A Room with a View

This is an adult story about how a younger divorced man and an older widowed woman begin life anew through a chance meeting. Throughout the years, I have read many of the excellent authors on this site, and have truly enjoyed many of your creative talents. Most of my work deals with couples meeting by chance and eventually coupling, so they're not "short stories" per say. Although I have written many stories that are shorter, this one could easily empty your ink cartridge should you decide to print it out and read it off screen.

If there are any minor children around, please make sure they're not reading adult material. That being said, if you feel up to it, please grab yourself a cup of hot coffee, or whatever it is you enjoy drinking while you read, sit back and relax and hopefully you'll enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. Also, feel free to leave your valued comments, as they are welcomed and will help sharpen my writing skills.

Respectfully submitted,

Solitary Sentential

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A Room with a View

A younger man discovers more than nature's splendor with an older woman.

Unfortunately, like many divorcing couples even after being married for fifteen years, it too, ended up becoming a nasty and bitter one, as they usually do. This always seems to hold true, especially whenever the sharks are feasting feverishly upon raw flesh. The once so-called loving ex-wife got full custody of our teenage children. She somehow even managed to retain sole ownership of the primary house we had lived and raised our children in. It was also ordered in the Divorce Decree that she was entitled to collect half of the money received from selling my rental investment property, which I owned outright prior to even meeting or knowing her. Adding a final insult to injury, a so-called unbiased judge, further ordered that she receive more than half of my hard earned paycheck every month, or at the very least, until the children moved out or they finished college.

With my income getting drastically slashed, attorney and court fees which had spiraled out of control, I knew expenses had to be scaled way back. In order to survive financially, I would have to move alittle closer to where I worked to keep my head above water. The divorce took approximately two years to become finalized, and slightly longer to try and regain some normalcy in my life.

It was during that turbulent time in my life, that the company I worked for was opening a brand-new big box retail store, in the upper northwest. But, it wasn't going to be ready for occupancy for another year even after my divorce had been finalized. They offered the coveted position of Regional District Manager to me, once that store and two other expansive stores being built in the tri-state area were ready and opened for business.

Mr. Warner, who was my immediate boss sweetened the company's proposition by revealing they would cover all direct related moving expenses, that is, if I were willing to pack up my belongings, and move across the country to Washington State. It also meant, I'd have alot more disposal income in my bank account, which was a generous offer on the company's part. After everything I had gone through, I knew I would need that extra cash in order to begin the process of replenishing all the necessary household furniture and products that vanished in the divorce, and start anew when I moved west.

Although at first, I was somewhat reluctant to accept the advantageous position. But, after speaking with family members, close friends, and weighed all my options while mulling it over for a couple of days, I readily accepted the exceptional opportunity. It also helped knowing that my children were nearly of legal age to move out on their own, or explore going straight to college should they choose, which would further enhance their possibilities to make a decent living. Of course, talking it over with my aging parents, also allowed me to make the distinction between staying close to them, or venturing out to the great northwest to start over, and I decisively said. "What the heck mom and dad, I might as well shoot for the stars again." They readily agreed.

Knowing the time had long since past to move on with my life, and I figured there were jet planes that traveled back and forth across our great land to allow me to visit with and spend quality time with my children, and my aging parents whenever I could also helped make the decision to move alot easier. My supportive parents told me that until I moved, my old room was still available. Although I loved them, and we got along terrific, I couldn't bring myself to live under their roof again until I moved west.

Being conscious of my financial limitations, I asked everyone I knew well enough at work, and around the area if they knew about an apartment or spacious room for rent locally or somewhere with alittle private space temporary. The most important criteria I required was it had to be close enough to the company where I could easily travel back and forth and hang my hat in solace until the following year rolled around. Regrettably, everyone I spoke with including within the reputable real estate property management industry either wanted me to sign a legally binding, non-transferable twelve-month lease agreement, or they wanted too much money for a month-to-month lease, than I was willing to relinquish for any of the available apartments they were offering in the area.

