I returned her smile with my smile.
"Good-bye, Mark.
# # #
Over time, the feeling of Maureen came and went, slowly dissipating, sometimes stronger and other times weaker, the sense of her grew weaker. Sometimes, I felt her for only a few minutes before the feeling of her faded away while other times, with the feeling of her stronger, she was here with me most of the day. When she was here, I felt her looking over my shoulder. The feeling of her blowing on my neck or the sensation of her blowing in my ear was nerve racking. Sexually teasing me, I imagined her laughing when annoying me like that.
Certainly, I felt her presence stronger when Colleen, Gwen, and/or her mother was here. Yet, even though the feeling of her here came and went, always, she was here with the advent of some anniversary, such as, our first date and/or our first kiss. With those days important to her and to us, she returned for her birthday and for my birthday.
I know she was here when Missy got loose and was nearly hit by a car that stopped just in time. I know that Maureen saved Missy's life. Then, for the longest time, I felt nothing. She stopped coming to see me. She must have been with Colleen, Gwen, or with her mother.
I tried to feel her by closing my eyes and concentrating on the memory of her. On those days when I was alone and lonely, and missed her so terribly much, I tried summoning her by concentrating on the image of her and holding her picture or something that belonged to her and that she cherished. When she didn't materialize, I feared she was gone for good.
I needed her here with me even if only as a ghostly spirit or as a feeling or a sense of something skulking around the house. After the orgy of physical and sexual contact with Colleen, Gwen, and Carol was over, I was sad, lonely, and empty with the loss of her. It was comforting when I felt her here with me.
When she wasn't around, I was depressed. I needed to hear her voice. I needed to hear her laugh. I needed to feel her body next to mine in bed as we spooned. Never did she return to me, as she did the night of her death. That night was our last intimate time together and a memory that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.
It was such a bittersweet experience to feel her here with me one day and then not to feel her the next. I had no control of when she'd come, when she'd go, and how long she'd stay. I wondered if she was out in Rochester visiting Carol or in Boston visiting Gwen or Colleen. Maybe she was in Heaven, finally, where she belonged.
Still, Carol said she'd call me if she felt Maureen's presence there with her and I never doubted that she'd call me to let me know. I suspected, though, that Maureen would make less visits, as more time passed. A gradual process of mourning her again, days turned into weeks and weeks into months without feeling the presence of Maureen. Finally, I figured she wouldn't return again. She was gone for good and all that I had left of her were memories, pictures, and a few of her possessions that Gwen allowed me to keep.
# # #
I made a pilgrimage to Rochester, New York to visit her grave selfishly hoping that it would stir her to return home with me. I took the dogs and a lawn chair with me. I sat there for couple of hours with the dogs while talking to her.
I would have stayed longer, but it started thundering before it started raining, really pouring, and I feared being struck by lightning. Besides the dogs wanted no part of sitting out in a thunderstorm. Unfortunately, hoping that it would, my praying, and my visit to her grave didn't encourage her to follow me home. Happy that she was finally resting in peace, I feared that she was gone forever.
No longer did the dogs stare up at the wall or at the ceiling wagging their tails. No more did they whine and get wild for no apparent reason. I knew she was gone, and I wanted to call Carol to tell her that Maureen was gone, but I thought better of it. I didn't want to upset her. I didn't want to hear her crying again.
It was better that Carol believed that Maureen was still around me. I didn't think she'd want a telephone call from me telling her that her daughter was finally gone. I figured by my silence; she knew that anyway.
I wanted to see Carol when I was in Rochester, but I felt guilty. How could I look her husband in the eye after having had sex with not only his two daughters but also with his wife, too? If he hated me before, he'd want to kill me now. Besides, it would have been awkward to visit with Carol and her daughter Gwen, after Gwen moved back home when her job didn't last.
Gwen was unpredictable and there's no telling what she may have said about what had happened between us in front of not only her father but also her mother. Even though her mother knew that I had sex with both her daughters, she didn't need to hear all of the dirty details from Gwen. I could just imagine Gwen laughing while reminiscing of the time when she tossed my salad in the shower. Just as I could imagine her father voicing his outrage.
"You did what? Carol, where's my shotgun," I imagined him asking?
