Passion in James County XII
The Widow
By D.C. Roi
Chapter one
Fran Martin and her friend, Joanne Williams, stood on the porch of Fran's mountain cabin in rural James County, looking at the sunset. Actually, they'd forgotten the sunset. They were watching Greg and Abby Atkinson, Fran's neighbors, embrace and kiss passionately on the dock that jutted out into the lake in front of the Atkinson property. The couple grabbed at each other's bodies and, even from the women's observation point several cabins down the lake, they could tell the couple was French-kissing. "They're really something, aren't they?" Fran commented.
"Are they always that...ah...openly...um...affectionate?" Joanne asked. She tried not to watch the activity on the dock, but her eyes kept coming back to it. Watching the couple was stirring feelings in her, disquieting feelings that had lain dormant too long, and she was growing more and more uncomfortable.
Fran nodded. "You can count on seeing them out there just about every night at sundown," she replied, "I guess, if I were in their position, I'd be acting like that, too. They just got married a couple of months ago." She chuckled. "But even before that, they couldn't keep their hands off each other." She shrugged. "I can't imagine going without..." She saw the sad look in her friend's eyes and paused.
"I'm sorry, hon," she told Joanne, "Sometimes I open my mouth before I put my brain in gear."
Joanne was a widow. Her husband of twenty years died of cancer two years earlier and she was just beginning to come out of mourning for him. She had come to stay with her friend as a way of beginning to move on with her life.
"You remember how that feels, don't you, Joanne?" Fran said softly. "And you probably miss it, too, don't you?
Joanne nodded, her eyes a bit red. "Yes, I certainly I do," she said softly and wistfully. "Lately I find myself missing it more and more. It's been over two years now, and..."
A look of shock appeared on Fran's face. "You...you mean you haven't been to bed with anyone since...since Ernie died?" she asked, stunned. She was about to enter the second month of one of her periods between boyfriends and was climbing the walls. Once before, during a time like this, she wound up in bed with her neighbor, Greg. It was an extremely delightful experience, because Greg was a vigorous and masterful lover. But that wasn't likely to ever happen again now that he was happily married.
"N...no, I...I haven't been. I...I couldn't, not with just anyone," Joanne replied, "I..." She began to sob.
Fran pulled her friend into her arms and held the woman as she sobbed softly. She stroked Joanne's soft brown hair as she did. "I know you still miss Ernie," she said softly. "I know how much you loved him."
When Joanne's sobbing stopped, Fran released her and stepped back. "Why don't we get something to eat?" she said. "I'm starved."
"I...I'd be happy to make something," Joanne said, "After all, you were nice enough to let me come up here and stay with you and all..."
"Tell you what, you can make the salad if you want to," Fran said.
"OK," Joanne said, grinning, "I think I can manage that."
Fran poked her friend on the shoulder and giggled. "You think you'll be able to handle the cucumbers without doing unspeakable things with them?" she asked, laughing.
Joanne's face turned bright red. "Fran!" she exclaimed, "Only you would think about something like that! You're so bad!"
"That's what all the men tell me," Fran giggled.
During dinner, the two friends chatted pleasantly about a number of things, but both of them were careful not to make sex one of the topics of discussion.
Joanne looked across the table at her friend. Fran was beautiful. No more than five feet tall, she somehow managed to be both petite and buxom. She had a slim figure, but her breasts were quite large. In spite of their size, they looked as if they didn't need much support. Her backside was a little wide, but very nicely shaped. She wore her blonde hair shoulder-length and always kept it styled nicely.
Joanne was at least as attractive as her friend, but she wouldn't have believed it if Fran had told her so. She'd always felt she was rather plain, even though that was far from the truth. Tall and slim, she stood about five-nine and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds, barely five pounds more than she weighed in high school. Each ounce of those pounds was placed exactly where it should be, too. Her breasts, which she always believed were too small, sagged a bit, but were still nicely shaped. Her bottom, too, was taut and, if anything, was better than Fran's. Her long legs were slim and firm. She was blessed with naturally curly hair that she wore just under shoulder-length and she let it dangle in a wild mass that framed her smooth, unlined, and very pretty face. She looked far younger than thirty-eight.
"You aren't seeing anyone right now, are you Fran?" Joanne asked. She liked being with her friend who, though she often did outrageous things, made her feel comfortable and accepted.
