Today.
It was the butterfly's fault. That's what Donna kept thinking as her lover brought her to orgasm. Bert had been working her towards the finish line for a few minutes now. He was skillful and methodical, pushing her buttons, nudging her higher and higher. Donna pulled against the restraints, happy to have something to strain against. She could have pulled free of the restraints if she really wanted to. They were only silk scarves, and she was the one who tied them in place earlier. The ties allowed her to enjoy the experience much more thoroughly than she otherwise could have.
Ordinarily she would never have done these things. She was a good girl and thought herself quite vanilla; if she understood the term correctly. Donna had spent most of her life following the rules, doing what society expected of her, and always feeling less happy than she wanted. She wanted to be happier, but didn't know how to make it happen. She didn't even know what true happiness looked like. It was hard to want something you had never seen before. She didn't feel comfortable speaking up for herself, and never spoke about the hole in her heart.
Donna was a fierce advocate for her friends. She could shower them with encouragement and be the cheerleader they needed. She helped many others achieve their own goals. While her own desires sat on a shelf and collected dust. She had lots of friends, even some good friends: but she didn't have that one friend you shared the deep stuff with. Donna wasn't even sure how other people managed to say the deep scary words without dying of embarrassment.
The orgasm rolled up on her like a heavy rain cloud pushed by the wind. Slow, patient, and timeless. Donna tightened her grip and arched her body towards him, towards the sensation. That was very bold of her, she thought to herself. She just needed a little bit more. There was a tie around her neck that was pulled, forcing her head to tilt backwards. The tie scared her. It made her feel like he was in control of her. She hated everything about that tie; even when the pull of it made her cum. Her breathing hitched twice as her body exploded. Pleasure washed over her body like a warm summer rain. She cried out as her body tried to shake itself apart. Donna shattered, cried, and was washed away by her ecstasy.
This is joy, her body said, twisting like a cat in a sweater.
This is love her heart said, as endorphins flooded her system.
"I love you Donna," he whispered, still inside her, hot and hard.
This is happiness she thought, hearing his words. This is the man she wanted. They were doing the things she wanted; and he was saying the things she wanted him to say. Yes, this was real happiness.
Fifteen Days Ago.
The rain had always made Donna worry. Her house was perched on the hillside of the canyon, a hundred feet above the river. The view was spectacular, and she knew she was lucky to have it. The house was not much to look at from the front, but Donna lived in the back half. The back door opened onto a deck that ran the length of the house. Eight feet wide and forty feet long; it offered stunning views of the canyon and river below. In the summer she would spend her free time out soaking it all in. Leaning on the railing, or relaxing in a deck chair, it didn't matter. She kept an old pair of binoculars by the door to help see the hawks and eagles better. They often put on a show just for her.
The house was old, but standing strong against the elements. It had not started sliding down the hill yet, but the thought was always in the back of her mind. She lived in a place where it rained for half of the year, and threatened to rain for the other half. The deck was not holding up as well.
The main part of the deck was over fifteen years old, held together by paint and moss. The rest of the deck was piecemeal, with additions here and there over the years. Overall, the deck looked much more weekend warrior than structural engineer. Different heights, different boards, different design. Why couldn't they just match the original design she often thought. The rain always made her worry. Every time it rained, Donna thought about the deck getting wetter and weaker. She didn't know the names of all the deck parts, but she knew the older wood was losing the battle with time. Some spots creaked with age, and some were spongier than others. She had been hoping for years the deck would last one more year. So far, for the last few years, the deck had been listening to her.
The butterfly had landed on the railing to bask in the morning sunlight. It was opening and closing its wings, drying them, angling towards the sun for warmth. It was a Painted Lady Butterfly, recognizable by its distinctive markings. The wings were orange and brown, with a white bar on the leading edge. Donna saw it through the window and grabbed her camera before walking outside. She didn't need another picture of a butterfly, she already had hundreds. Still, they called her. Each one was magnificent with its distinctive size, shape, and colors.
