Frog

Hi everyone.

I´m putting this story in the category "Mature". It is officially described as "spring meets autumn". Well, this story is more like "autumn meets winter" and if that grosses you out, you are hereby warned.

Most of my stories are connected. Manfred is Dr Walrus, a minor character in "Mate", and Stella has a bit-part in "The Meaning of Life". There´s no need to read those stories to enjoy this one.

I hope you do. Enjoy it, that is.

Risgrynsfisk

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FROG

PART 1 - FROZEN

It was okay. Or at least, not too bad. The days went by and only a few of them were unbearable. I took walks, kept fit. My appetite was not very good, but I needed to lose some weight anyway. I missed her, of course, this was not how it was supposed to be. Best laid plans and so on. The funeral was terrible, selling the house was terrible, getting rid of her things was terrible, scrapping the dreams of growing old together was the most terrible of all.

But then...not terrible, except occasionally. I took walks, kept fit, lost a bit of excess weight. I had a lot of interesting books I did not read. I told the kids I was fine. I didn´t want them to worry, didn´t want to be a burden. Maybe I should get a dog.

Not terrible, but boring. Nothing worth watching on the telly, exercising my thumb changing channels, keeping it fit. Reading half a page halfway into an interesting book. I could go back to work, part time, but my heart wasn´t in it. A dog would be company.

Did I want company? Most people were just mildly annoying, quite a few very annoying. But a dog might cheer me up by not trying to cheer me up, like the annoying people did. I often pretended to be cheered, trying to be an un-burden, but that was a lot of work and my heart was not in it. I kept to myself, took walks, was fine. A dog would walk with me and not talk but just be happy to be with me.

I slept okay and did not dream. That was good. I should count my blessings. I slept well, one. Fit and lost weight, two. Not a burden, three. Financially secure, four. Nice kids (if far away), five. Good memories, six. If I got a dog there´d be seven, which is a number of power in many cultures. Perhaps not in my culture, we don´t have much in the way of powerful numbers. Perhaps we don't have much in the way of culture either, apart from all those omnipresent unread interesting books.

Time went by. I didn´t seem to have the initiative to get me that dog, but I went for my walks, was a not-burden, was fine and fit. I did not cry, not since the terrible funeral. I was fine. Until I saw that frog on the telly.

I was watching or not-watching as usual, keeping my remote control thumb fit, and this program about Alaskan wild-life turned up. I watched and not-watched it for a while, and winter was coming like winter does in Alaska. There was this frog that let himself get frozen to a frog-shaped lump of ice, frozen all the way through, then just sat there, frozen, under the snow, waiting for spring.

For some reason this caught my attention. I wanted to see what happened. I watched wolves liking the snow and moose disliking it and beavers doing their beaver-stuff under the ice until spring came and the frog thawed. You could see ice-crystals becoming frog-skin and the ice disappearing from his eye-balls. Then he just moved on, back to his frog-life as though nothing had happened, but probably it was not that easy because apparently some frogs did not survive. But this frog did and to my great surprise I found that I was crying.

I went swimming, I do that sometimes, good way of keeping fit and not think too much. Good way to meet people, chatting in the sauna after the swim except I avoided the sauna since I didn't want to meet people, didn't want to talk to anybody. This time I lost count of my laps. I usually swim one kilometer, twenty laps, but this time I just swam, lap after lap, realizing after a while that I was crying again. I kept swimming since my tears were invisible in the water. Not make a spectacle of myself, not be a burden. I swam on, getting fitter by the minute, lap after lap. Three kilometers? Four?

This was a good analogy of my present life, I felt; to be meaninglessly swimming back and forth, getting nowhere. Other people were just obstacles to be avoided while swimming or walking and in life in general. Dog, maybe?

Look, I am not stupid, okay? I knew about mourning, and the various paths a person´s sorrow can take. I am, or was, a doctor after all; plenty of grief and mourning there. And I was capable of taking a step back and think about myself and my reactions. I knew my mourning was entering a new stage now, one that would be more painful than the previous, frozen, one. And I also knew that this was good. It probably was more painful to the frog to get thawed out than getting frozen, but he didn´t whine about it. Neither would I!

