With Open Arms Pt 01

I've chosen to make this a two-part story. The first part focuses on building the backstory with the second part paying off with most of the more titillating aspects of the story. It is first and foremost a romance though it does have a fair amount of sex in the second part. So, if you're searching for quick masturbatory material, this story most likely won't be your type of thing.

Comments are always welcome, so let me know what you think.

Chapter 1: Gimme Shelter

Jennifer pushed herself on the treadmill under the watchful eye of her physical therapist Ryan. The Eagles Hotel California was playing through her earbuds as her feet pounded the revolving surface. As Don Henley's voice echoed through her ears, she focused on the lyrics to distract her mind from the strain her body was feeling. Today was to be her final therapy session if Ryan was convinced enough of her progress, and she was determined to shine. As the sweat poured from her pores and Mr. Henley began to sing of steely knives and killing a beast, she saw Ryan give her the signal letting her know she was in the home stretch. As Don Felder and Joe Walsh began their classic dual guitar solo, she pushed herself even harder, forcing her body to its limits. The burning in her thighs and quads symbolizing in her mind actual flames burning out the remainder of any weakness brought on by her previous injuries. A blast furnace of heat scorching away all the physical bonds that had held her in place the last two years.

When Ryan, at last, signaled her with two thumbs up, she pushed the button to gradually slow the treadmill giving her tired legs time to adjust to the decline in speed. When it reached the pace of a steady walk, she raised both hands above her head and closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths of life-giving oxygen.

Ryan returned to the room, tossing her a fresh towel. She wrapped it around her neck and began wiping all the salty moisture from her face, chest, and underarms. Jennifer knew her results would score well. Hell, better than well, she'd aced his little final exam. Not only was her body fully recovered, but it was also better than before the event that had led to her injuries, at least physically. Mentally she knew she still had a few hurdles to clear, but she'd worry about that later.

"So how'd I do?" she asked the young man as he studied the clipboard he held in his hands. He was in his late twenties and tall with short dark thick hair. He had wide shoulders and a broad expanse to his chest that was made even more impressive by his flat stomach and narrow hips. He'd been casually flirting with her for months now. Little compliments that by themselves were innocent enough, but tied together with the gentle light touches and caresses as he helped her from machine to machine and station to station were clear indicators of his interest. She fully expected that before she left the therapy center today, that he would ask her out. The thought left her feeling apprehensive and made her stomach somewhat nauseous. Even the most judgemental person would qualify him as an attractive and high-quality catch. He had a secure, good-paying job with dependable hours, and a warm and fun personality, what wasn't there to like about him?

That was just it, despite knowing that she had every reason in the world to be attracted to him, she wasn't. Oh, she liked him well enough as a person, and in an everyday setting, he'd likely make a good friend. She didn't feel any spark of romantic interest towards him and had never been remotely tempted to return any of his advances.

Perhaps it was Darren and the horrors he'd imposed upon her, though deep in her mind, she knew that wasn't the case. Maybe things she'd been forced to endure while with him had left her frigid and incapable of a feeling like attraction for now, though she suspected that wasn't true either. That was a question better saved for later and her session with Doctor Sellers. Of course, she wouldn't give Jennifer any answers directly; she'd insist on her coming up with them on her own. But the good doctor would help guide her down the path to finding them as she'd done her other problems they'd encountered during her treatment. The Doctor had used the analogy that therapy is like an obstacle course during Jennifer's first session. You had to learn to maneuver and overcome the obstacles in your way. Some would be relatively easy to overcome while others would seem daunting and impossible, but that together, she hoped to help Jennifer find the tools to do just that. She'd explained that when Jennifer finally reached the finish line, she would have her confidence back. She would no longer have to fear the panic attacks and crippling anxiety that came as a result of the PTSD she'd suffered from, at least that was the hope.