Donna took pictures while moving closer. As long as she was slow and quiet, the butterfly would probably not flee. She got some good pictures up close, before moving backwards to try some artsy photos. She wanted to get the far hillside blurred out in the background. As Donna stepped back, a deck board creaked under foot. This was one of the known weak spots and she noted the groan of protest. As she leaned back to take another picture, the wood made a different sound. One single deep crack. A lone fiber of wood had given up somewhere in the middle, and snapped with an audible pop. Donna quickly stepped off the board but no other sounds were forthcoming. She put her foot back on the spot and tested it, putting all her weight on it. It was soft, but still usable, for now. The sound announced to her that the time had come, and the deck needed replacing. This was one more thing she didn't want to deal with, but had to. Donna had a list of things she didn't have the time for. She had another list for things she didn't have the money for. There was a third list of things she didn't have the energy for. Some projects fit in one category, and some spilled over into two. A new deck? That would land in all three. Donna went back inside and sat in the chair near the window. She looked at the deck, and then looked at the railing.
"Damm butterfly," she said.
Donna could only think of one person who could help her with the deck. She had worked with Bert years ago, and he was a handyman on the side. They used to be good friends, but had drifted apart when Donna took another job. They had flirted outrageously for a time and came dangerously close to falling in love. They decided to cool things off by mutual agreement before anyone got hurt. Things were more complicated back then as both of them had other attachments. Both admitted to having feelings for each other, but the timing wasn't right. Time and distance had softened the edges of those old sharp feelings.
Donna texted Bert, asking if he still built decks. He did. They made plans for him to stop by the following day. He would look at the project, take measurements, talk about her options, and give her an estimate for the labor and materials.
The text exchange was innocuous, and Donna wasn't sure what to think of that. All their past exchanges had been flirty, and full of innuendo. Bert had a knack for it, and left Donna tied up in knots with his words. It had been a while since they spoke, so she chalked it up to that. Donna had spent years telling herself that all those feelings were in the past. She was over it; and obviously he was over it. In a small way she was relieved they were both on the same page.
The jitters the following day told Donna that she might not be completely over it. She was more nervous than she wanted to admit. She was looking forward to seeing Bert, and she really did need to get the deck repaired. On the other hand, this meeting felt different from all previous ones. This would be at her home, and the two of them would be alone. Donna kept telling herself she was acting like a silly schoolgirl, but still went through half a dozen outfits before she found one she was happy with. In the last hour before his arrival, Donna kept looking for things to straighten. She checked and rechecked her appearance, and then scolded herself for doing so. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. When he knocked on the door, she broke out in gooseflesh before she opened it. Why was it suddenly so hot inside?
"Hey beautiful," Bert said by way of greeting.
Donna blushed and welcomed him inside. He used to call her that all the time, although she never believed it was true. Donna was practical about her own looks. She thought she was cute but not pretty. She was pleasant, but not beautiful. That being said, she sure liked the way it made her feel when he said it.
Donna jumped right into the project and nervously talked about the deck. She covered the age, the rain, the saggy parts, and the cracking sound from yesterday. They moved outback while Bert took measurements, and checked random boards. He also looked at the posts and railing before walking down the hill to examine the underside. He talked to her while he explored, explaining what he was looking at or looking for. Below the deck boards were the 2x6 joists. Below the joists were the 4x6 beams. The beams were held up by 4x4 support posts, set in concrete footings dug into the hillside.
Each later was different, designed to hold the weight above it. Bert came back up onto the deck and spent a few minutes making notes for his estimate. Donna didn't talk while he wrote, giving him time to get all the information down on paper. It gave her time to look at him and she was happy with what she saw.
He was older of course, but she loved how he looked. His blue eyes were just as piercing, and still intimidated the hell out of her. He had strong hands from a lifetime of using them. Her eyes lingered on his hands and she remembered how they felt on her skin. Strong, warm, and confident. She felt safe wrapped up in those arms. His lips used to drive her crazy. When Donna looked up at his face, he was done writing and staring back at her.
Heat rushed through her and she knew her cheeks betrayed her thoughts and feelings. She tried to avoid his eyes.
"What?" she asked.
"Every time I see you, you get more beautiful."
