CHAPTER 2
A chance meeting on a busy street between Aimee and Don has created something akin to a father/daughter like relationship as Don helped Aimee deal with some of the issues that had resulted in her tearful distress at their first meeting. In spite of the subtle signs of her vulnerability, and Don's natural inclinations, he steadfastly resisted such urges while the two became good friends. It is now four months after their first meeting.
= = =
Winter had set in with a vengeance bringing bitterly frigid days. The wind tore through the streets making wind tunnels confined by blocks of tall office buildings. Aimee had become a permanent employee of Laffitte's and fully enjoyed the door it provided into a world of relationships she had never imagined possible. In a few short months, she had truly come into her own.
Don and Aimee got together for coffee, or a meal on a regular basis. At first it was once every other week but had soon developed into a weekly "date." They enjoyed one another's company and Aimee had come to look forward to each meeting with a level of yearning that was unfamiliar to her. He told her of his failed marriage and the divorce, now ten years ago, after 12 childless years of marriage and her multiple affairs.
"The pain is still there.," he told her, "And I have issues with trust now."
Aimee provided an oasis of relief after days on end that were filled with stress and pressures of his work. He enjoyed hearing of the experiences she had and the things she was learning from day to day. She was, in many ways, like a flower opening to the warmth of the sun as she developed from an insecure, spoiled, rich girl into a confident, resourceful, intelligent woman.
The conversation they had on the first step of her brownstone the night he walked her home still hung on a hook in their memory. It was like an unused tool, hung on a pegboard. It was there, they were aware of it and noticed it from time to time; but still unused. Dormant, but still flickering from time to time.
On this particular day I had worked late, and we arranged to meet for coffee and dessert at Lafitte's.
I sat at the table that we had dubbed as "our table" waiting for Aimee to arrive. She came through the door, stomping her feet on the mat to rid them of debris picked up from the wintery sidewalks. I watched as she removed her calf length woolen coat and hung it on the rack by the door. As she put her arms back to allow the coat to slip off her shoulders, I noted the shape and size of her breasts as they stretched the fabric of the sweater vest she wore over a blue cotton shirt with long sleeves. She wore black trousers that revealed the curve of her hips, belly and buttocks but hung more loosely around her thighs and legs down to her ankles. Her tinted lips curved upward in an impish smile and her eyes sparkled as she sat across from me and flung her hair back from her shoulders. "Hi, Don.," she said as she reached across the table and patted my arm.
Her touch was evidence of just how far she had come over the months. My body's response to her touch was evidence of just how much, in that same amount of time, she had been transformed into a desirable woman in my eyes. I struggled against the want ... the need. I forced myself to observe what was appropriate and proper.
We ordered caramel lattes and decided to split a slice of New York style cheesecake with strawberries. She ate the strawberries, and I ate the cheesecake.
As we sipped our second lattes, Aimee's face grew serious, and a shadow of uncertainty and hesitation passed over her. "What's up hon?" I don't remember when I started using that pet name, it just seemed to pop out at some point and had been used ever since.
She toyed with her napkin as she lowered her eyes. She looked back up at me with those gorgeous gray eyes. "I need some help," she said. I quickly asked what I could do to help, and she said, "I don't know if you can. I mean, I don't know if you would, or even if it's right for me to ask."
She had my curiosity piqued now and I told her, "Hon, you can ask me anything, I hope you have learned that by now. What's bothering you?"
In the glow of the candle flame I could see the struggle that played out in her facial expressions. She pushed the stray lock of hair from her face and her eyes met mine.
"You know I've met some guys and have developed some friendships with some of them."
I waited, working to keep a neutral expression as I braced myself for what I thought was coming next.
"She continued, "They are nice guys, and I enjoy being with them but ..."
"But....?"
"I don't know," she said, "it's just that I think some of them would like to connect with me, but something is missing. I don't have similar feelings, and I think it would be wrong to lead them on in thinking we could be more than friends.
"Perhaps it is too soon to make that kind of decision." I said.
"No," she responded, "the problem is I have been having feelings that I've never had before, for a different man ... and I don't know what they are for sure or what to do with them."