"You did spectacularly," Ryan said before adding, "but you already knew that. That was your best distance by far for the allotted time." He then smiled and reached for her chest. She tried not to flinch as her skin crawled at the thought of him touching her. Instead, he grabbed the earbud hanging there and asked, "What were you listening to?" Forcing as friendly a smile as she could, Jennifer took the earbud from his hand and stepped down off the treadmill, making her way over to her gym bag. "The Eagles Greatest Hits," She answered, adding, "It's always helped calm my mind and relax me. It helps me zone out and not think about how hard I'm pushing my body."

Ryan laughed and shook his head, "Your an old soul Jennifer. Most anyone I work with under the age of thirty-five these days is listening to rap or hip-hop, not you though; sometimes, I think you were born in the wrong century."

It wasn't the first time she'd heard the comment regarding not only her taste for classic rock, which she'd inherited from spending many an hour with her father, but also her attitudes towards dating and her aversion to the idea of casual sex. It was so common these days for people to hook up with those they encountered at the slightest sign of attraction. None of her friends understood her. So many were willing to flip up their skirt and drop their panties for any guy that aroused them. It wasn't that Jennifer judged them. It was just that the thought of some guy she hardly knew touching and caressing her body made her nauseous. She always believed that she'd eventually meet that one special guy and would instantly feel that attraction and excitement she'd heard people speak of her entire life. As yet, it had never happened with a man and was certainly never there with Darren.

No, Darren had been an ill-fated experiment of sorts. One she could at least in significant part blame on her mother. It was an attempt to see if love and attraction could grow over time if given the proper foundation. She'd been nineteen at the time and headed into her freshman year at college when her mother had sat her down one weekend and told her it was time she started dating. To Sharon Waters, it was unconscionable that her beautiful daughter had never had a boyfriend or been on a date. It was embarrassing to her that the girl showed no interest in making it happen either, content to focus on school at a time when she should be out networking and socializing with her peers. How else was she ever going to meet the man that would take care of her for the rest of her life?

Sharon had never worked a day outside the home in her life. In all honesty, she never worked too much in the house either. She'd been attending Vassar in her sophomore year when her parents had held a party at their beach house in Nantucket. There she'd been introduced to Jennifer's father, Sam. Sam Waters was a new junior investment banker within her father's firm that he spoke of as having a very bright future. He was almost nine years her senior, and tall with wavy blonde hair. Sam had the type rugged good looks found in men of a more blue-collar nature with the intelligence and polish only found in those with an Ivy League education. She'd decided at that moment that he was the man she intended to marry and had set about making it happen. After all, she always got what she wanted, and as her mother was fond of saying when she told the story, Samuel Waters had been it.

Her Dad had made senior investment banker by the time Jennifer was three and had earned partner by the time she was six. He was a genius with investments. Sam Waters could look beyond the numbers on a prospectus or audit and see the actual value in an investment opportunity. He made those wise enough to seek out his advice significantly wealthier and as a result, earned Sharon the status and esteem she'd always sought outside her parent's last name.

Of course, there had been things about her father that her mother had never accepted or understood, his love of muscle cars and classic rock among them. In her estimation, such things were uncouth and unseemly. And to make matters worse, he had passed on his love of both to his daughter.

And that was her biggest complaint with him, what she referred to as his excessive compulsion to spend time with his daughter. An excessive amount of time that in her opinion, would be better spent with her, socializing with the elite. That hadn't been her father's cup of tea, he could tolerate it if it was a business function or family-related but otherwise preferred to spend his free moments in his garage under the hood of his latest project. Jennifer, of course, his partner in crime, would be beside him as he explained the intricacies of repairing and caring for high-performance engines and chassis. Her mother despised the thought of her daughter, the grease monkey, and it led to some of their biggest fights.

