It Started in the Bushes

It Started in the Bushes

Whew, I'd done it again; score one for the "hot" old woman I thought.

OK so I hadn't run a marathon, or a 10K. Alright all I'd really done was to push a double stroller with 2, energetic 2 year olds, who really could have and should have walked the 50 yards from my car to the rubberized playing surface themselves.

That was my workout for this Saturday morning. Besides, I thought as I took the kids out of the stroller and sent them on their way with equal swats on their 2 year old butts; my workout was conducted last night in their father/step-grandfather's bed. My workout plan was perfect for me and it kept me smiling too. I took a seat next to a twenty something blond girl and started watching the antics of my two angels.

"Are those your grand kids?" asked Blondie- blond looking at me.

"One is my grandson," I began, "and the other is my son."

"They look like twins, almost, except, one is a little darker," she said.

"The darker one is my son," I told her. That drew a slightly surprised look.

"They run around without a care in the world, don't they," she said wistfully.

"You seem to be pretty happy yourself though," she said, looking at me.

"I am happy," I said cheerfully, as I looked across the park, for the umpteenth time.

"Well I'm glad someone is," she said. I picked up a hint of sadness in her voice as she said it.

"Aren't you?" I asked, "You're young, you're pretty; you should have the world on a string."

"Don't I wish," she said ruefully, I could tell she was looking over at me out of the corner of her eye.

She was wondering why I was so God damned happy, they all did. I scanned the tree line again and made up my mind; maybe just this once I'd tell someone.

She looked across the park to see what I was looking for. I think she might've seen them before I did, but she didn't know what we were looking for. There was a small group of men running, they would start out at the tree line, and run the 12 mile loop all the way around the lake. The faster ones would finish in a little over an hour; so that was all the time I had to tell her my tale. I didn't think I'd make it because there was so much to tell, but I'd try.

I patted the bench beside me, and she scooted over closer.

"Do you want to know why I'm so happy?" I whispered.

She nodded her head conspiratorially, and inched closer.

"Well, it started a few years ago, right here in this park," I began.

"It started with a blow job in those bushes over there, but I guess I should tell you what led to it," I said.

Her little blue eyes had suddenly ballooned up to the size of saucers, when I mentioned a blow job in the bushes. Boy if she only knew.

"OK, one Saturday, here in the park, I had decided to come out walking with a couple of my friends," I said beginning my narrative.

Actually, they dragged me out of my house, and forced me to come. Let's face it I was depressed.

My marriage was circling the drain, my business was failing, and I was just plain miserable.

I couldn't see why those bitches wanted me to slowly waddle around the park with them, but if it would get them to leave me alone, I'd try it. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't giant sized or anything like that; but I just wasn't taking care of myself so I had put on a few pounds. I also wasn't nearly as tiny as you are, and I probably haven't been since I was fourteen. Nope I've always been a little thick as they say it now. But a lot of men like that, because it brings certain attributes with it.

So there I was, waddling my almost fat ass around the park with the biddies, when we saw them. We all stopped and looked as they ran by, about four or 5 guys in running clothes all sweaty and muscular. The biddies started acting like construction workers, whistling and clapping. A couple of the guys started hamming it up and giving the biddies the thumbs up sign. One of them a short hairy one, actually stopped and mooned us, and then ran and caught up with his group.

You know how dirty women can be when there's no one else around so our conversation as we walked that morning revolved around those runners, and what we'd do with them in different scenarios.

These little dramas ranged from having a singular tryst in a nearby motel, to a full blown gang bang behind the park office. Emily even claimed she'd rather just have an affair with any one of them who was willing, and she was serious. She claimed she'd plan it so her husband never found out, and she'd be able to have her cake and eat it too.

These women had been walking together for a few months before I started with them, and I had to admit their pace was a little bit rough for me. That combined with my depression, and all of the stimulating talk this morning had my mind in the clouds instead of my eyes on the ground.

I rolled my ankle on a loose rock and started to go down hard. Before I made contact with the unyielding concrete surface, I felt 2 hands grabbing my shoulders trying to keep me from falling. My body braced for the impact that was inevitable, but I landed on something relatively softer.

