Of all the many tales that came out of Oakshire over the years, the one that involved a college lacrosse player and his sexy older neighbor, is arguably the most compelling.
Oakshire was a sub-division in the pre-World War Two development of upper-middleclass Oakridge. The Ridge, as some had called it early on, was on the urban fringes of Baltimore. In square footage, the houses paled beside the suburban McMansions that sprang up years later. Still, they were substantial for the times, three to four bedroom, two-bath abodes that sat on lawns big enough for games like badminton, with enough space left over for additions that residents began to add on when Eisenhower was president.
It was Richard Nixon, Eisenhower's VP, that was president when Jerry Blake, the lacrosse player, and Mary Kay Dresner, his next-door neighbor, had a frank discussion in Mary Kay's house one hot spring, Saturday afternoon. Albert, Mary Kay's hubby, and Kenneth, their seven-year-old son, were at Kenneth's spring league soccer game. Mary Kay had just returned home from shopping when she spotted a shorts-wearing, shirtless Jerry, lacrosse stick in hand, shooting balls against a stone wall that divided the two houses. "You look like you could go for a cold drink," she said.
Jerry bobbled the ball in the net of his lacrosse stick, looked up and said, "Right on."
In fact, Jerry had been thinking of heading into his own house before Mary Kay's offer. But why do that when a hot, sexy older woman had just offered him the same thing? Jerry had had his dark brown eyes on Mary Kay Dresner soon after the hormones of early puberty began to roar. He wasn't normally attracted to strawberry blonds; Mary Kay was one of those rare exceptions. She wasn't all freckled as some with that pigment tended to be. In fact, she was an older cutie with a face that had a glowing sheen to it and a smile that brought out her fine cheek bones. She looked great in what she wore, a short white and yellow print sun dress and platform shoes. There were women pushing forty that shouldn't wear dresses that short, but Mary Kay wasn't one of them. So yeah, he could go for a glass of iced tea or whatever his thoughtful neighbor might serve.
The attraction Jerry developed for Mary Kay went two-ways. She had watched him grow from a cute young teen into a hunk of a young man, athletic and handsome, the kind of guy, regardless of age, that she knew could seduce her in minutes if she let him. She found those dark, penetrating eyes of his and that mane of wavy, dark brown hair, worn parted nearly in the middle and down to his earlobes, irresistibly sexy. His legs, muscular and hairy, his broad shoulders, and well-defined chest and ab muscles, didn't hurt either. He was the proverbial boy next door, although in Mary Kay's mind, there was nothing proverbial about him.
Jerry grabbed his T-shirt, slid it over his five-foot-ten-inch frame, and then followed Mary Kay into her house. "Ah, that feels so good," he said, referring to the cool air blowing through the living room from the big AC window unit.
"I imagine it does," she said, "as hot as you looked playing outside."
He nodded, thinking it was Mary Kay who looked hot, and he didn't mean her temperature. He followed her into the kitchen, took a seat on one of the four wood chairs around her white Linoleum table and watched her bend over to retrieve a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, barely able to control himself from saying what he would say had he been less mannered. Perhaps she knew, he thought, for she was standing in front of him, pitcher in hand, grinning as if she knew what salacious thoughts lurked inside him.
In fact, she did know, or at least had an idea, one reinforced through years of being gawked at and hit on. Albert, eleven years her senior, was one of those who did. She married him shortly after college. She had never been unfaithful and didn't intend to start now, though she adored the attention and had to admit that she got aroused at the prospect of seducing this young buck sitting in her kitchen. She was in a marriage that had become ho-hum to the point of borrr-ing. She had no immediate plans to leave the marriage, though the idea was never far from her thoughts. Albert provided a good living--he was senior partner in an accounting firm. She loved him, though she couldn't remember ever being "in love" with him. They still had sex. Not often and only when he wanted to and that was okay with her because he never did much for her in the bedroom anyway. In other words, she was looking for or at least fantasizing about the sort of excitement that she knew could get her into trouble, that could possibly destroy her marriage.
Jerry didn't know how Mary Kay felt about her marriage. But he did get the sense that she was interested in him on some level, asking him about college, his lacrosse and even his dating status. He didn't have a steady girlfriend but thought that if Mary Kay wasn't married, age difference be dammed, he could go for a woman who looked like Mary Kay, with her big, blue eyes, cute smile and adorable hairdo, set with bangs that stretched just above her eyebrows and curled in back just shy of her shoulders. Cute wasn't a word he normally ascribed to women Mary Kay's age, except that's how he saw her, despite the few lines that were beginning to crinkle around her eyes. And that derriere of hers, so curvaceously cute that no guy, including himself, could resist gawking when she swished by.
Her smile brought out those age lines, smiling as she was doing right now, while he talked about himself. "I didn't know you were that interested in lacrosse," he said.
"Well, I'm interested in YOU," she revealed. "I've kind of watched you grow up. And here you are in college. Time flies. That really hits home when, like me, you approach middle-age. You'll see."
He took her word for it. But reaching middle-age couldn't have been further from his mind. It all seemed so abstract, so in the future. His focus was on his sexy neighbor, with her legs crossed, her dress riding three-quarters up her tan thighs, her low-cut top exposing lots of cleavage, giving him a welcome that he sensed--or at least hoped--had more to do than just being served a cold drink. Jerry wasn't naïve when it came to sex--he'd had a couple long-term relationships and a few quick affairs. But they were with single girls around his age, not married women pushing forty. If Mary Kay wanted to engage in something beyond superficial conversation, he wouldn't, as the cliché went, kick her out of bed.
But would she? Putting a "feeler" out, he said, "Not to get too personal, Mrs. Dresner, but you look great for a woman nearing middle-age. Any age, really."
She patted his knee. "Thanks, I appreciate that. And, if you don't feel uncomfortable, call me Mary Kay."
He nodded. "That's cool. I'd like that." He wondered when Albert Dresner and Kenneth would return home. He pictured them coming in and catching himself and her in the bedroom, humping away. Fantasies, fantasies.
She had fantasies of her own. Damn right she did. She wasn't the type of person who lived by consequences be dammed, the type that threw caution to the wind. Yet, she wasn't beyond acting on impulse either, and at this moment, she felt that her impulsive side was getting the better of her rational side. She leaned forward in her chair and drew a mischievous look. "Jerry, not to be presumptuous, but I get the sense that we might be on the same wavelength."
He thought they might be also, but wanted to be sure. "Same wavelength as in..." He wanted her to fill in the blanks.
She chuckled. "I don't think I need to spell it out. But let me just say that if I was single and around your age, we might be dating by now." She scooted her chair closer to his. "Look, I'll be blunt. Without giving too much away, my marriage leaves a lot to be desired. I've never cheated on Albert and as far as I know, he's never cheated on me. I didn't intend to start by calling you in here. However, now that you're here...well, honestly, I find it tempting."
