Grace Saves Henry Ch 01

It's not fair! Not fair at all. Life isn't supposed to be so hard!

She knows she is young; just 20. But she thought she was finally on the right track when she was hired as an administrative assistant for this prominent engineering firm. She had been working there for a year and had recently been given her first performance review... and got a substantial raise. They loved her!

Work was going well. So was her personal life, or so she thought. Her boyfriend Stephen had asked her to move in six months ago; their sex life was pretty good, and she would finally start paying down her student loan debt. Fuck. She went to college for one and a half lousy semesters before she realized what she really want to do, and stopped going. Student debt didn't go away simply because she wanted it to.

She was pretty, medium height (at least she thought it was medium, at five feet four inches tall). Slim, except for her 34D boobs, with long deep red hair and a few freckles that turned heads. She had skin that would never tan, but that hadn't seemed to be a hindrance to attracting men. She weighed 105, and as long as she kept rather active, could eat pretty much whatever she wanted. That was a good thing, because fattening fast food was a lot cheaper than healthy food.

She dressed less than conservatively, but not really wanting to emphasize any body parts. Still, her clothing hugged her figure, her skirts were a bit too short. Engineering firms typically contained an overabundance of male employees, and several of them would walk a little farther than necessary in order to pass her desk on their way to meetings or the break room. Even managers had been known to take the long way.

In her small work group, consisting of one manager and ten engineers, they all discovered that if she volunteered to do a little extra work, it would be completed in record time, with zero errors. Documentation was her specialty, and her engineers realized that their specifications and other documents would be received with praise if they first had her proofread them. Even the complicated metallurgical reports.

Most of the time she worked quickly and with a cheerful attitude. Even the arduous task of seeing to it that their hours spent on projects, which were how the clients were charged, were correct and submitted on time, was happily handled by her diligent, incessant prodding. Her group was one of the few pointed out as an example for others.

None of that cheerful attitude was apparent right now. During lunch she received a text message from Stephen. It was short and to the point:

You have until 6:00 p.m. to come and remove all of your belongings from here. After that they will be thrown in the dumpster. At 7:00 p.m. my new girlfriend Belinda will be moving in.

She couldn't concentrate. All she could do was wonder how many of her things she could save before he trashed them all. Why would he do this? Has he always been this narcissistic? What a coward, not even face to face. Well, shit.

Finally her manager Perry Cameron noticed something was off. She was away from her desk when he came to retrieve something and saw the text message on her phone. He had to do something to try to help her. He thought of one thing.

When she came back to her desk, Mr. Cameron said to her, "Grace, please do me a favor. Henry has gone out to lunch but has not come back. Please go outside to see if his truck is still here. If you see him, please talk to him."

"All right. What about?"

"Anything. I think he needs an ear right now. Someone to listen to him."

And so do you.

She grabbed her phone, put it in her purse and went to find Henry. One of their finest engineers.

She knew the general area where he usually parked, so she walked cautiously to that section of the parking lot. There was Henry's older blue Ford pickup, and leaning against the back tailgate was Henry. She recognized his tall, lanky body, his dark full beard, and the flannel shirt he wore. His eyes were closed. He was breathing erratically. Something must be wrong. Actually, he looked the way she felt. Terrible. She hoped she could help him.

At least one of us might be saved

, she thought.

"Hey, Henry."

His eyes opened. He smiled. That's what most everyone did when they saw her. They told her she was easy on the eyes, nice, pleasant to talk to, and a good worker. This time, though, his smile was forced.

"Hi Grace, are you leaving early today?"

"I'm not supposed to, but I should." She was worried. "What about you? TGIF hit you pretty hard today?"

She looked him over. She knew he was 38. Old enough to be her father, really. At six feet tall, with a nice build, not super muscled, and he had dark brown hair that needed cutting. To her he always looked like a lumberjack, because that dark brown beard shaped his face nicely. It was about four inches long, and she always wanted to touch it, but never had. His voice was melodious. It was pleasant to hear him speak.

