This is the second story about Jen and Dexter, and while this short story should stand alone, you can read about the start of their relationship in "The unexpected start of love". There are neither minors nor miners in this story.
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"Ok, yes, I sniffed her panties and I liked it. Sue me." - Dexter
--
The Pennsylvania winter was cold; one of the coldest years the great Commonwealth had endured in its long history. Dexter sat at the kitchen table getting his landscaping company caught up for next spring when the work would start again. With Jen out of town and winter slowing his business to the occasional snow plowing, it was much too quiet for Dexter. Even the dog was sedate, curled up in front of a heating vent with her nose tucked under her back leg, a hairy sable donut. His text alert sounded - the voice of an angry man saying "You got a text, mutha fucka" - and he looked at Jen's note.
Don't whack off. I'll be home tonight around 7
. It was followed by an emoji of an eggplant and three water droplets.
Dexter smiled at that and responded,
You're so romantic. But I haven't whacked off since you left on Monday. The deal was no -
Dexter inserted the closed fist and eggplant emoji -
while you were gone
.
Jen texted him an emoji of a hand with the first two fingers extended and the text
You're better than me!
and then the shoulder shrug emoji.
That deal was for both of us,
Dexter wrote
, Now I'm going to have to tease you until you beg me to let you finish. That was the deal.
Dexter thought for a few seconds before he finished the message. It was always so easy to misconstrue intentions by text and he was afraid this one could come off the wrong way. What was funny to him was often not funny to anyone else. He smiled as he thought, 'Ah, the pain of being immersed in a sea of mediocrity.' He finished the text.
2 mins for every hour until you get home. It's 2 pm
.
I think I might like that
, she teased back,
Love you and see you soon!
--
The airliner's public address crackled to life. "Good afternoon ladies and gentleman. You are very welcome to Princess Air flight 3601 to Harrisburg...," Jen stopped paying attention and glanced around the cabin. Nearly empty. The closest passenger to her was an older man a few rows behind her and across the aisle. Good looking, not amazing. Clean shaven, casually well dressed in a cardigan sweater and khakis. The kind of outfit that said hard-earned and unassuming wealth. His hair was brown with a bit of salt and pepper, still thick and wavy. Her eyes traveled from feet to crown as she assessed his body. 'Solid physique' Jen thought, 'All in all, a good effort.' The passenger reminded her of Dexter, a look of resilience about him. Dexter, survivor of an abusive and neglectful childhood that left him with scars both physical and invisible, complex post-traumatic stress disorder, attachment disorders, and while he was so strong to outside world, she held his fragility so lovingly and carefully. His traumas had left him with more empathy and compassion than any person she had ever known. Until him, she hadn't understood how much she yearned for that connection. Even when he retreated from her and cut himself off from everything when shame and self-hatred swamped him, she felt close. There was no other place she could be. Her perfect man. His perfect woman. Their physical relationship was an important part of their feelings of security; that bridge between them was always there and could almost always repair the emotional connection. And, she thought, sex like theirs was something she used to think of as the fanciful musings of online erotica.
The thought of what was waiting for her at home swept in and traveled down to leave her lady garden damp and tingling. Her hands squeezed her legs just above the knees in an effort to divert her attention. Jen looked up just as the safety instructions ended, "...We anticipate a 2 hour and 17 minute flight. Thank you for your attention and we wish you all pleasant travels."
Jen watched as the flight attendant strolled down the aisle, checking that the few passengers had raised their seat-backs to the full and upright position, ensuring they would survive a crash. 'Jesus,' Jen thought, 'How did I not notice her earlier?' Crimson hair, full of small curls flowing past her shoulders, full lips framed by small creases just off each corner that gave her a mischievously sexy look. Something about her looked familiar, like a celebrity doppelganger, the identity flirting with the front of her mind. "Bernadette Peters!" she said rather loudly.
The flight attendant was just passing Jen and turned with a warm smile. "I get that a lot, but thank you for the compliment!" she said.