The shout barely drowned the background noise of the huge parking area. It was a woman's voice. Its sound rang a bell with me, yet I didn't recognize it right away.
I dropped a bag of corn flakes into the trunk of my Mustang and turned round. The sun shone down on a busy Friday afternoon at the mall. After a moment I spotted the shape of a slender woman who was waving at me. It was Cheryl's mom.
'Hello Mike,' she shouted again.
'Hello, Mrs. Winter,' I answered, briefly waving back at her. For the last three and a half months my thoughts had been circling around the little bitch she'd raised.
Cheryl had walked into my life, twisted me around her little finger and tempted me to think that my fate had eventually entered a happy road. However, she'd left me heartbroken only a few months later.
Mrs. Winter came up to me across the lane of traffic, obviously encouraged by my response. The chance meeting brought back the memories...Cheryl's teasing smile, a mere twitch in the corner of her mouth, when she slid the strap of her top down her shoulder, stripped slowly off her skirt and tights, backed giggling away from me whenever I tried to put my arms around her...until she was naked as a jaybird, breathtaking, charging the atmosphere in the room with her perfume, her sex appeal, and her sheer wanton presence...when she pushed me against a wall or onto the bed and looked me amusedly in the eye while fumbling in my pants for my dick which was hard as bone all along, tickling it with her restless fingers...when she took it into her mouth, licking, kissing, sucking, before finally allowing me to take her luscious body, fuck it, while she was shivering and jerking with her eyes closed, groaning with pleasure, as if disconnected from reality...
Mrs. Winter was slightly smaller and more petite than her more feminine daughter. Also, she wore her brunette hair longer than Cheryl who'd dyed her stylish bob jet-black.
I'd figured her for a determined woman but right now she seemed to be a bit uneasy.
'How are you?' she asked. There was an empathetic tone in her voice.
Mrs. Winter wore sunglasses, blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves hitched up. Cheryl had always teased her about her rustic down-home style.
'I'm fine, thanks,' I muttered, 'and you?'
'Great...or rather,' she took a deep breath, 'not the best...Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. Could you by any chance take a look at my car? I've got an issue with the gear shift.'
She'd always objected to our relationship because of the age difference between me and her little one. I didn't know what's wrong with a twenty-nine years old guy falling in love with a chick ten years younger who was definitely more experienced and dirtier than most of her peers.
The woman in her mid-forties looked pleadingly at me. Her dark glasses reflected my shape.
Without a murmur I shut the trunk lid and walked over to her car. The old Toyota minivan looked as if it was over the hill. I started the engine and tried to go into reverse. It was just as impossible as to engage first gear. Neither with feeling nor with effort I was able to shift gears.
'Looks bad, ma'am,' I said to the woman who'd taken off her glasses, 'I'm sorry, I don't think that I can fix this.'
Cheryl's mom had the same blue-green eyes as her daughter.
'However, I can offer you a lift,' I added when she looked at me in despair.
Only after casting a final look at her broken-down vehicle she took up my offer of help. I parked my car next to hers and we loaded her groceries in my trunk.
I headed slowly for the exit of the parking area. All too soon I was on the familiar road to Cheryl's home again.
'It must've been a difficult time for you,' the woman in the passenger seat looked at me, 'thank you for your help in any case.'
'Never mind, Mrs. Win...'
'I'm Paula.'
'Never mind, Paula.'
She noticed my hesitation when I took her shopping bags out of the trunk.
'Cheryl isn't here. She moved out weeks ago.'
I nodded and continued unloading the car when she asked: 'Would you like a cup of coffee, as a small thank you for your help?'
'Thanks, but I'm afraid I've got to go.'
'Please come in for a moment! It's no trouble at all.'
There was a pleading overtone in her voice and I didn't have the heart to decline the invitation. I carried her bags to the kitchen table and took the beverages to the pantry.