Her father had been the one thing Sharon couldn't bend to her desires through sheer force of will. When all her tantrums and attempts to reason with him on the subject had failed, she finally acquiesced and accepted that she had no further recourse to change his behavior. Jennifer remembered hearing her tell a friend over coffee that her daughter was a hopeless Daddy's girl, and he was inescapably wrapped around his daughter's little finger while she was on the outside looking in. Jennifer had known even then that her mother was only playing the martyr. She had no real interest in spending time with either of them other than in how they could be used to enhance her social status. While her father at least served a purpose with his financial genius, Jennifer, from an early age, had seen herself as nothing more than a social accessory in her mother's eyes. It bothered her at times, but as long as she had her father and his love, it hadn't mattered.

That changed when Jennifer was sixteen. Her father had been out in his garage, working on restoring a classic 64 and a half Ford Mustang when Jennifer and her mother had returned from a shopping trip. Jennifer had hurriedly changed clothes and headed out to the garage to work with her father. She could still remember walking through the side door of the building and hearing the Rolling Stones song Gimme Shelter playing over the sound system her father had installed in the garage. Jennifer stopped when the suddenly nervous girl saw her father's feet sticking out from the front of the car. At first, she thought he was perhaps doing something to the radiator of the vehicle, but something just struck her as being wrong. Without moving from where she stood, Jennifer called his name. When he didn't answer after the second time, her sense of concern overwhelmed the feeling of dread that had frozen her in place; she broke for the front of the car.

When she saw him, she immediately knew he was gone. His eyes were still open but lifeless. It was as if he had been an automaton, and someone had thrown the switch stealing his life force. She could always remember the lyrics Mick Jagger was singing right before she began to scream.

Mmm, the floods are threatening

My very life today, Gimme, gimme shelter

Or I'm going to fade away

She had still been standing over her father's body, screaming when the gardener found them. She vaguely remembers having been whisked away by one of her mother's staff. In her delirium, she remembered hearing bits and pieces of conversation but was unable to hold on to it with certainty. At last, a doctor came, and she was determined to be suffering from shock. He'd given her a sedative to help her sleep; her final thoughts were of how everything would change now.

And changed it had

Chapter 2: Comfortably Numb

The next couple of weeks had been a blur of activity, none of which Jennifer had been remotely interested in taking part in helping prepare. For the first three days after her father's death, she'd been unwilling to leave her room and had barely found the energy to get out of bed. It wasn't until Jennifer's Uncle John, her dad's younger brother, had shown up to talk to her that she'd found the gumption to extract herself from the cocoon that was her bedroom. He'd been the one to tell her that her father had died of a massive brain aneurysm. He'd been there one second and gone the next. He'd assured her that there was little chance he'd suffered and that he'd likely never been aware of what was happening.

Uncle John had taken her right hand and lifted her chin, wiping away the tears running down her cheeks. She could still remember his saying, "He needs you now, Jenn. You were always the most important person in his life, his reason for everything he did from the moment you were born. He always put you first, and now he needs you to temporarily set aside the crippling grief your feeling and see him put to rest. Can you do that for him?"

Of course, that was enough to give her the strength to earnestly promise her Uncle she would see it through to the end.

It had taken everything she had in her, but she'd bathed for the first time in days and put on the clothes her mother had personally picked out for her to wear for her father's viewing. Her mother had fussed over Jennifer's hair going so far as to have a stylist brought in to make sure it looked perfect. Throughout it all, she'd offered no further resistance to her mother's demands. Remembering the promise she made to her Uncle John, she only wanted to be there for her father as he'd always been there for her. Only then did she believe she'd find the peace to be able to grieve in private.

She remembered standing there in the funeral home as one person after another came by to offer their condolences. She gracefully accepted each offer of sympathy while inside, she felt like an empty shell. It was as if some force had hollowed her out, leaving her void. Now, she was the automaton, mechanically going through the motions of a grieving child. She heard very little of the condolences offered her way, merely nodding and thanking the person for coming. The entire experience reminded her of one of her all-time favorite songs by the British band Pink Floyd.