PART 2 - THAWING

Except I did whine, but only to myself. There was a lot of wallowing in self-pity, a lot of shaking my fist at the uncaring sky. I still went for long walks, but I was more aware of my surroundings now. A beautiful sunset could make me cry, a young couple kissing could make me cry, women reminding me of her bloody well always made me cry. Still no dog.

One day there was a knock on my door. It was my next-door neighbor, Viktoria. I can´t say I knew her, although I had lived in the flat for half a year. At my age time flies fast whether you´re having fun or not. But she seemed to be a stylish lady, always well dressed and with a dramatic but elegant make-up. Older than me, impossible to say by how much, but quite a bit. The older you get the less do the number of years you have lived matter and the reverse is true for how you have lived those years. An eighty-year old can easily be younger than someone who´s seventy.

"Manfred," she said, "I am here to ask of you a favor."

"Viktoria, ask and receive! Unless I say no, of course."

"Manfred, I know I don't look it, but I am beginning to grow old."

"The greater feat to look as ravishing as you do."

"Flatterer! I have observed, young man, that you go for substantial walks every day, which if I may say so, has resulted in a most fetching improvement in these months. You are keeping fit!"

"It seems I am not the only flatterer here. What service can I do you then, fair lady?"

"I wonder if you could bring my dog on some of your walks. I am still capable of, and indeed enjoy, taking shorter walks with my Copernicus, but he needs more strenuous exercise than what I can provide."

"With pleasure, Viktoria. I have indeed been of mind to purchase a dog but I have procrastinated. Now it seems I procrastinated for a reason. Copernicus is a most sonorous name for a dog."

"I have this tradition of naming my dogs for the scientist they look most like. My last dog was called Isaac Newton, a cocker spaniel. Copernicus is a small poodle, he looks just like some pictures of Copernicus when he has curly hair."

"It would be a pleasure to make the acquaintance of Copernicus, and I will be glad for his company."

"You can call him Copper. Loudly so if there are police around."

"I´ll just grab a sandwich, then I´ll be ready for a walk."

"A sandwich indeed. You need a proper lunch. Come on. You and Copper must get to know each other, too."

Viktoria´s door was opened and a black poodle and a wonderful garlicky fish-smell competed in trying to fill the whole stairway. I suppose the aroma won, but not by much; the black little creature seemed to be everywhere at once, bouncing between the walls. I finally found myself sitting on the floor with Copper in my lap, being doggy-kissed thoroughly and apparently crying a little again.

"Ah, the beauty of young love," Viktoria said. "Now; get up, get in and get fed. Fish-soup, my own un-recipe." She shook her head at her dog, which was still in bouncing-mode. "As you can see he needs your walking prowess badly."

The soup was wonderful and Viktoria was a most entertaining host. She amused herself (and me as well) by flirting outrageously, asking if I wanted to get paid in blowjobs.

"This is an opportunity not to be missed," she insisted. "Seventy years experience!"

"Are you as old as seventy, Viktoria? That is hard to believe."

"Ha, I did a lot of sucking as a baby, but no dicks I hope. I am eighty-five, but my blowjobs are better than ever, particularly when I take out my teeth. And a handsome young hunk such as you would provide the inspiration for a masterpiece."

I couldn´t help but be a little flattered. I had not been called a hunk for the last twenty years. All in all the lunch was a thawing-further experience; good food, entertaining conversation and a bit of doggy-love. Now, the walk.

Copper was a very nice walking-companion. He was not trained at all and was prone to rushing off at all times to investigate some fascinating aspect of this fascinating world; the smell of dog-pee, a butterfly, a thrown glove; he handling its challenge by peeing on it. He helped me by his example; there was a big and fascinating world out there, worthy of enthusiasm. Thawing, thawing.