'Please sit down, I'll put it away,' she said, fiddling with her coffee machine. Her movements were jittery and she looked troubled. I gazed at the back pockets of her jeans.
Eventually she passed me a cup of coffee and sat down next to me, just around the corner. Silently I got up, walked around the table, and fetched some milk from the fridge. She blushed.
'How rude of me,' she apologized, looking embarrassed, 'it's just...I'm a bit worn out...It's so quiet here since Cheryl's left her home...'
For a moment there was an awkward silence. I tried to steer the conversation in a less painful direction: 'How's your new job going?'
There was another silence.
'To be honest,' she sighed, 'the company's been downsizing staff. I got fired.'
It couldn't get much worse.
She tried a brave smile and said: 'Well, things didn't go well for me lately, and now there's the car repair on top of it all.'
I kept my opinion about her gearbox damage to myself and laid spontaneously my hand on hers. What had initially been an impulsive gesture seemed quite inappropriate on second thought, given that she was just a distant acquaintance, and to make it even worse, the mom of my ex. I wondered if she'd pull her hand away.
Paula looked down at it but didn't. Unintentionally my thumb brushed the ring on her finger.
'It's from Cheryl's dad,' she explained, jumping at the chance to change the subject, 'he left us when she still was a baby girl.'
She looked strained. Two vertical wrinkles began to show from the wings of her nose to the corners of her mouth but she had an honest face. Little by little I began to see her with different eyes. A tender soul emerged from the dragon that had kept a jealous watch over its beautiful offspring. I felt an affinity between the two of us that went beyond our joint grief about Cheryl having gone.
As if she'd been thinking the same she looked at me and said: 'I'll make us some dinner. Let's see what's in the fridge.'
She got up and rummaged in the refridgerator.
'Darn it,' I heard her swear moments later when she'd dropped an egg.
I walked up to her and laid my hand on her arm. She tried to shake it off but I put the other hand around her waist and steered her back to her chair. She allowed herself to be lead without further opposition.
I cleaned up the mess, checked the supplies in the fridge, and prepared some pasta with fried eggs for the both us. Paula observed me from the kitchen table.
'There's a bottle of wine in the fridge,' she said wearily, 'I could do with a drink.'
I poured some wine into a glass.
'Take one too, please,' she asked.
'No, thank you,' I replied, 'you know I'm driving.'
She insisted on drinking with me, however, and I took a bit too. Hungrily we tucked in. She complimented my cooking and we chatted about this and that. Paula cheered up a bit and even laughed about my little jokes. I'd come to like her.
In next to no time she emptied two glasses of wine. When she got up she was downright tipsy. Giggling she propped herself up on the table.
I rushed to her aid and supported her. She tried another step but was still shaky. Resolutely I pulled her close to me. When she leaned with her back on me I felt her firm body against my hard-on.
On the spur of the moment I put my arm around her waist and raised the other hand to stroke her hair and her cheek. She let it happen in astonishment.
Gently I turned her face towards mine. With a blank expression she looked up at me over her shoulder. When I kissed her she opened her mouth slightly, breathing rapidly. Her lips were rough as if she'd scarcely been using a chapstick.
I placed the other hand on her breasts which were kept safely in the firm cups of an everyday bra under her shirt. She closed her eyes.
Inch by inch I slid my palm down the line of buttons of her shirt, paused shortly at her belt, and increased the pressure of my fingers when I got to her fly.
The farther I got the more she stiffened. She grasped my wrist but didn't stop me from going on. Eventually I had to bend down to reach for her crotch.
The sound she made was the result of anxiety, confusion, and blissful sensation all in one. Fiercely she breathed the odor of the wine into my mouth. I kept on rubbing her pubic mound under the tough seam of denim until a long-drawn groan escaped her. Moments later I sensed a warming of her nether regions through the fabric.
I undid her belt buckle and unbuttoned the jeans. Swiftly I pulled it down, turned her towards the table and bent her over. With my fingertips I stripped her panties from her gorgeous buttocks.