You are only coming through in waves

Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child

I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look, but it was gone

I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown

The dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb.

The viewing was child's play compared to the funeral itself. Instead of keeping things intimate and private the way her father's family encouraged her to, her mother chose to turn it into a spectacle. Samuel Waters was a well respected and highly thought of man both in the business world and on a personal level, so there was little to no surprise that almost two hundred people showed up for the service. Jennifer could still remember the way her mother seemed to feed off the attention she'd received that day, almost basking in the platitudes and common sayings passed her way. Any respect Jennifer had ever had for her mother had died that day.

She spent the final month before her junior year of high-school, hibernating in her room and speaking to no one unless she had to. She had cried herself out in the days that followed her father's death and no longer had any tears to give. She knew that she'd fallen into a depression, but instead of fighting it or seeking help had embraced the emotional poverty, she felt as if it were an old friend.

After token efforts to rouse Jennifer from the funk she was in, her mother seemed to wash her hands of any attempts to help her. Other than making sure that regular meals were sent up to her room and that her linens were regularly changed and her room cleaned, she left Jennifer to her own devices.

Jennifer spent her time reading books from her father's extensive personal library. Absorbing the works that he'd enjoyed with songs, they loved playing in the background, had provided her comfort that got her through the rest of the summer. With just a week left before school started, it was her Uncle John once again who appeared outside her bedroom door looking to make sure she was ready to move on with the rest of her life.

When he'd entered her room, Jennifer had sat back on the bed, her back against the headboard. She'd drawn her long legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, her face just peeking out over the top of her knees. She watched as her Uncle sat on the foot of the bed, looking at her with sad eyes.

"Your Mom says you're not eating very well and seldom leave your room, that you talk to no one unless you absolutely have to, and even then you only give monosyllabic answers. I can see with my own eyes that you've lost weight, and the light in your eyes that your father always spoke fondly of has gone out. I understand that you miss him, but you have to get on with your life. This malaise you're enduring would be the last thing he would want for you. He'd want you to fight Jennifer; you have to know that. What you've had to endure is completely unfair, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. No, I'm not your father, but I do love you, and I refuse to let you sit here and waste away, I owe Sam that much."

The dam holding back her tears broke at his words of encouragement. For the first time since her father's death, she no longer felt like a rudderless boat drifting on an ocean of despair. She launched herself at her uncle, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her head against his broad chest. He returned her hug and kissed the top of her head, soothing her as best he could. When she had finally calmed down, he told her he wanted her to get herself cleaned up and dressed so that he could take her out to dinner, just the two of them. He'd told her anything comfortable and casual would be fine and then headed downstairs to wait for her.

Chapter 3: Sweet Emotion

Instead of taking her to a restaurant as she'd expected, they ended up near her father's office at a small diner wrapped in metal siding. When he saw the look of surprise on Jennifer's face, her Uncle had explained his choice. "This was your father's favorite place to eat. He ate lunch here every day and supper on the nights he had to work late. They got so used to seeing him here that they'd even make sure his favorite booth was reserved every day at noon. It allowed him a view of the park where he could watch kids play as he ate his meals. Despite his stature in the business world, your Dad was at his core, a simple man. Your mother wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, but despite his complex life, Sam always got the most enjoyment out of simple things."

When they'd entered the restaurant, they'd been greeted by a tired-looking middle-aged waitress that had led them to a booth marked with a reserved sign. Jennifer could remember looking up at her Uncle and seeing him nod his head in confirmation. This booth had been her Dad's favorite. She slid into the seat and placed her face against the window surrounding her eyes with her hands to cut down on the glare caused by the diner's overhead lights. Once her eyes adjusted, she could make out the sight of swing sets, slides, and a merry go round. She smiled as she thought of her father sitting here watching as kids played in the sunshine. She could imagine how doing so every day likely relaxed him and allowed him to unwind so he could get through the rest of his day.