He sighed. "Some days stuff just hits pretty hard. Today is one of those days."

"I hear you. I got hit with a whopper myself today. Sorry to hear you did, too."

"Anything I can help with?"

She looked at him and wondered if he could help. He had always been one of the friendlier engineers, so she decided to open up.

"Only if you know where I can stay the night. I just got kicked out."

"What about your boyfriend? Steve, isn't it? Can't he help?"

She gave a harsh laugh. "He's the one who did the kicking. With a text message, no less. I have until six tonight to gather all my stuff and go... somewhere."

"Well, shit, that really sucks. What happens after six?"

"Apparently his new girlfriend moves in. I'm still in shock. The message appeared about fifteen minutes ago. I don't know what I'm going to do. Yesterday I was on top of the world, ready to tell him I got a nice raise. I guess I should be glad tomorrow's not a workday. How about you? Can I help you somehow with your problem?"

He chuckled. "Aren't we a pair? I wish you could, Grace, but no one can except God."

"Henry, that sounds pretty bad. Can you tell me about it? Maybe talking would help. What about Doreen? Can you talk it over with her?"

"My wife? It would be great to talk with her. But you see, that's the problem. She's been in the hospital for two and a half years, in a coma. From an auto accident."

"Oh my gosh, I had no idea. You hide it well. Can't the doctors do anything?"

"They all say all we can do is wait. They suggested taking her off life support, but I can't do that. I... don't have the strength to let her go."

She gave Henry a big hug. "My problem seems very small compared to yours. I'm so sorry."

"I could help you with yours though. Here's my truck. Why don't we go get your stuff?"

"That's very thoughtful, but then you'd have all my stuff in your truck. And I don't know yet where I'm even spending the night. Probably here, in my car."

"That'll never do. Until Doreen wakes up, I live alone. I have an extra room. You can stay at my place tonight. Unless you think it wouldn't look right."

"Would you really do that for me? Henry, I don't want to be a burden. Maybe I'll drive to my sister's house in Los Angeles. Maybe I'll just quit."

"But Grace, you love your job. We've talked about that often enough. It would be no burden. In fact, it would be nice to talk to someone for a change. Not as a co-worker. You know?"

She nodded. She knew.

"But what about work?"

Henry shrugged. "Not like I was getting anything done today."

So she thanked him. He opened the door and helped her into the truck. They drove to her now-former boyfriend's home, backed into the driveway, and got out.

"His car is gone, so hopefully that means he is, too."

The house was empty of people. None of the furniture was hers, so that helped.

"Everything in this closet is mine. Let's start there."

"No, I can do the whole closet. You go around the house and pick out your stuff, like music, movies, books, things that always get overlooked."

She liked that idea. She would have left a lot of music. And she has linens, and a few towels. Bathroom stuff. Stephen even used some of her things. She hoped he would miss them, thinking she would never remember to get them all. She went to the kitchen. Most of the knives were hers. Good ones, too. The rice cooker. The instant pot. Even the microwave was hers. He used that every day.

"Grace? What about the TV?"

"The one in Stephen's room is mine. I usually slept in there." Of course she did. Why else would he have asked her to move in? Henry started unplugging the TV, and bundling up the cables. She started to empty the dresser of all her clothes there. Putting one set of jeans and a tee in a backpack for tomorrow. Back in the kitchen, she looked in the pantry for expensive food items. Yes! The container of protein powder. Oh, the blender. That Vitamix cost her a bundle.

Henry was a good packer. That was a good thing, because she had more things than she remembered. It was fortuitous that Henry had a cover for his truck bed.

"What about art, mirrors, any stuff on walls? Vacuum, Roomba?"

"Nope. I always wanted to buy a Roomba, but money got tight."

They went to every room, her pointing out what is hers, he taking it down. The house started to look very unlived in. Electronics? No, that was all Stephen. Computers? She no longer had a desktop PC, but she did have a laptop and a tablet.