Towards the end of our walk Copper´s enthusiasm was no longer at all as explosive, and he was happy to be back home. He gave Viktoria two licks and collapsed. I and Viktoria had coffee and some delicious pastries she had made.

"Spoiling me, you are," I said.

"I´m the Yoda of this swamp, young paladin. You may have been most imposing as a doctor, (yes I have been your patient, no reason for you to remember), but when it comes to living -- and I do mean Living -- in retirement and alone, then I am past master and you but a humble beginner."

"Make me the vessel of thy teaching, then."

"The first, most important thing to remember is this; there is nothing to fear anymore. You don't have to worry about what people at work that you don't like will think of you, you don't have to give a fuck what the neighbors think unless you want to, you have the license to behave just about any way you want as long as you do it with style. You´re old, you will die soon, nothing bloody matters, and that is freedom. People ask me if I am afraid. Of death or hooligans or whatever. I have never been so unafraid in my life and that offer of a blowjob is still good."

"I have already kissed on the first date, that will have to be enough for now."

"Kissed Copper, not me. Coward!"

"At least I will be brave enough to come get Copper tomorrow."

"Any time, as long as it is after eleven; we like to sleep long, Copernicus and me."

Back home I suddenly saw that my apartment was very untidy, even filthy. That was not me at all. I hadn't even noticed before, but now I came, saw and conquered, hoover in hand, the Brandenburg Concertos really loud. Then I cried over photos of her. Kept on thawing.

PART 3 -- JUMPING ABOUT

Next day Copper greeted me with that almost insane happiness only dogs are capable of. Dogs are not cool, which is one of many reasons we emotionally constipated humans feel safe enough to love them back. Copper and I went for our walk. We walked the face of this gigantic Earth like lice with leash and I-phone.

I found that having a dog was a good way to meet chicks, or hens I guess, quite a few winsome ladies with dogs and fitting ages wanted to talk while our dogs talked in their fashion, skipping inanities like weather and stuff, starting off with essentials like sniffing each other´s bottoms. Many of the ladies were attractive but none was as fun to talk to as Viktoria.

We had most of our meals together by now, most often at her place since she was far away the best cook of us two. I proudly told her about my kids, who were not kids anymore but still kids to me. My daughter would soon be a mother for the first time, and I´d be a grandfather. Downside was, she and her fellow lived in Gothenburg. My son and his fellow lived in Stockholm now, and I supposed I would stay here in between.

Viktoria´s son had recently moved to the countryside and they saw less of each other now. But her granddaughter, Stella, visited her regularly; a blonde bombshell who worked in a bank. We had met once and Viktoria had bragged outrageously about me, calling me her young sex-toy, trying to embarrass both me and Stella. She just laughed, though, and asked if she could borrow me on occasion.

"Not a chance," Viktoria said. "This one is mine. But you can borrow my collection of dildos, I don't need them anymore."

By now I actually was getting embarrassed and found myself blushing. Both females found this adorable and kissed my blushing cheeks. Thing is, Viktoria really was an attractive woman. Old, yes; but aged well, and in all her outrageousness still stylish. Her sexual innuendos were gradually wakening thoughts and urges long dormant, and this effect she was having on me made it harder for me to absorb her teasing with the same aplomb as before.

We often watched TV together, close together in her couch, Copper sleeping on as many of our feet as he could manage and snoring a small-dog treble snore. He was much calmer now, our long walks were having an effect. One night we went out for dinner, me and Viktoria, that is. Copper was left home, indignantly threatening to chew shoes all night long for revenge. He was not used to being left alone.

Viktoria looked fantastic in a deep red dress, a red rose in her unapologetically deep grey hair. She was doing her stylish-trash-talk thing whenever the waiters were close enough to hear, and I sort of played along, having by now reached the stage of relax and enjoy it. The food was great, and so was the company. We talked about subjects high and low, though she had this tendency to make the high ones low, too. Giraffes, for instance; she focused on their very long tongues and what could be achieved with such an organ.