Time was rapidly running out, and it became even more apparent after an early Monday morning spring meeting with my ex-wife's attorney, in his downtown shark infested office. I was instructed that I had less than thirty days to vacant my rental property, and get it sold. She informed him that she was moving down south near her older sister with the children, and she wanted everything resolved before they left the state.

As he continued listing the outrageous demands, I seriously began to entertain the idea of living with my aging parents. On the plus side, I'd have quite a few extra thousand dollars to spend when I moved. After his raspy voice finally faded away into oblivion, I threw my hands in the air in absolute disbelief. I told her impetuous attorney that he was a real piece of work, and that I hoped that he and his blood sucking staff of thieves choked on all the money they received from my once thriving bank account.

"Mr. Brock," he said as he reached for my hand to shake it. "Surely you must understand that it's my sworn duty to look out for the best interest of my client? Hopefully there are no hard feelings between us?"

"Mr. Bernstein, you know, there's not a chance in this lifetime or the next you filthy sleaze bucket, that you'll receive any redemption! It's buttheads like you that give the human race a bad name!" I brashly said aloud as I abruptly turned to leave his unappealing office. "Get the hell out of my way right now, before I drop you like a bad habit!"

He instantly lowered his extended arm and hand and quickly stepped aside. Hastily I made my way past him and pushed through the full-length, etched plated glass door, and out of his rented office while grumbling aloud. Hoping on the empty elevator, I crushed the plastic button that led down to the parking garage. Knowing full well it would lead to my car and I'd leave the sharks' abyss, and get to a more relaxing environment in order to lick my wounds. The ride down seemed to take forever. Before the maple oak, veneered paneled doors fully opened; I bolted out of the elevator faster than the egocentric judge who slammed his gavel down upon the solid oak desk, sealing the quandary.

After navigating through the challenging morning traffic on the drive across town to my rental property, I was able to ultimately gather my composure. Turning down the busy one way street, and then quickly turning left onto the asphalt-paved driveway that I had just repaired, I definitely recognized that time was of the essence. Hoping out of the car, I reluctantly approached the front door and slid the only house key left in my possession into the lock, unlocked it, and then pushed the solid oak paneled door wide open. Reality immediately smacked me in the face, as I impatiently gazed into the sparsely decorated living room. Before stepping across the threshold, a moment of reflection was needed to collect my thoughts, and quickly I focused on and then determinedly settled into what was once my favorite easy chair, which I knew would soon be donated to the local Salvation Army.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, as I was drinking a tepid cup of coffee that I bought at the local convenient 7-Eleven store before arriving at my place. Unraveling the free folded newspaper that accompanied the cup of coffee, I began to scrutinize through the want ads in the hope of finding somewhere decent to rest my weary bones after work, that was not only furnished, but also within my newly restrained budget. Sipping on the remaining remnants of muddy water and melted sugar from the bottom of the Styrofoam cup, my weary eyes continued to analyze through the seemingly endless maze of real estate ads, and tightly woven columns of useless property rentals.

It was just about the time when I was ready to toss the furrowed newspaper on the floor beside the easy chair and close my eyes for a powernap, I inadvertently stumbled upon an interesting ad for a completely refurbished room for rent with an inspiring view of nature's many splendors. It was alittle pricey, but it was easily within walking distance to where I was working. The ad mentioned that the home was situated on a spacious lot, nestled upon the farthest reaches off a quiet private road and cul-de-sac, which led to the home. Furthermore, that there was a brand-new box spring and mattress set, and neutral carpeting installed in the room.

It also stated that it had complete privacy, with usage of the accompanying furniture, family room, and there were new household appliances, including a washer and dryer. In the last sentence of the ad, it declared there was also an entrance to the room from the rear of the home, and a generous covered parking area. The down side was although it had private bathing privileges; the bathroom was connected to it via crossing through a common laundry and workout room, which was a few feet away from a secondary interior entrance to the private room.

