I havenât written anything in months because my life has been pretty dull. My former girlfriend went to a trade school 1500 miles away and our long distance relationship is now more distance than relationship. That has actually worked to my advantage, though. It allowed me more time to devote to a childhood crush: my âAuntâ Louise. Sheâs not my aunt, but weâve called her that forever. Sheâs been friends with my mom for years. Louise turned 52 in December and still looks pretty decent for her age. Sheâs always been fighting the âBattle of the Bulgeâ but she hasnât lost the war.
Louise heard about my occasional massage of my mothers neck or feet but never seemed the slightest bit interested. I also heard her say once that Joe, her hot-tempered Italian husband, would âkill her and probably him, tooâ if another man ever touched her. She actually jumped up and ran when I touched her neck once, and that was right in front of my mother.
I guess Louise got tired of living with Joe the lout, so she moved back home to begin a trial separation. Home, (her aging motherâs basement) needed some work and a fair amount of paint to make it habitable, and thatâs where I came in. I turned some of my own work over to a partner and spent a good part of two weeks helping to fix up Louisâs new place at the princely sum of $15 an hour. Of course even at that price I didnât bill her for all my hours, but still, it was something.
Louise and I grew closer to each other each week I worked. After she moved in weâd share a beer or coffee late in the day. Talk inevitably turned to relationships, because Louise was worried about dating again if she and Joe didnât work things out. The more she got out from under his thumb, the more she enjoyed life and the more remote became the chances for a reconciliation. One night I stayed for spaghetti, taking a shower in the new fiberglass bathroom shower Iâd helped install with a plumber acquaintance. We dallied on the sofa after dinner a little, which was nice, but nothing happened besides talk. Another dinner followed a few nights later, this time with wine. When we cleaned up and sat on the sofa it was very comfortable, and our talk turned a little flirtatious. After some more wine and laughs Louise wiggled her feet and asked for a sample of the âDivineâ massages sheâd heard I gave. So I massaged her feet. After five minutes of comments about how ugly various parts of her feet were, she relaxed a little. After another five minutes of massaging her sole and toes she announced our engagement, wondering aloud what it would be like to be married to a man who did nice things for his wife now and then.
That was it for a week or so, then I came back on a Sunday afternoon to do some more work and a favor for her grandmother. We had dinner in Grandmotherâs dining room, but later came down to Louiseâs for coffee and Baileys. Gramm, an early riser it seems, usually went to bed after the weekend Wheel of Fortune or whatever game show aired. Downstairs, we sipped some Baileyâs, talked some more and I found out that Louise had chickened out instead of going to a nightclub with some friends the night before. My jaw dropped in surprise and I asked why. Louise blamed it on memories of rejection, not wanting to run into Joe, fear of the dating âsceneâ. We talked about this for a while, and in the process I grabbed Louiseâs feet and began another massage. She got into it sooner, then I suggested she sit on the floor and lean against the sofa while I massaged her head and neck. She was wearing a turtleneck, which made it more difficult to massage her neck, so I concentrated more on shoulders and head. She loved it. I, on the other hand, loved the âmmm-mmmmmsâ coming from her, but it all stopped abruptly and she grabbed a blanket to cover herself. It wasnât that hot out, so I asked her why the blanket. Louise became embarrassed and wouldnât explain, but hugged the blanket to herself tightly and turned on the TV.
It was her nipples. She had been enjoying herself so much her nipples were becoming erect, which embarrassed her. I laughed and teased her in the voice of an old fashioned radio/tv voice.
âHave upright nipples ruined you day? Cost you job promotions? Made you an outcast at the country club?.â
Louise laughed and covered her face. I continued with some other lame attempts at humor.
âItâs shocking! Louise actually has nipples! Imagine such a thing in our neighborhood. Why that harlot!
That..tart.â
Louise slapped my leg, which only made me want to tease her more and use the word ânippleâ as often as I could.
âOnly 55 degrees out there today, so keep those nipples coveredâ. âStay away from the frozen food section folks, itâs very chilly there and we are seeing lots and lots of nipplesâ.
We giggled and carried on for a several minutes. Louise said sheâd never talked about nipples with another man in her life, except to tell Joe not to--. She stopped.