# # #
Now, I felt terribly alone again. I hate being alone. Whether she's dead or alive, I need a woman in my life. Only, I didn't mean that how it sounded. I need someone in my life, but not just any woman. I need a special woman, someone like Maureen. Only, one-in-a-million, I'll never find another Maureen.
I wanted that special someone, a woman who I'm deeply attracted to on all levels. I wanted a woman who I think about when leaving the house and who made me not want to leave her bed. I wanted a woman who I think about all day, a woman who made me impatient to get home, and one who I loved to kiss, hug, and hold. I wanted a woman who will never make look at another woman.
I wanted a woman who made me giddy with happiness and with lustful, sexual desire. When we made love, I wanted it to be magical. That's the woman that I wanted. Is there such a woman out there for me? If there's such a woman for me, where is she? Alas, I had that woman, once, but she's gone, gone forever.
Even though I've had an abundance of sexual relationships within the past year and a half with Maureen, her best friend, Colleen, Maureen's sister, Gwen, and Maureen's mother, Carol, believe it or not, I'm a one-woman type of guy. I'm done with having sex with Maureen's best friend and her relatives. I want my own woman. I much prefer love to sex and would rather have someone to talk to and laugh with, do things with, and travel to places, as well as having the intimate relationship with all the hugging, holding, kissing, and sex.
I'm too old and too set in my ways to be partying with young chicks anymore. It was unbelievable having sex with Maureen's mother but she has a husband. She's married. She'd never want me in the way that I wanted her.
Yet, nonetheless how much I loved being with Carol, I wanted someone all my own. I wanted something real and everlasting. Instead of being with someone half my age, I needed someone my own age this time around. I missed having a meaningful conversation, a conversation on my level. I wished I could find someone who's totally into me and who shared my interests as much as I shared her interests.
I needed a woman who loved watching baseball as much as she loved watching football. Does such a woman exist. Surely, in such a sports mecca as Boston there must be lots of women who love Tom Brady, the GOAT.
# # #
It was at the supermarket where I met Kate. Obviously, by her looks, I was attracted to her at first glance. Who wouldn't be? She was tall. She was beautiful. She had big tits.
She was sexy, shapely thin, and very good-looking. As if a sign from Heaven above, she was wearing a Tom Brady t-shirt and a Red Sox baseball cap. It's always good to meet another faithful, Fenway fan, and because she wore a Brady shirt, told me that she liked watching baseball but also football, too. At least, I hoped. I couldn't help but think of that movie 80 for Brady starring Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, Rita Moreno, Sally Fields and, of course, Tom Brady.
From the back, with her long legs and shapely ass, she reminded me of Maureen. Different from Maureen, instead of having red hair, Kate had gray hair. Because her hair was gray, she looked fifty-something but, after looking at her again and upon closer examination, especially from the front, her beautiful skin contradicted her age. If I was to guess her age, I guess she was in her late forty's. Had she colored her hair, she'd look thirty-something.
I never understood a woman who turned her back to youthfulness by allowing her hair to gray naturally without coloring it, that is, until I met Kate. Her gray-hair not only suited her but also, amazingly, it looked good on her. Now, after seeing her with her shoulder length, flowing gray hair, I couldn't imagine her hair any other color. Besides, instead of being with a woman half my age, how awesome would it be to be with a woman closer to my age.
In the way of first introducing rich cream to dark, strong coffee when it swirls around before mixing with and turning a lighter shade of brown, or when seeing the glistening glass and chrome of modern architecture next to the brick and wood of old world charm, she looked young and old at the same time. She captured the qualities of both youth and maturity in one glance. With her making me feel my age, I liked the look.
It was weird, in one look I could see how she looked in her youth and could imagine what she'd look like as she aged. When she turned away from me and I viewed her from the back, except for her shapely backside, she looked older with her gray hair. Then, when she turned towards me and I viewed her from the front, glad that she had big tits, I felt as if I was viewing Oscar Wilde's picture of Dorian Gray. As if she was a hologram, young to old and old to young, the sexy sight of her was strangely appealing.
Yet, puzzlingly me, there was something familiar about her. Strangely enough, I felt that I had met her before or knew her from somewhere long ago. Without a doubt, it was her eyes. Filled with an expressiveness of emotion, her eyes reminded me of Maureen's eyes.