Nevertheless, it was still an appealing ad, and I decided it was well worth making the call. Hopefully it would assist in my effort to find out everything I could about this room for rent with a panoramic view. Trying not to drop the flimsy cup in my lap, I picked up the telephone, and dialed the published number. On the fourth ring, a soft-spoken, courteous woman answered the telephone. Promptly I introduced myself, and then politely asked if she knew anything at all about the room that was published in the local Crestview Heights newspaper, and whether or not it was still available.

"Mr. Brock, yes, it's still available," she pleasantly answered. "Thankfully I haven't reached the point of total senility yet," she chuckled lightly into the receiver. "Fortunately for you, I know all there is about the room for rent. Afterall, I am the owner of the home."

Momentarily chuckling myself at her delightful sense of humor, we continued speaking about her home, and the listed and non-listed accommodations she was willing to allow a renter to utilize. Surprisingly, within a few minutes, she began to embark down a different path, and she started asking what could easily be considered very personal questions. Before I could speak into the receiver to respond, she roughly said, "Mr. Brock, I what you to know that I will not barter for any rent concessions nor food, should you help out around the house."

Swiftly I assured her that my current job was more than adequate enough to cover the needed security deposit, and make the rental payments required on time. Nor would I seek or want any discount from her; should I willingly volunteer with any chores around her home. Without hesitation, I also added that I intended to eat out, and not burden her with doing my laundry or preparing any unnecessary meals on my behalf.

"Mr. Brock, if I find out that you've misspoken," she quickly avowed. "I will have you leave my home before you can settle in."

"Mrs. Littleton, let me assure you, one thing I do not do is misspeak." I replied confidently. "Please, feel free to ask any question, and of course, I will answer you as truthfully as I can about my current situation."

"That's a fair enough answer, Mr. Brock," she replied without reluctance. "One of my biggest concerns is that the person whom I allow to move into my private home has their head firmly attached to their shoulders."

"Mrs. Littleton, if you're really worried about my head being firmly attached," I said lightly laughing into the telephone. "Well, you can rest assure that I've had a certified mechanic tighten all the loose bolts on my last check-up."

Her contagious congenial laughter was clearly audible as she chuckled repeatedly into the receiver that was pressed tightly against my ear as I listened attentively to every word. We continued bantering with each other nonchalantly many times during our limited conversation. Even by using the telephone, it became quite obvious within the first fifteen minutes or so that we were likeminded adults. I knew we could easily amalgamate effortlessly together should we choose to meet in person. Shortly after addressing a few of our concerns, we scheduled an appointment at a mutual convenient time for a Wednesday morning meeting, so she could show the rental room and the enticing amenities she was offering.

Simultaneously we thanked each other for being open on the telephone. "Mrs. Littleton, you're welcome." I gently replied. "It truly was a pleasure speaking with you. Thanks again for taking such an early morning call, and for sharing your valuable time. I'll safeguard the necessary directions that I'll need to find your home for our meeting. Again Mrs. Littleton, I must thank you. I am genuinely looking forward to meeting you in person."

"Mr. Brock, you are so very welcome. It was such an enjoyable conversation, and I look forward to meeting with you on Wednesday, too. I'll see you at nine o'clock sharp!" She exclaimed in an excited voice. "Please, do be on time. I have a doctor's appointment at eleven o'clock, and I cannot be late. Goodbye Mr. Brock." Before I could respond, the telephone went silent.

After pulling my Tuesday graveyard shift, I hastily drove back to my place, showered, shaved and changed into a pair of light brown relaxing kaki pants, and wore a matching sweater since it was still a bit chilly outside in the early spring morning. With the hunger pangs of my stomach pleading for reprieve, I dropped by the local bakery shop near my place and purchased a few donuts for the ride across town. In an effort not to dribble too many crumbs on my clean clothes, I reached over and took the crumpled leather coat resting on the passenger seat, covered my lap and drove the forty-five minutes it took to reach the proper address she supplied. Somehow I managed to take the wrong exit ramp the first time, which added an additional fifteen minutes to my early morning journey across town. Thankfully I wasn't late!