"What's in the garage?" Her roller skates, golf clubs, pruning shears (they're Japanese... very sharp!). A box of her mother's china. Two more boxes of her books. She liked to read.

"Back yard?" Her Bliss lounger chair and BBQ canopy.

The more she pointed to and he packed in the truck, the more he learned about her. She was starting to fascinate him. She was always interesting, but at work they didn't talk much about personal stuff.

"That's all that will fit, Grace. Should we come back for more?"

"No, I think he's going to be mighty surprised as it is, about all that I've taken. The grill out back is mine, but it's old and he can have it. It's probably a mess anyway, because he grills but never cleans it. And if he squawks and insists that I took something of his, I have a folder, on my laptop, of all the receipts. I've kept them all."

Henry laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. He probably hasn't done it much. "You know, Grace, it seems that you're well rid of him. All the nice stuff was yours, except for some of the furniture."

"Which was all hand-me-downs from his parents." She still seemed quite thoughtful. "I still have to find a permanent place to stay. Hopefully this weekend it will work out. Can you keep most of this in your truck overnight?"

"Sure. I'll drop you off for your car, and then you can follow me home. It takes about 20 minutes."

She wanted to say something profound, to express her gratitude, but when she looked at him all she did was start to cry. "I'll never forget this, Henry."

All Henry could think was that, at least he could help someone, instead of think of his bleak future, and wonder when Doreen would wake up. He liked Grace. A lot.

If I wasn't married... maybe she would... no, that wouldn't be right.

But his cock had other ideas.

While driving Henry thought of all the different things he had helped her pack. Roller skates. He smiled as he imagined her skating places. Golf clubs.

I haven't played golf for three years. I still have mine... All those paintings we took off the walls. I didn't get a good look at them, but some of them seemed rather erotic. Something a man would buy. But she said they were hers. She put a few things in the truck she wouldn't let me see, either. She's only 20, Henry, what are you thinking?

But he made a decision.

She needs help, and I have room.

He'll wait until they they both pull up to his house and go inside.

"Henry, how often do you go to the hospital?"

"At first it was every day, after work. And longer on the weekends. That lasted a whole year. Then it was every other day. For about six months. It was really hard because she was in ICU the whole time. She still is. But now I go once a week. They call from time to time, asking me questions, making sure it's still what I want. I usually go... well, on Friday evenings. Right about now."

"Once we get to your house, don't let me stop you. You can take my car to the hospital. If you don't mind me making myself at home while you do."

"Nah, I'll give them a call and tell them I'll come tomorrow instead. That happens once in a while. I'll call Perry, too, and tell him something."

"You don't need to do that. I already sent Mr. Cameron a text message that you are helping me out of a jam. He even replied that it was okay. Does he know about Doreen?"

"Yes. I can tell sometimes he worries about me. So far, though, I've never let it interfere with my work. Except today. Maybe it's getting worse, I don't know."

The parking lot was almost empty. He let her out and waited for her to get settled, start the car, and pull out and get behind him.

He admired her driving. She didn't follow too closely, and she used her blinker like a good driver should. If someone got between them she didn't panic.

Meanwhile, Grace had some hard thinking to do.

To be married, yet essentially not married at the same time. How does he manage? Does he miss the sex? Don't be daft, of course he does. Just like I will. That's really the only thing Stephen and I had going for us. I hope he misses me, a lot. Such a jackass. Oh, we're here. Gee, what a nice house. I wonder if this was supposed to be their forever home.

Henry was motioning to pull into the driveway, next to his truck. He opened her door for her. The garage door was open now. "A very neat garage. Just like an engineer," she teased him.

He smiled. "Says the woman who saves every receipt," he teased back. "Come on in, let me show you around."

He spoke like a realtor. "Four bedrooms two and a half baths, typical two-story ranch style, the kitchen upgraded, a wall removed to make it more open. Oh, a den right here that I call my office. Upstairs, this is the guest room, you can use it. Down this hall are two more, then the bathroom. At the end is the master. Want to see it?"

"Sure. Was this your forever home?"