We then talked about what animal we felt most affiliated too. She, unsurprisingly, said cougar. I said frog, but not, as she thought, the kind of frog that turns into a prince when kissed. Afterwards we made a big show of me following her to her door, never mind that her door was three steps from mine. We kissed, a real kiss not just on the cheek. I just say; wow. Practice makes perfect, and I could tell she had had a lot of practice.

Apparently we made noises, because Copper heard us and loudly demanded to be let out. He was almost as ecstatic as I just had been; he was not one to bear a grudge. His threats of shoe-chewing had been idle, to Viktoria´s relief, and we took him for a short walk, holding hands. I was on poo-picking detail as usual, since Victoria claimed that my years as a doctor had made me used to deal with all things disgusting. I suppose she was right, since not even the turdy stuff broke my mood; the surprised and dizzy feeling of shit this is for real, not just friendship or an old lady teasing.

We did not have to say anything. Of course I came with them to their apartment. Of course I came with her to her bedroom. Of course our clothes came off. She had very stylish, but provocative, lingerie, and her breasts were still firm, at least they looked firm in her pushup bra. The room was lit by a few candles, since she felt her body was at its best in somewhat dimmer light; and the flickering light on her not unwrinkled but pearly-white skin was quite fetching.

As for me, she claimed that my sweet young sixty-four year old body made her mouth water and certain other areas moist, too. Very flattering. What followed was...well I´m sure you can imagine most of the goings-on. I can vouch for the fact that blowjobs with no teeth involved elevates the experience to a new level.

Me and my wife were never all that adventurous in bed. Viktoria was, though, so who knows; maybe you actually can´t imagine some of the activities. Slow, though, think slow. Everything is possible when old, but it takes more time. We were in no hurry, though.

Finally falling asleep I heard Viktoria mutter that she still thought I was the kind of frog which had handsome-prince-potential.

PART 4 -- A HANDSOME PRINCE

"Manfred," she said. "You must let me show you off to my friends."

"I guess that´s all right."

"And could we, please, please, have a little fun doing so?"

"What did you have in mind?" She told me and I absolutely refused, but two days later I was rigged out as Boris, her Ukrainian gigolo. Somehow she had managed to find me tight leather pants. I also wore shiny black shoes and a yellow silk shirt, top four buttons undone. She had provided me with a false moustache and a lot of greasy stuff for my hair. She would have liked me to have pierced nipples, but here I put my foot down, very firmly. Come to think of it she probably suggested it to give me something to refuse, thus giving me a sense of having some small amount of free will. Cunning.

As instructed I spoke with a thick accent and heaped compliments on all the ladies. Viktoria praised my prowess as a stud and told them of the incredibly bad luck I had had recently, being dastardly betrayed by business partners. Fortunately she had her savings with which she could save me and get the business back on even keel. Then I would, of course, pay back her loans with interest.

All three ladies were titillated by all this, two of them titillated and worried, one titillated and amused. The amused one played along, flirting back and hinting that she had more substantial financial resources to be exploited than had Viktoria. When they finally left she whispered:

"Well played, Dr Månsson. Viktoria has a fantastic gift for making her friends do weird things. I know this to my cost." Yet another forgotten patient, apparently.

Viktoria told me she found the moustache a real turn on and I promised to grow one. It turned out more walrusish than gigoloesque, but that was fine with her. Me and Copper went for our long walks, I even started jogging again, much to his delight. We´re having a lot of fun in bed and in life in general. Our sex-life is great, if not incredibly frequent. Once a week or so is plenty at our age and quality is better than quantity. Our kids are happy for our sake.

PART 5 -- CROAKING

No, don't worry, we´re not dead yet. But croaking seemed to be a nicely froggish last part to the story. And I will not deny that we are very aware that our time together is very limited. Death will come soon, to one of us or both, but that does not make our here and now together less sweet. If she dies first, as seems likely, I do not think I will freeze again. This time I am prepared and fully aware that death is a part of life.

The End