Turning slowly onto the private pristine cul-de-sac, my eyes were immediately drawn to an expansive home rising valiantly out of the earth. It stood stridently about a quarter of a mile existing in complete harmony with its natural surroundings accessible only by passing through the main, massive arched and iron entrance guarding it. There were a few smaller homes resting comfortably on either side of the paved narrow roadway, but none of them could ever challenge the magnetism or strength of the secluded solitary sentential, standing proud and firm in its isolated community.

Even from that distance, I could clearly see the spectacular home and its sprawling, wraparound porches that gave the decking the shelter necessary it would need from any storm that would pass by. And, the well-manicured lawns further impressed upon me the excellent care that this vibrant home has been given during its existence. With the multiple assemblage of towering oak, maple and pine trees, would also give the receptive home its much-needed shade, particularly during the sweltering summer months that would be beating down upon the expansive home and manicured lawns in just a few short months.

The rubber of my uninterested tires leisurely embraced the old-fashioned cobblestone driveway, as my wondering eyes were completely fixated upon the tranquil scenery surrounding the splendid home as I gradually passed underneath the towering, arched brick and iron entrance. There were hedges, shrubbery and flowerbeds of many shapes, sizes and colors strategically positioned around the spacious pastoral lot. The vibrant motif marinated and danced peacefully along with the early morning breeze and rising sun. Remembering that Mrs. Littleton asked me to park my vehicle in the rear of the driveway, I steadily inched it forward until I found the end of the yellow brick road. The rear of the home and surrounding foliage was just as impressive as the rest of the lot, if not more.

My weary soul impetuously tried to soak in all of the stunning beauty that surrounded the exquisite home before turning off the engine. Not wanting to seem too absorbed, I promptly turned the engine off, and stepped out of the car. Within moments of reaching the hood of the car, I saw whom I believed to be Mrs. Littleton. She was already out the rear door, gracefully standing on the light teal colored, painted rear porch, waving her tiny hand. She was motioning for me to join her on the covered porch. Her long hair was gently flowing freely with the early morning breeze. In return, I momentarily raised my arm, waved while saying, "top of the morning to you, Mrs. Littleton."

Deliberately I marched towards her, as my smile widen further with each determined step. Although I must add, I was pleasantly surprised when she greeted me warmly on the back porch. My weary spirit rose rapidly, as I admired her relentless pleasing smile, and fabulous figure while I advanced closer. She looked to be in her late forties, yet on the telephone, she sounded alot younger. With each steadfast stride bringing us closer together, I desperately tried to inhale the incredible amiability of her intoxicating beauty. Reaching the top step, she warmly moved closer, extended her dainty hand and formally introduced herself as we exchanged pleasantries.

After a brief moment, she graciously invited me to enter her spectacular home, which led us directly into the spacious kitchen. It and her were absolutely astonishing. We chatted for a few minutes near the round, glass table, while I admired the soft-spoken words that generously flowed from her full, sultry lips. Her malleable beautiful blue eyes and shapely form held me breathless in total appreciation of how well she had taken care of herself through the years.

Her bustling eyes lit up as she asked me to follow her towards the room. Taking charge, she promptly guided us towards the southwest corner on the other side of the back of the house where she said it was nestled. She said it could be mine, as we began our jubilated journey. My eyes were entirely transfixed on her every movement. Her vivacious hips swayed gingerly back and forth like a pendulum comfortably keeping pace with time. Her captivating cushion although safely guarded inside its makeshift cocoon of denim cotton jeans embracing it, was clearly visible to my engrossed eyes.

It was extremely difficult keeping my mind listening to her soothing voice speak as her fabulous form commanded more attention from my eyes than my ears. We reached an open door to the sanctioned room, and once I caught a glimpse of it, I knew right away that it would be an exceptional place to rest my weary soul. Before we crossed through the doorway, she reached her right arm out and pointed down the length of the combined highly polished hardwood floor, and carpeted hallway saying that's where a common entrance to the accompanying bathroom was situated, but it could be locked from the inside if it was necessary.