Author's note: This is a new series that will take a while to write. I'm writing this story in real time, the dates and days I mention are the days I'm writing. As such, the local weather and traffic conditions appear in my story. Certain local businesses are named, but I do so only to make a realistic story, not for commercial purposes. All character names are fictional and any resemblance with actual people living or dead, is purely coincidental. Places of employment are also fictional, and any similarity in name is also coincidental. So, enjoy this first installment and look for future chapters as my filthy mind produces them. All characters, even those unnamed, are over 18, most are well over 18.
February 1 seems to roll around faster with each passing year, or so Claire Watkins thought, as she looked at her computer screen and felt the same melancholy feelings wash over her again. Had it really been seven years? Seven years since the death of her college sweetheart turned husband, David. Claire and David met when they were both sophomores at one of the California State Universities. A matchmaker friend of Claire's covertly invited Claire and David to a party and the rest, as it's often said, was history. Careers brought Claire and David to San Jose, and they loved life there. That was until seven years ago.
The cancer swept through David's body at an alarming rate, it was very aggressive. In Claire's mind, one day David complained of muscle aches, and less than seven months later she arrived home after his funeral. Her daughters had stayed with her several weeks after the funeral, but they had lives and families of their own, Ashley in Boston and Elizabeth in suburban Minneapolis. Always a California girl, having grown up in the Los Angeles area, Claire would never dream of leaving her San Jose home.
Claire went back to work as a financial planner and tried to create a new normal, though she knew there'd always be that hole that would never be refilled. The first year passed. It was full of uncertainty, anxiety, and nearly overwhelming sadness, but it led to the second year, which had much less uncertainty and anxiety. David's insurance policies provided Claire with a financial cushion that when combined with her own salary made her living very comfortable. Visits to and from her daughters kept her in contact with grandkids, which always brought joy to Claire's heart, but still the sadness lingered.
Years three and four brought more peace and calm to Claire, and though two or three very fine men approached her, she knew she would not remarry. She had platonic relationships with a couple of male coworkers, but she always made it clear that she was not looking for a relationship. It was her way of honoring David's memory. Besides, remarrying might lead to inheritance complications between any surviving spouse and her daughters and their families. She and David had always thought of Ashley and Elizabeth, making them 50% contingent beneficiaries to all their financial holdings. Claire would not jeopardize that, even at the expense of her own happiness.
Now at age 62, Claire was at a crossroad in her life. She was old enough to collect social security. Yes, she could have collected widow's benefits starting when she turned 60, but she wanted to remain working and thus did not see the point of reducing future benefits. Working was also part of Claire's coping strategy. Work gave her purpose, something to keep her mind occupied. The thought of retiring filled her with dread. Sure, she might find volunteer opportunities, but the fact was Claire enjoyed her job. She had clients who relied on her knowledge, who were building their own retirement plans based on the information and insight she provided. This was all part of her life as a widow.
Claire persevered, she always did. She made annual three- or four-week trips to Boston and Minneapolis, and eagerly awaited her daughters bringing their families to San Jose over the holiday seasons. Claire had only a couple of close female friends, Janet Marbury and Alex Wilkes, but when she longed for companionship, most times one or both women were only too happy to go on a weekend trip or take in a dinner and show at either the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts, or the Montgomery Theater. Alex lived in San Jose, Janet about four hours away.
Janet was Claire's longtime friend from college. They met in a political science class when they partnered for a class presentation. They learned were only a year apart in age, Claire being 23 and Janet 22, and had similar suburban Los Angeles backgrounds. Janet was not the matchmaker who introduced Claire and David but had been a bridesmaid at their wedding. When Janet married three years later, Claire was Janet's maid-of-honor. Janet's marriage was not the storybook kind that Claire experienced, and after ten rocky years she learned her husband had been cheating for at least the past three years, so she filed for divorce. Ten years of financial struggles and humiliation transformed Janet from the shy newlywed into the hardnosed, no-nonsense woman she was today. Though she lived some four hours distant in a small town north of Bakersfield, she made Claire a priority and found time to get together just about every month.
Claire met Alex at a work retreat approximately ten years ago. They were both financial planners at Robinson Financial and had signed up for a continuing education course offered over a Friday-Saturday at a retreat near Big Sur. Prior to the training the two had known each other by name but had never spent time together. The retreat put Claire and Alex at the same table and by the time things wrapped up on Saturday afternoon, a new friendship was rapidly growing. Claire and Alex learned their elder daughters had attended Santa Teresa High School a couple of years apart (though Alex had later moved to another neighborhood), and neither Claire nor Alex had any interest in the San Francisco 49ers, though their husbands were both avid fans. David had a 49er memorabilia collection ranging from a John Brodie autographed football to a Joe Montana jersey. Alex's husband, Mike, had built a man-cave complete with gold carpeting and red and black walls. Alex could count on one hand the number of times she entered that hideous room, despite the 80" television mounted on the red wall (at least it covered up some of the color). Claire and Alex even developed retirement and other types of planning seminars together. They lived only fifteen minutes apart.