âI canât believe Iâm discussing nipples with my nephew!â
I asked if that was bad. She didnât answer for a long time.
âI donât know. Itâs good, itâs bad, itâsâŠdifferent.â
I left soon after, but returned Thursday night with a faucet part and enjoyed another dinner. We talked more and enjoyed each other all over. When we ended up on the couch again, Louise put her feet in my lap and showed off a new manicure. I massaged her feet for a while and then offered another neck and shoulder massage, but Louise said ânoâ.
âNipple fear?â I asked.
She wouldnât say. I kept asking but she wouldnât respond, until finally I picked her up and put her on the floor by the couch. I must say that action had some very sexy implications, and I got hard almost immediately.
Louise did too. She reached for the blanket, but I pulled it away in the nick of time and began massaging her shoulders. I took my time and enjoyed Louiseâs quiet murmurs--and the sight of her nipples poking up. One of her hands absently began a caress of my foot, so Louise removed my shoe and sock and began rubbing my foot. That was sexy, but what she said next was even sexier.
âIâve always had sensitive nipples. Iâve had to hide them ever since I was a girl.â
I couldnât think of anything to say in response, so I said nothing.
âHeavy bras⊠Not the most comfortable.â
âAre you wearing an uncomfortable one now?â I asked.
No response. I asked again.
âI only have one kind, Nick.â
âTake it off. Live a littleâ I suggested, but just for her comfort. Well, maybe not.
She didnât. What she did do was talk for the next 20 minutes or so about what was appropriate conduct between us. She asked if we werenât pushing the bounds a little.
âBras..nipplesâŠwhatâs next?â
âOral sex?â I suggested.
Louise gasped, her jaw dropped and she looked at me with the biggest eyes.
âThat is definitely crossing the line, young man. You are grounded.â She slapped my leg again.
I said I was just joking and had been trying to shock her.â
âMen!â. Louise shook her head in mock disgust.
âDonât you like oral sex?â I asked innocently.
âThatâs it! Enough sex talk for one nightâ. She rose and led me to the door. Instead of the usual cheek kiss, all I got was a wave. I guess I crossed the line.
I called once to apologize, but didnât hear back for two weeks. When she called everything seemed back to normal. In fact, Louise kind of asked me out. She wanted me to be her escort while she checked out a couple of places that had dancing. I asked why she didnât go with girlfriends. She said something about my being âprotectionâ. It didnât seem that logical to me, but I wanted to be back in her good graces, so I said yes.
That Saturday night I picked Louise up at 8. She looked great in just a pair of plain black skirt and a silvery-gray sweater. I told her so, which she seemed to appreciate. We barely had time to have a drink and adjust our eyes at the first spot before Louise announced that she was ready to move on. Ditto the second place, but like Goldilocks, the third place seemed okay. We actually got to finish our drink and liked the band. I asked Louise to dance at one point, but she declined. âToo nervousâ. We left after our second drink. I didnât see much point in sticking around. Neither did Louise.
Out of the public eye and back âhomeâ, Louise became downright flirtatious. Alcohol had a little something (or a LOT) to do with that. We both used the bathroom, then Louise grabbed a blanket and said âLetâs cuddle on the couchâ. So we did. Louise turned out most of the lights, then sat on the floor and purred in anticipation when I settled in behind her on the couch. I started my usual neck and shoulders routine, then paused for a half second. Louise had taken her bra off in the bathroom. I pretended not to notice, but my mind was racing. What did it mean? Should I mention it?
Helped by the alcohol. Louise was becoming more vocal by the minute. She was really getting into my massage with lots of âMmmmmsâ and âThatâs soooo niceâ punctuated by little âunnnnphâ sounds. I asked her to sit in front of me on the couch so I could pay more attention to her back and she agreed. Of course what I really wanted was to get my hands up beneath her sweater. What guy hasnât schemed in the same way?
I covered my moves with some chit chat about how I missed her. Louise said she had missed me and thought about me many times.
âThought about me many timesâŠ.So you masturbated thinking about me?â
Louise protested loudly and tried to move, but I held her tight.
âYouâre trying to shock me againâŠTrying to shock an old lady.â