"Good save Darryl!" I heard, and a bunch of whooping and clapping, as the rest of his friends ran by us. They kept going and were soon out of sight.

As I got my wits about me, I noticed that I was lying on one of the runners. It was the quiet one in the front of the pack, who had simply ran faster when the girls started their revelry.

I had no choice but to look at him, as I fumbled around trying to get off of him. He was Black or African-American, whatever they call it these days. He was also substantially more embarrassed than I was.

"Thank you so much," I practically yelled, but then stopped as our eyes met. For what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds, we stared at each other, and we made a connection of some sort. Or at least I did. I wasn't sure whether he felt it or not.

"Anyone would've done it," he said, after he got his wits back.

"Is he crazy?" asked Emily, "I saw it and still don't believe it."

"You started to fall, and we were right next to you," she continued.

"There wasn't time for any of us to grab you," she said.

"But he flew in and tried to catch you, but let's face it, you're not a waif," she said making a wry grin.

"So he scooted under you, so you didn't hit the ground," she said.

"Any one could've done it," she snorted sarcastically," yeah right."

I started to get to my feet and everything was going great until I put my foot down. It hurt like hell when I tried to walk on it.

Darryl sat me back down, and took my shoe and sock off, then looked at my ankle. He had me move it forwards and back and just a little bit side to side. It actually didn't hurt very much when he gently probed the area with his fingers. OK it actually felt so damned good that I wouldn't have remembered any pain. Imagine how pathetic my life had to be, for some stranger's rubbing my ankle to be the most erotic thing I'd had happen to me in nearly a year.

"Well it's not broken," he started, "But you can't put any weight on it."

"We really need to get some ice on this, and wrap it up, as soon as possible," he said seriously.

"How are we going to do that?" asked Betty.

As I think about it, I remembered that Betty was a nurse. Why hadn't she looked at my ankle?

And why was she pissed?

"Well, we have a little bit less than a mile to the parking lot," said Darryl.

"If you'd like, I could carry you," he said.

Emily's eyes got bigger, Betty's eyes got smaller and Pam brought up the truth.

"How are you going to do that?" she asked, "She's kind of bigger than you are."

"Well you're taller but..,"

He stood me up, making sure that I only put pressure on the good foot. Then he got in front of me and bent down slightly. I got the idea and climbed onto his back, and he stood up straight. It was like when I was a kid and my Dad gave me piggy back rides. Then he just started walking. All the way there, he apologized for everything.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of sweaty," he said.

"I'm really sorry, this is probably embarrassing for you," he said.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long," he said.

I'm sorry, my hands are probably making your leg uncomfortable," he said.

I really was uncomfortable, but not the way he thought. Having a muscular man moving between my spread legs was something I hadn't had in a while, and even though we weren't exactly in the correct position, it was affecting me. This alone was strange, because I hadn't been "affected" in over 2 years. My husband was no longer interested in "affecting" me. I was practically humping the poor man's back as he walked.

A lot of what he thought was sweat wasn't, and it was coming from me, not him. I was producing so much juice that I was sure he could probably smell my pussy. At one point I just let my head rest on his shoulder and relaxed and rolled with it.

Almost too soon, we got to my car, Emily opened the door and he put me down on the seat. He had an unused ace bandage and some ice packs in a first aid kit in his car. He ran and came back with them. He put the ice packs around my ankle and then gently wrapped the whole thing up in the ace bandage.

"OK that should hold you until you get to the emergency room," he said then he turned and left.

Betty was fuming, and Emily and Pam were jumping up and down with excitement.

Betty roughly grabbed my ankle, and started trying to get the bandage off.

"Ow, what are you doing?" I asked her.

"Trying to get this off of you, before you get cooties, or aids, or something," she said.

"What?" I said looking at her like she was crazy.

"You know N...," she hesitated "those people carry diseases," she snapped.

"It's a brand new, un opened bandage," said Emily "so even if your retarded 1940's closed minded theory was true, it wouldn't matter."

"Betty, aren't you a nurse?" asked Pam

"Why didn't you wrap her ankle up?" Pam asked.

"Well, because he was all over her," said Betty nervously, "and she obviously liked it."

