I didn't expect to be a widow at age 38. Gerald was a few years older -- 43 -- but he was vital and healthy. At the time, the doctors told me that sudden death was often the first (and last) symptom of heart disease. It was no consolation.
Gerald had been the bedrock of my life. About halfway through the second year of our marriage he came tome with flowers and a confession: that he yearned above all else to see me bound and helpless, under his complete control. We had always enjoyed a vigorous sex life, and I was eager to indulge his fantasies. Gradually, dominance and submission became our lifestyle. He was never unduly cruel or unfair. The punishments I earned were given lovingly, but also pushed my limits to their outermost edges. As time passed, things I would never have considered previously became tolerable, then enjoyable. I thrived under his instruction. I trusted him unconditionally. He was, in all respects, my Master.
His death was utterly devastating. His partners at the law firm made settling the estate as easy as it could be. Of course, they had no idea about the double life that Gerald and I led. The funeral came and went and finally I was alone. My grief seemed bottomless. Months passed before I was able to part with his things, and it was longer still before I could look at the harsh implements with which he had brought me so much pleasure. But inexorably a scab formed over the wound, and new tissue grew underneath it. Twenty months after his death, the scab started to itch and loosen around the edges. For the first time, I started to think about enjoying life again. My libido returned. Although Gerald left me well-off, I decided to take a part time job as a way to get out of the house.
Randall's was a more up-scale shoe retailer that I'd shopped at many times. The job offered about the number of hours I had in mind and a generous employee discount. Women and shoes, right? Many of our customers were regulars. I had even seen one or two of them when I had been a customer, before Gerald's passing. I was no over-achiever at the store; I had no aspirations beyond being a part-time clerk, but I quickly learned that I enjoyed helping customers find that thing of legend -- the "perfect shoe". In its own way, it was entertaining. Some people were matter-of-fact, in and out of the store within a few minutes. Others would gush out their life story as they tried on shoe after shoe after shoe. And then there was Eric.
Eric looked to be a twenty-something. He was always very pleasant and perhaps even flirtatious, but frankly I thought he was probably gay. Always well-dressed and impeccably groomed, he could be counted on for needing new shoes on an oddly frequent basis. I had comical visions of an apartment filled floor to ceiling with shoe boxes. I turned out to be both right and wrong, but I get ahead of myself.
Eric was handsome if he was nothing else. Lean but not skinny, he was athletic and graceful. Neatly styled white-blonde hair crowned the most brilliant green eyes I had ever seen. This young man had spent large sums of time and money on his appearance. Nature didn't make teeth so straight and white, and Caucasians in Illinois weren't so tan without tropical vacations or UV beds. He was tall enough, and his voice was satiny smooth. I had just passed his credit card through the scanner for the second time in a week. Claire, my co-worker, had just come back from her break.
"Hey Maggie, I'm back. Your turn."
"Thanks Claire. I'll finish this up and get out of here."
A sales receipt spilled out of the cash register. Smiling, I laid the receipt and a pen on the counter in front of him. He spoke as he signed for his purchase.
"You know, it just so happens I was on my way to lunch also. Thought I'd stop in at the deli a few doors over." He handed the receipt back, his sparkling green eyes making contact with mine. "If we ate lunch together, then neither one of us would have to eat alone."
"Ummm, well, " I stammered. I felt like I'd just been thrown into the middle of a cold, deep lake. It wasn't that I didn't want to go. In fact, I had grown terribly curious about this youthful man. It was just that I hadn't expected his invitation. Eric was looking at me, his bright smile gleaming. Claire was looking at me, silently mouthing "go! go!". I feigned resignation and agreed to lunch. I felt a drop of dew gather at the entrance of my sex.
We didn't say much on the way to DiAngleo's. Eric insisted that I order first, then told the kid at the counter to put both meals on his ticket.
"I can pay for my own lunch. Really."
"Maggie, your expert knowledge of wing-tips is worth at least one meal, don't you think?"
I laughed. "Ok, ok." Off in the far corner of the deli one very small table remained. It was really only meant for one person, but we managed. Eric was the picture of gentlemanly conduct, mannerly and chivalrous. I wasn't exactly surprised that he was so couth -- he was always exceedingly courteous at the store -- but it was his genuine sincerity that was so compelling. Our proximity at the little table tantalized my skin and played on my erotic imagination.
"So, Eric, " I ventured. "What's the deal with all the shoes? You buy a lot of them."
"The only pair I actually needed was the first pair you sold me. The rest were just because I wanted to see you."
"Oh, c'mon. You're probably 15 years younger than I am and could have anyone you wanted."
He took my hand and brought it gently to his lips, kissing it softly. "Don't underestimate yourself, Maggie. You are a powerful woman." His green eyes seared into me. This man had expectations and seemed accustomed to having them met. I couldn't help but be reminded of the way Gerald used to look at me when he knew he was approaching a limit of mine. We chatted as we ate, and I became quite comfortable. Honestly, it was hard not to feel comfortable around Eric. He was so completely self-assured that he just swept everyone around him into the same relaxed space.
Lunch passed far too quickly. I told him as much as I wanted him to know about Gerald. He was understanding and sympathetic, but at the same time pleased that I had accepted his lunch offer. In turn, I learned that he worked as a model and lived with his brother, Todd, in an apartment not far from Randall's. By the time we finished our meal, I had agreed to see him again, that evening. He'd send a cab, he said, and we'd go anywhere I wanted.
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The cab had arrived. I took a final look at myself in the mirror. Aside from a few faint lines at the corners of my eyes, I didn't look my age. Gerald and I had decided against having children before we married, and I had always taken good care of myself. My long auburn hair cascaded over my shoulders in waves that were, for the most part, natural. The simple dress I had chosen flattered my figure without revealing too many of my feminine charms. Smoothing my hands over my soft hips, I felt pretty and sexy. I didn't know how it would be to date again, and I was surprised to be so at ease. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but wonder what sort of lover Eric might be, or how his body would feel on top of mine. I had already decided that if he were to make such advances I would accept them. Gerald would never have expected me to put away my sexuality so early in life.
Eric watched as the cab pulled into the parking lot and walked out to meet it. He opened the car door for me and took my hand, helping me to my feet.
"My God, you're beautiful. Thank you." He kissed my hand again, then paid the cab fare. A dozen salmon-pink roses and a bottle of wine were awaiting my arrival at our table. Eric was so wonderfully skilled at the art of dining that any traces of trepidation I might have had melted away like snow in springtime. Tentatively, I brushed my leg against his under the table. He brushed mine back in response but coolly betrayed no other acknowledgement of being touched. Our legs played a subtle game of cat and mouse under the table as we ate an exquisite meal. My arousal steadily increased.
"Maggie, you are such a beautiful woman. I don't understand how you've been alone so long."
"Gerald was a huge part of my life. It was hard to learn how to be in charge of myself again. That and opportunity, I guess. The friends we had were all married. No one really knew what to say to the poor young widow, so they didn't say much of anything. But I could ask you the same question. Why is such a handsome young man still single?"
For the first time, Eric suddenly looked uncomfortable. Placing his napkin on the table, he poured more wine in both of our glasses then drew a long drink from his.