"It was a possibility. But not a retirement home. We already planned that come retirement, we wanted to move closer to the ocean."

"Hey, who doesn't? The ocean is there to recharge everyone!"

"Here's the typical master. King size bed. Doreen wanted a canopy but I insisted no canopy. I got my dream bathroom, too. Walk in shower, separate tub. And two sinks. No more crowding in the mornings, getting ready for work."

He looked bereft as he stared at the two sinks, one full of towels and washcloths, no longer needed by Doreen.

"Grace, I've been thinking. You can move in, permanently if you want. Until such time as Doreen comes back home."

"Henry, thank you! You have a heart of gold." She hugged him, and looked up at him.

Those beautiful aqua eyes.

He couldn't resist. He kissed her. She didn't pull away. If anything, she hugged him tighter. The kiss continued. Finally the kiss ended, but the embrace felt good. Neither one wanted it to end.

"Grace," he started, "it... it's been a long time...."

"I understand. Don't worry. It's like riding a bicycle... so I'm told."

"So you... so young... would... an old man like me..."

She put two fingers to his mouth to quiet him. She didn't remove them. He parted his lips and she slipped them into his mouth. He sighed with relief, swirled his tongue around those two fingers as he marveled at the sensation that rocked through him.

She told him, "You're not so old... and I wouldn't care if you were. I've had a few nice dreams starring you."

Henry picked Grace up and walked with her to his bedroom--his bed, and gently set her down. Her fingers left his mouth and started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His fingers shook as he pulled her top up and off. Her bra, a common white bra, thrilled him. It represented two and one half years of need and want. "Oh, I want," he murmured as his hands stole around her and unclasped the hooks. Her arms slipped free of the straps and he pulled the bra away and dropped it on the floor.

The sight of her naked breasts brought a new rush of blood to his cock. "Beautiful," he whispered to her as his fingers stroked a silky smooth breast. He leaned down to capture one of those light pink nipples between his teeth. She arched and moaned, a sound he'd never before heard from her, and decided he needed to hear it frequently from now on.

They hurriedly removed the rest of their clothes.

"Henry...Henry... fuck me, please, Henry!"

Missionary never felt so good, as he slid his cock in and bottomed out. He wasted no time and started thrusting hard, they were so hot for each other that it was going to be a close finish.

He was trying to control himself. But he wanted to pound her, hard, wanting to make her cum first, but he didn't know if he could last... then as if by magic he heard her shriek as she came, uttering sweet little grunts in quick succession until at last he froze and jetted into her, and kept coming until finally, he was empty, she was gasping, and they looked into each other's eyes and grinned.

"That was magnificent," She whispered. "Have you been practicing?"

He chuckled, her humor was just what he needed. "Nah," he answered, "you'll know when I've been practicing... you won't be able to speak at all."

"Does that mean I can still stay... and be your little fuck toy?" She hoped his answer was yes.

He nodded. "I'm done being a martyr. I'm pretty sure I want to live. What you saw earlier today was me, at my truck, deciding to end it. You saved my life, girl."

"And you saved mine. Stephen never fucked me like that. You are my mountain man. I don't want my own bed. I want to share yours. If that's okay with you. To think that earlier today I assumed I'd be sleeping in my car. I'll try to find another place as quickly as possible."

"You don't have to hurry. Really. We'd... uh... better get your stuff moved in. Mostly just to the garage for now, okay?"

As she helped unload the truck, he started putting things neatly on shelves in the garage. "Grace, can I ask about your artwork?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Well, a few of them are rather... unusual for a woman to buy. Very erotic. Did you buy them?"

"Those three... the ones you call erotic... were gifts. I used to model for an artist. You know, nude modeling. After a while we became rather close. You see the back of that woman there... that's me. Actually it's me in all three of them. There are stories attached to all my paintings. If we put them on your walls, I'll tell you their stories. Okay?"

"Okay. You're an interesting woman, Grace. I'll bet you have a lot of stories to tell."

"You have no idea, Henry, just how interesting some of them are."

To be continued.