Which brings the story to today, February 1, 2024, the seventh anniversary of David's death. Claire woke and tried to treat it like any other Thursday, a plan that lasted for all of fifteen seconds before she felt the familiar pain of loss. As she entered the kitchen she saw the "Thinking of You" cards from both Janet and Alex on her table, and a faint smile formed on her face. She fluffed her uncombed shoulder-length gray hair as she reached into the refrigerator for the orange juice. She turned on the electric tea kettle to make her morning tea, then looked out the sliding door to her deck at the pouring rain. Last night's winds had tipped over one of her deck chairs. She sighed and decided what to wear to her office this morning.
As she was dressing, her phone pinged with a text from Alex.
Alex: "Hey, just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you."
Claire smiled. Neither she nor Alex nor Janet could navigate the "OMW" or "BRB" or "LMK" or any of the other mindless abbreviations modern texters use. Alex would say she spent good money on a college education that stressed proper grammar and spelling, and she would use it, even if typing took ten times longer. Claire and Janet were in full agreement.
Alex: "Mike's going to some pre-Super Bowl thing at a friend's house Friday into Saturday, let's catch a movie and gorge on snacks."
Claire: "You're an angel, you know just when I need 'Alex' time. I'll be there. What time?"
Alex: "Mike's friend lives up near the Bay, he'll be leaving after work. Come on over anytime, but with the expected rain, try to make it before dark. Our road can be tricky."
Claire: "OK, I'll be there by six. What should I pick up on the way?"
Alex: "There's no need, but I haven't had
C'est Si Bon
in ages."
Claire laughed aloud. Alex, who always ordered salad or tofu, wanted something from a pastry shop, which for all practical purposes was a sugar factory. Claire knew the menu, she'd buy a variety of treats. Claire continued dressing, transforming the sleepy head into a very attractive woman with layered gray hair. Makeup and a bit of dull red lipstick accented her blue eyes, which in turn complimented the dark blue sweater she wore with a lighter blue skirt. She grabbed her thick jacket and umbrella, then was on her way to her office.
Thinking of the weekend, and of course thinking of David, made Thursday feel like an eternity. At long last she saw it was 5:30PM and time to head home. After a quick dinner then she settled down to watch some old television program on a streaming service. Her phone rang and she and Janet talked then it was off to bed.
Claire typically wore full pajamas minus any underclothing to bed. She performed her evening ritual of shower, teeth brushing, washing dishes, and reading a daily devotional. She wasn't particularly religious but reading of other people's troubles helped keep her grounded in her own world. She also packed her overnight bag in anticipation of getting to Alex's house, being mindful of the forecasted rain. She thought about the next day and how she'd leave work around 4:00PM, her typical Friday quitting time.
Claire climbed into bed grabbed her iPad, and decided she'd read some erotic literature to take her mind off of David. She slipped off her pajama pants and unbuttoned her top. She perused a couple of stories, there was a new entry entitled "
Boulder Meadow, Chapter 1
" that caught her eye. This author was new, and for some dumb reason he took on the persona of a boulder to tell the story of a young girl masturbating while sitting on a rock. "How uncomfortable," she said aloud. "Who would ever sit bare assed on a rock when there was a meadow full of flowers right there?" But she found the story entertaining and she guided her right hand down to her pubic mound and teased her labia into arousal.
Claire was intrigued that the girl in the story, Aiyana, fantasized about her best friend secretly watching her masturbate. Claire fought off visions of Alexa, then Janet, as her breathing quickened, and her fingers caused her womanly moisture to form in the cleft of her vagina. Claire felt the cold metal of her iPad in contact with her small, sagging breasts as her arousal grew. Claire kept reading while working her right hand all along her slit, from her vaginal opening to her clitoris, now fully extended out of its hood. As her climax neared, Claire closed her eyes. Again, she saw Alexa smiling down at her, so she opened her eyes to finish the story. When the girl in the story screamed her best friend's name as she reached orgasm, Claire reached her own orgasm. She did not say either "Alex" or "Janet," but certainly envisioned her two friends as she gripped her vagina tightly, riding out her orgasm.
In her ecstatic throes of pleasure, Claire's pajama top became twisted around her making her uncomfortable. Claire remedied the situation by slipping off her top before falling asleep. For the first time since David passed, Claire Watkins slept fully nude. She kissed her pillow pulled her covers tight over her shoulders and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
Claire woke to the sound of more rain and was momentarily confused why she was naked. Then the events of last night returned and she got out of bed to prepare for her day and then the drive to Alex's house. Feeling just slightly naughty and thinking she wouldn't be able to repeat last night's antics until at least Saturday evening, she went about her morning ritual stark naked.
She ate a small breakfast of fruit and toast at her counter, felt the chill of the refrigerator on her bare breasts as she reached for her orange juice, then caught her reflection in the glass cupboard door as she reached for a teacup. There she was a nude 62-year-old woman who had just masturbated while thinking of her two best friends while reading porn on the internet. As she stood there, present in the moment, her phone again pinged with a text, this time from daughter Elizabeth.