"Did you see her, laying her head on his shoulder when he was walking?" she said.

"And she never told him no when he offered to carry her either," she said viciously.

"Seems to me, there must've been someone else who could have done it," said Betty.

"Yeah, how about one of the white guys he was running with," said Pam.

"That would've been better wouldn't it Betty?" asked Pam

"Except for the fact that none of them even slowed down, let alone stopped to help," said Emily.

"What about you Betty?" asked Pam "I mean you are a nurse."

"But you just stood there, while he checked her ankle out," added Emily.

"Where you going to carry her for almost a mile on your back?" asked Pam.

"I've got some terrible news for you Betty," said Emily.

"My family, we're Armenians, so maybe you shouldn't have to be around me anymore," Emily said.

"Well, it's worse than that," said Pam pretending not to cry.

"I've been hiding it all these years," she said sniffling.

"Jenkins, is my husband's last name, my maiden name is Rodriguez," Pam continued.

"I guess with my light skin, you never knew I was a "wet back," she said breaking down in mock tears.

"Tell her Alana," said Emily.

"Tell her what, I'm white," I said.

Betty looked at me suspiciously.

"Well OK," I said my voice showing my exasperation "You know me as Alana Sargent, but actually it's Alana Kathryn Morgenstern-Sargent,"

"Morgenstern," said Betty, "you're Jewish?"

"Afraid so," I said, "But don't tell anyone."

Betty looked at all of us and just walked away.

"I can't believe the balls on that bitch," said Emily.

"We'll go to the emergency room with you," said Pam.

"Maybe we'd better take your car though," she said.

"Why?" asked Emily

"Alana, I love you," said Pam," but I don't see me trying to carry your fat ass across the parking lot to my car let alone an entire mile."

All the way to the hospital Pam and Emily talked about Darryl and his friends.

"I want that big blonde one in the head-band," whined Emily

"No stupid, you should take the short dark haired, hairy one with the glasses," snapped Pam.

"Why would I want that dork?" asked Emily," he looks just like my husband."

"Exactly," said Pam, "That way if he gets you pregnant, no one will know the difference."

"Ooh smart," replied Emily, "Alana you have to introduce me to him."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I asked.

"Easy," said Pam, "When you come back to the park to start walking again, you have to thank Darryl."

"That's our in," she said.

"When you go up to him, we'll all be there and we'll meet them," she continued.

"I'll get a chance to see them up close, while they're not moving," she said.

"That'll give me tons of fantasy material to imagine while my husband is throwing me one of his 5 minute fucks ,while he imagines I'm his super-model du jour, and Emily can start being a whore," she said.

"Get it right," said Emily seriously, "Whores have to be paid, I'll be doing it for free, that would make me a slut."

We went to the emergency room, and sure enough, Darryl had been right about my ankle. It wasn't broken and after the x-rays they even re-wrapped it in the same bandage.

"The ice was smart, it kept the swelling down, so you'll be better in no time," said the ER doctor.

Over the next 2 weeks, I thought a lot about that day, mostly at night before I went to bed. During the day I was too busy with other things. I owned a small flower shop, and my business was failing, if things didn't turn around soon, I'd be out of business. My husband had left me 6 months before, just up and ran off with his twenty year old secretary. The note he left said basically that our marriage was slowly killing him. It had sucked the life out of him, and was turning him into someone who wasn't fun, and he didn't want to be that guy. He also told me I could keep everything, which mostly amounted to my shop, which he didn't own any part of, our house, which was mortgaged to the hilt and underwater, my 10 year old Honda, and all of our bills. He said Stephanie was helping him to rediscover himself, after all of the shit I'd put him through over the past 24 years. I was 42 years old, and had married him when I was 18. Stephanie, was 2 years younger than our daughter.

I hadn't told Donna yet that her father had left me, but she'd find out soon enough when she came home. I guess I'd hoped for a while, that he'd come to his senses. But I came to mine first, and filed for divorce, on the grounds of abandonment. For the past 2 years, our life together had been going nowhere any way. It had been nearly that long since we'd had sex, and it wasn't that good then. I couldn't remember when we'd stopped, or why, just that we had. We lived together more like room- mates than lovers, and now my room-mate had moved on.

