A couple of weeks went by and Harry and I got to know the more mundane and ordinary things about each other. Who cooked when, what we each didn't like to eat. Which chores around the house we didn't mind doing or hated. I mean, who likes housework, right?
Harry said I could quit my job because his investment income, pension and social security were more than enough. I refused right off. I was already conceding something when I moved into his house. I wanted the independence of having my own money to do whatever. That was the first day after I took up residence. At the end of the week Harry told me he was pleased I wanted to keep working. Even if it meant we had less time together. "I like independent women of independent means, who know their own minds," he smiled.
We had sex. Of course we did. Several times that first two weeks. Some of Harry's friends probably though we were screwing like rabbits all the time. Wasn't the case. Some people apparently assumed we weren't screwing at all, except the rare occasion I'd presumably give "old Harry" a mercy fuck.
One of my co-workers at the bookstore cornered me on the second Wednesday and said, "So what's it like, screwing an old guy like that?" "What makes you think we're screwing?" I grinned at her. Georgia and I had had some high times when we were seniors together in high school. Now she was married to Al, a nice guy, except he always flirted with me. A couple of times at parties at their house, Al came on to me a little strong, I thought. I'd asked Georgia about him. Was he just fooling around? Yes and no she told me with a strange look in her eyes. "I mean he flirts with all the girls. But sometimes he's serious too." Did that mean he was a serious flirt? Later I thought I'd found out what she was referring to.
Georgia raised one eyebrow. "Are you kidding? You've got to be screwing him. I know you, that's why I think so. Of course you're screwing him. I just wanna know how often and what it's like. Details, girl, details. C'mon give. Tell me details."
"Georgia, are you telling me about your orgies and gangbangs? What I hear about you doing on the weekends? Of course not. And I'm not kissing and telling either. We have a pretty ordinary life together. So far." I winked and went back to shelving another box of romance paperbacks. I'd heard the rumors about Georgia and Al and what went on at some of their weekend parties. They'd been married a year or so by then. She never admitted anything.. But they didn't deny the rumors either. Georgia would just smile whenever the subject came up.
That evening Harry and I were just hanging out, having a beer, reading, one eye on the TV. "Do you know Al Martin?" Harry asked.
"Sure. His wife works with me at the bookstore." I waited but Harry didn't say anything else. I forgot about it. Later in bed, just snuggling under the sheet, Harry raised another question. "Have you ever watched any porn?"
"Yes," I admitted. "I don't make a habit of it. A lot of it is crap. Poorly done and fakey." Do you? Watch porn?"
"Sometimes. More after my wife died. You're right, a lot of it crap as you so elegantly put it. But within the crap are sometimes nuggets of useful information."