Fran frowned and shook her head. "No, I'm not. The guy I was going out with got a job out on the West Coast," she replied. "He wanted me to move out there with him, but I didn't want to give up my job and my place here at the lake."
"Aren't you sometimes afraid you won't find anyone?" Joanne asked. "Don't...don't you worry about winding up alone?"
Fran nodded. "Sometimes, when I think about it, I worry," she said, "but I figure what's meant to be will be, no matter what I do about it. And even though there have been some dry spells, I haven't had to worry too much about male companionship."
The girl talk continued while the women cleared the table and did the dishes.
"You want to know a secret?" Fran said in a conspiratorial tone as she and Joanne walked into the living room once the dishes were done.
"What's that?" Joanne asked.
"You know Greg?" Fran said.
Joanne studied her friend with interest. "You mean the young man we saw on the dock with his wife earlier?" she asked.
Fran nodded. "Yeah, I made it with him once," she said, grinning.
Joanne was surprised. "You...you did?" she exclaimed. "How...how did that happen?"
Fran smiled. "Well, a while back, not long before he got involved with Abby," she said. "I was going through one of these dry spells between men and was feeling sorry for myself. One night, when I was feeling particularly lonely, I went over to Greg's house because I needed someone to talk to."
"And...?" Joanne said, intrigued.
"Well..." Fran said. She shrugged and grinned. "When I got there, we..."
* * * * * * * * * *
Fran was sitting at her kitchen table, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of her, feeling out of sorts. She had just experienced the messy breakup of a relationship and she felt more alone than she had in a long time. She wanted someone to talk with, but it was mid-week, and none of the women she normally was able to have girl-talk with were around.
She sat there, staring at the cup on the table and, for some reason she found herself thinking about her neighbor, Greg Atkinson. Other than the old retired couples at the upper end of the lake, he was the only other person at the lake she might be able to talk with. He was a good friend, and might not mind if she stopped over for a few minutes.
She got up, slipped a jacket over her T-shirt, and headed out the door, headed for Greg's cabin. When she got there, she could hear the TV playing, so she knocked on the door. "Greg? Are you home?" she called.
Greg came to the door and Fran saw that he was in his bathrobe. She felt herself blushing. "Uh...look, I'm sorry, Greg. I...I didn't want to...to bother you. I, ah, I can come back some other time," she stammered
"Ah, no, it's all right, Fran," Greg said. "Come in." He stepped back and held the door open so she could enter his house. "I just fell asleep watching the evening news, I guess. Come on in."
Fran moved past him and looked around. "I...I really shouldn't be bothering you," she said. "Especially if you're tired. I...I better go." She stepped toward the door.
Greg took hold of her arm gently. "Look, Fran, I meant it. You don't have to leave," he said. "I'll make us some coffee. What's up?"
"I...I was feeling a little lonely. I...I just wanted someone to talk to," Fran said. "I, ah, I'm not sure, um, you know it...it gets, you know, kind of lonely...sometimes." Her voice sounded strained and her chest was heaving. "None of the women I usually can talk with are around and..." She shrugged.
"I know exactly how you feel," Greg said. "Mr. and Mrs. Williston are nice people, but they were hard to talk to even before they developed hearing loss."
He looked into Fran's eyes and she looked into his. Fran was very conscious that the kitchen was filled with sexual tension. "This visit could turn out a lot nicer than I thought it would," she mused.
Greg startled her by bending, wrapping his arms around Fran, and covering her lips with his. She returned the kiss fiercely and felt him slide his hands down her back, cup her bottom, and pull her against him. Their mouths opened and their tongues dueled.
Finally, breathing hard, Fran leaned back in Greg's arms and looked at him. "My God, Greg!" she gasped. "What...what are we doing? I...I better leave." Although she heard herself saying the words, she knew she had no intention of leaving. She hadn't expected anything like this to happen, but now that it was happening, she didn't want it to end, not yet, not before Greg made her feel wonderful! And, somehow, she knew he'd do just that!
Greg led her to his bedroom, took her jacket off, then he pulled her T-shirt over her head and began caressing her breasts. Exultation filled Fran and she moaned softly and pulled him against her. She felt him opening her jeans and pushing them down.
Greg didn't say anything, he acted. He sucked one of her rigid nipples into his mouth.
"Oh, God, Greg!" Fran whimpered. She clutched his head with her hands. Her legs were trembling so hard she was afraid she'd fall.