"So what are you going to say?" asked Emily, "Are you going to stop at just talking?"

"I wouldn't," said Pam, knowing she would.

Of all of us Pam's marriage was the most solid. Sure it had its ups and downs, but it was a good relationship.

"I don't have any idea," I said, "It's really no big deal."

I was lying through my teeth, for the whole time I was away, I had thought of this day a lot. I was actually planning something that was a big step for me. I was going to ask him out for dinner, as my way of thanking him for his help. Not many people would have stopped to try and help, and carrying me for a mile on his back was just ridiculous. As I thought back on it, he could have run back to his car, and came to pick me up but that probably would have taken longer. Taking longer meant me getting ice on my sprain later, and giving it more time to swell. I was sure he had thought about that, and decided on the quickest way to get me to help. So I was very grateful, and although I'd never have admitted it, very horny.

The thing that made it the scariest though, was the fact that even when I was younger and dating, I had never asked a man, or a boy out. They always, had to ask me. I had also never gone out with a person of color, I didn't really care about things like that, but it had just never happened.

The thing that kept going across my mind though, was what if he's married, and his wife wants to kick my ass for asking him out. If I was married to him, and someone had, that is exactly what I'd do.

Then what if he just sad "nah, not gonna do it."

I imagined him turning into the Saturday Night Live- Dana Carvey impression of George Bush, Saying "Not gonna do it."

Why should he accept anyway? He and his friends, even the dorky one, were hot younger guys.

They were in great shape, and very confident. They probably had women lined up just asking them to take them home and fuck their brains out.

So why would he want to have dinner with some 42 year old, soon to be divorced, flower store owner, who wasn't in great shape, had an overly large ass, sagging breasts and also had emotional problems and self esteem issues.

Pam handed me a condom, I looked at it, and then her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Take him behind the office, that's where all the teenagers go," she said.

"And remember, you're doing it for all of us," said Emily.

So, we walked over to where the guys were getting ready to run. It was like being in the stands near the starting gate at a horse race. No scratch that, it was like being in the woods, near a herd of deer. We got closer and closer. Soon we were close enough to hear them talking and laughing. Then as soon as we were almost on them, with no apparent signal or reason they just started running, and then they were gone.

The parking lot, just seconds ago, had been full of testosterone and laughter, now it was empty. It was like an empty beer can, once filled with golden goodness, now it had no purpose. Well, the parking lot did have a purpose actually; it's where we parked our cars.

I thought about that then, our cars, the girls' and mine matched us; they were older, dependable transportation. The guys' cars on the other hand were newer, faster, and impractical as hell. I saw a new Camaro, in candy apple red, a black Dodge Challenger, with ridiculous chrome wheels, and the bright Yellow Mustang GT that I knew belonged to Darryl. "We" were what didn't have a purpose.

We just looked at each other, 3 forty-something housewives, wearing enough makeup for a starring role on Broadway, standing in an empty parking lot. We were so disappointed that we almost forgot that we'd come here to walk. I had on a spandex-like top that was strong enough to hold in my oversized boobs, it was one of those "lift and separate" things. I had matching shorts, that almost showed the circles of my ass cheeks. I was also wearing one of those giant rubber bands around my waist, that are supposed to burn fat around your abs. In my case burn fat around my flab. The whole effect made me look like a cross between an old tired Jane Fonda, and a dominatrix. As we started walking, and sweating, our eye make-up ran and gave us that raccoon look. We looked very sexy indeed, I thought sarcastically.

"Guys sure can fuck up a good thing," said Emily in a dejected voice.

After walking the first mile of the 3 mile loop my ankle started to hurt a little. It started out as just a bit of discomfort, and steadily grew until I was having trouble walking, so I told the girls I'd slow down and meet them back at the parking lot. They replied with sullen nods, and I could tell that we had dropped from the lofty heights of forbidden lust, to the doldrums of shattered dreams. As I sat down to rest for a bit I heard a clip clopping sound and as I looked up my mouth dropped open. It was Darryl running towards me. He saw me sitting there on the curb holding my now throbbing ankle, and slowed down as he approached.