Pure fiction. My thanks to my editor Wicked Inside.
*****
As the bus jerked to a start, Julie swung into an empty seat and dropped her full daypack beside her. The ride would not be long, and it had been a hectic morning making sure she had done enough to take an extended lunch. She mentally ran through each task still not finished, noting what remained, then letting go of it as she breathed out a deep breath through pursed lips. This little ceremony allowed her to recall things later, but forget them for now. Soon, only the anticipation of Gerry was left to fill her mind, and tickle her bottom.
Gerry was her present lover, only the fourth lover she had had in her 25 years. (OK, fifth, but that one shouldn't count!) He was ten years her senior, a second line manager at a, to hear him tell it, chronically under-staffed and under-funded high-tech firm. From what she could tell, that was normal for that industry.
Julie had ceased believing that each new relationship would be "it" after being unceremoniously dumped by her first lover, and then having to get rid of her second when he turned abusive. She had also realized how different a person she was in each relationship. By now she was consciously choosing her relationship persona, trying out different styles, finding what worked for her and what didn't. She had tried several with her last lover, keeping him bemused and interested longer than might otherwise have been the case.
From the beginning of this relationship, it had had all the earmarks of a do-it-yourself project, as in "if you want it done right, do it yourself." When she wanted a weekend in a cabin in the spring woods, with long quiet walks during the day and long evenings of making love in front of a blazing fireplace, she made the arrangements, right down to the firewood. The results delighted him (and he happily paid all the bills), but he was too focused on work to conceive and arrange such a weekend. So Julie had adopted a very assertive persona. She had already concluded she didn't want to live the rest of her life this way, but was enjoying it for the moment. On the sexual side, she also chose to be quite aggressive, demonstrative, and exhibitionistic, at least when she was with him.
One side effect was an increased sexual appetite. When the weekends were no longer enough, and he worked late every evening during the week, she had insisted on this midweek extended lunch. Initially reluctant, he soon figured out how to work it into his schedule and was really enjoying it now. For one of the few times, he had even suggested today's location, promising her a tropical paradise. Her curiosity and anticipation were building apace as the bus lumbered down the street.
Her stop was coming up, and she yanked on the cord hard. As the bus slowed to a stop, she used the last of the momentum to swing out of the seat, into the rear stairwell, and out the door. She shouldered the daypack and continued on down the sidewalk, along the tall granite block wall of an old estate, looking for the small metal gate he would leave open for her. She found it and slipped through, a tingle of excitement at apparently trespassing causing her to pause for a moment before locking it behind her. She headed up the rise inside the wall through an area of trees. The trees were only four or five deep and she quickly spotted Gerry leaning against a tree on the other side. She waved; he spotted her and waved back, then tried to be inconspicuous as he put away his cellphone. Not a good sign.
She reached him and slid into his arms. Their lips met, and three days of anticipation surged up within her. She could feel the wetness starting. Her lips softened, melted against his, slowly moving, flowing over him. Their tongues touched, reintroducing themselves and then exploring deeper and more imploringly. This initial kiss was very important to her, and she had made sure he knew it, but something was missing today.
When the kiss broke, he turned and slipped his arm around her waist. They started walking across a lawn the size of a small meadow. He was asking about her morning and the last couple of days, asking all the right questions, but part of him wasn't there. He definitely was distracted, which annoyed her, and she definitely was going have to do something about it.
They reached a greenhouse on the other side of the lawn. He fumbled briefly with the padlock, and then swept the door open. As she stepped in, the rich fragrances and the humidity swept over her. Large-leaved tropical plants, some with blossoms, lined both sides of the greenhouse, and orchids of every description covered two long parallel tables down the center. He'd kept his promise, to her great delight! While he worked on a reluctant dead-bolt, she literally danced down the aisle between the two tables, stopping to smell and admire each new variety. He strode by, grinning at her delight. "There's a big open area here in the middle that should work," he called to her and continued on to the other end. Reluctantly tearing herself away from the blossoms, she found the open area he'd indicated, shrugged her day-pack off her shoulders, and pulled out the old blanket that she carried for these occasions. He was fussing over something at the far end. She started spreading the blanket, noting that the ground here was very soft and resilient, probably from having potting mix spilled on it repeatedly over the years. It definitely would work. She felt a light breeze start up, and glanced up to see the large fans at the end of the greenhouse rotating lazily.
By the time she had finished with the blanket, he was back and getting undressed. He was turned sideways to her. His jacket was already crisply folded and laid over a rail. His shoes were neatly arranged, socks in them. He was just folding his pants. He was ... efficient. It was direct, with minimum effort, but he was not completely there and not looking at her. As he finished efficiently stripping and turned toward her, she could see that he indeed needed more focus.
