, often styled in the fashion known as the beehive, high on her head.
Although Goyamina was easily a year or two older than Pickens, she had dressed like a teenybopper, with low cut dresses, leather skirts and skintight jeans.
Sometimes Goyamina had shown up for dinner in cut-off denim shorts, the sort vulgarly referred to as "Daisy Dukes" after the heroine of the bucolic TV series of the 1980s.
She often wore these shorts with fishnet stockings and high heels, and Pickens worried that he might be arrested, being mistaken by the constabulary as her pimp instead of her boyfriend.
And, as ashamed of it as Pickens was, he was very aroused by Goyamina, and would watch her breathlessly, simultaneously excited and horrified as she calmly coated her saucy smile with bright violet lip plumper.
She did it right there at the table, instead of in the loo, like more well bred ladies!
Goyamina and Pickens had little in common-she would be far more comfortable in a bowling alley than a symphony or a Broadway show.
But, Goyamina enjoyed Pickens's generosity, and loved telling the girls at her styling salon that she was dating a radiologist.
And, what they did have in common, of course was her reaction to Pickens's advertisement on the "Harriett's Leather Life" message board--"Widowed male, mid forties, ISO dominant female who will take me over her knee to correct my many errors."
But the problem had been, although the couple had bonded so smashingly in this department, when Pickens had decided it was time to terminate the relationship, there had been a distressing snag.
He'd known he had to end it. Goyamina borrowed too much money, had a drug problem, and often embarrassed him at parties and public events with her drunken tantrums.
Once, incredibly, at a fundraiser, after Goyamina had seen him in polite conversation with an attractive Washington lobbyist, she'd strutted over to them.
"Get out of here." Goyamina had said harshly to the little blonde. Already Pickens was regretting that he'd invited her, she was wearing a shimmery metallic mini-gown..
"Pull your belt out of your pants, Pickens." Goyamina had said, eyes drilling daggers in him.
"Wh-why, you're embarrassing me--"
But his objection had been truncated when her fat hand, fingers carrying heavy metal rings had crashed across his face.
And, on that difficult evening, in front of everyone, Pickens had removed his belt and handed it to her, and then he'd watched numbly as she'd unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis, running her glittery nails up and down the shaft until he was very stiff...
Poking out of his tux pants like a Louisville Slugger!
And then, Goyamina had looped the belt and slapped it onto his dick five or six times, and how Pickens had screamed!
"You'll learn (WHACK) not to (WHACK) flirt with little whores!"
And he'd run out of the event, forgetting to put away his dancing organ as she'd chased him, waving the belt around!
And, later that night, Goyamina had taken off one of her spike heels. She'd tied Pickens to his bed and given his cock and balls a hammering he wouldn't forget...
So although this had ended up in a hot lovemaking session, Pickens knew that he had to end this weird involvement. He was losing so many friends, who found Goyamina obnoxious and tawdry.
But, when Pickens tried to tell Goyamina--in person of course, he was far too gallant to break up over e-mail--that their romantic life was over, Goyamina had an odd retaliation.
Goyamina would just butt out her lucky strike usually on Grand-mere's antique Duolton bowl (cringe). And then she'd order Pickens to take down his pants.
"Goyamina, I'm telling you this is over." Pickens would try hard to be firm with Goyamina, after all, once he'd been an Air Force lieutenant-- but she'd reach into her purse and yank out her Ping-Pong paddle and tap her long magenta nails against it, regarding him severely.
"Pull 'em down, Pickens. If youse wants to break up after yer spankin' we'll tawk about it. Now for every second you delay it, I'm countin, and addin' five whacks!"
And the problem was, Pickens was helpless under such entreaties. He was intensely attracted to Goyamina, her cleavage bouncing in the striped tube top.
Seeing the paddle in her hands of course, Pickens would end up undoing his fly and his lip trembling, bending across her fishnetted knees as Goyamina yanked down his undies as well.
Sometime between seventeen and forty whacks later, Pickens would be sent to recuperate in the corner.
Staring at the unforgiving wall, with his trousers still clogging his ankles, bright red and blistered buttocks on humiliating display.
And his cock so very hard!
It was so embarrassing. Then, after half an hour of standing there, while Goyamina played with her phone or watched "Project Runway" she'd summon him.
"Come back and give Goyamina some sugar. I forgive you, bad boy."
And Pickens would sit in Goyamina's lap. By now he'd lost his pants completely, and she'd play with his stiff schlong and he'd cry in her neck.
"There you go, honey. Why you wanna piss me off like that, tawkin' about breakin' up with your Goyamina who loves you. Be a good boy and I'll pull down my top and you can suck my titties. Beg me to let you."
