This is a follow-up to "Small Favors...and Dirty Laundry," posted in the Mature section on 1/3/17. It helps to read that one first but not vital. In this third-person narrative, I've given the POV to our heroine, Rene Sutcliff.
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So this is what they call midlife crisis, Rene Sutcliff thinks. It is just after Labor Day, soon after she and her husband Vincent see their son Gary off at the airport. He's returning to Princeton University for his sophomore year. Their daughter Erika is gone too, headed for her senior year at Wellesley. Now it's just the two of them, empty nesters, at least temporarily, and Rene is left with a husband not much interested in sex and a lover who can't get enough. She and Adam, her just turned nineteen-year old lover and neighbor, had put the brakes on their affair while her kids were home for the summer. Now they're on the verge of resuming where they left off, and Rene is a bundle of emotions.
At first, it was all about the sex. It started as a conversation on the parking lot of Giant Food, then morphed into the best sex Rene had experienced in a long time—the ONLY sex Rene had experienced in a long time. But now, improbably, surprisingly, she is starting to fall for the teenaged Adam Naylor, he with the "pipsqueak IQ," she once joked, owing to his mediocre grades and choice of college, the much maligned Baynesville Community where those rejected by four-year institutions seek refuge. She never imagined what she discovered after that chance meeting on Giant's lot, that Adam has a keen sense of humor, not to mention a cock and a tongue that sends her into an erotic Eden. He makes her laugh as well as he makes her moan and shriek under his deft lovemaking. Moreover, he's a good listener. Before Gary and Erika had returned home for the summer, they met for lunch where she poured out her problems while he listened, patiently and seemingly concerned.
In short, he likes him, likes him to the point where she's starting to get crazy ideas. Where the sixty-year old Vincent is thinking about retiring from his oral surgery practice and opening up a restaurant, she's thinking of leaving the marriage, getting a two-bedroom apartment and shacking up with Adam. She hasn't broached this outrageous plan with him yet and probably never will. Even in her confused, innervated state, she realizes how irrational it sounds. But maybe this is what midlife crisis is all about, she thinks, a reawakening of one's youthful self, a self that lies dormant under marriage and children and mortgage, the stuff middle-agers grapple with until or unless something comes along that makes them question if such a life is worth pursuing.
The pain she'd inflict on her family by pursuing Adam's company beyond what they had already done would be incalculable, she knows. Tension had reigned between she and her son after Gary had found Adam's sweat pants and underwear in his clothes drawer. She had almost fallen apart fishing for a reasonable explanation, raising his suspicions that something very un-kosher was going on between them. Avoiding further damage would be a simple matter of calling it quits with Adam, chalk it up to experience and perhaps partner with Vincent in his restaurant idea. Sure, she'd remain horny as hell, with no outlet but her vibrator and her imagination, but at least she'd avoid any further trouble.
Of course, life is never simple, at least as it's lived, which is why on this warm September day, she and Adam are on their way to Silver Burch, her exclusive country club, to play a round of tennis. As when she first took him here last June, she's wearing her tennis outfit and Adam, no longer the shy virgin he was prior to their meeting, is rubbing her smooth, tan thighs as she maneuvers through traffic in her white Lexus. Even before they get to the parking lot, she's aroused: her tummy tingles, juices ooze from her cunt and beads of sweat run down her chest into her sports bra.
"Hopefully, Vincent won't show up here like he did last time," she says, referring to that time last June when he knocked off work early to play golf and met them in the dining hall, nearly catching them in some very naughty behavior.
"At least not onto this parking lot," Adam says after she pulls into a space. Rene is dizzy with desire after they start kissing and Adam begins to rub her crotch over her panties. "My god, honey, you're gonna make me come before we even get on the court," she says. "Not that that would be so bad."
However, before they get much further, a car pulls up next to them, and they back off. "To be continued," Rene says, nearly breathless. She glances at her crotch, now soaked from Adam's handiwork and her anticipation of what she hopes will come later.
Last time, Rene won the first two games of their match. Adam still hasn't told her that it was because her body distracted him, her beautiful, Petty Girl legs flexing and her boobs bouncing as she moved around the court. But today they settle for some easy volleying, Rene in her peach colored outfit, Adam in his plain old tennis whites. Not long into their play, Betty and Leroy Gammerman take the court next to them. The Gammermans, like Rene and Vincent, are long-time club members. The fifty-something, silver haired Leroy took a golden parachute his company offered a few years ago, then retired to a life of travel, active leisure and part-time consulting work.
Rene stops play to say hello and then introduces Adam, "college student and neighbor of ours," she says.
Betty, her frosted locks twisted into a bun, gives Adam the once-over, from his muscular calves and broad shoulders to his handsome surfer-boy face and pile of blond hair. "Looks like your gigolo," she quips.
"Yes, but don't tell Vinnie," Rene responds. "He might divorce me."
Rene and Adam look at one another as they laugh along with Betty and Leroy, enjoying the Gammerman's ignorance that Betty's comment isn't far off the mark. Once Adam and Rene tire of play, they risk blowing their cover by ending their volley with an affectionate smooch over the net.
The Gammermans shake their heads. "Well, would you look at that," Betty whispers "I think he is her gigolo."
When Rene comes up for air, she catches them staring. "This isn't what it looks like," she says with a nervous laugh. "We're just fond of one another."
Leroy holds his racket behind his thick neck and rocks from side to side on his hip orange tennis sneakers. "So I see," he says, his capped teeth showing through his broad smile.
Rene could slap herself. She should have known better than to do that in front of Betty Gammerman, an incurable gossip. Trying to defend her actions further would convince them that what they just witnessed is indeed what it looked like.
She waves goodbye and heads for the locker room, hoping that what took place on the court stays there. The excitement of getting naked with Adam tempers much of her concern—she can hardly wait to get him back to her house. They haven't made love since June. Now, with Vincent at work and Gary and Erika gone, she can pursue her ravenous desire. "And this time there won't be a pair of green sweats and underwear lying around to incriminate me," Rene says while behind the wheel.
Once home, she suggests they take Gary's room. Here is where they made love for the first time. And here is where Gary had confronted Adam with his suspicions that he and his mom were more than just friends. Adam's vehement denials did little to allay those suspicions. No matter, he and Rene can hardly get their clothes off fast enough. "I thought the summer would never end," she says as they climb under the white, freshly washed sheets. She brushes her fingers through her dark brown hair, longer than it was three months ago and styled the way she once wore it in college, a couple inches below her shoulders and parted in the middle. "Vinnie isn't real pleased with my new doo," she tells Adam. "He calls me a middle-age teen wannabe."
He pulls her close to him and kisses her firm, B-cup sized boobs. Then he says, "Well, I like it. If what he says is true, you're the prettiest, sexiest middle-age teen wannabe I've ever seen."
"And you're the funniest, best looking community college student I know," she responds as she clasps her knees around his cock, so hard and erect, it reminds her of a banana. "You know I'm falling in love with you, don't you?"
"So you once told me," he says, kissing her on the mouth and once again tasting the tangy-sweet aroma of her white gloss lipstick. "I didn't believe it then. But I do now, and want you to know I'm falling for you in the same way."
Briefly, Rene's ideas of making a life with Adam pop into her head. But only briefly, for she soon loses herself in her passion and in the arms of this young man whom she once held in such contempt, a regrettable thing that since last April she's tried to erase as if it never happened. "God, I missed you so, welcome back," she whispers, holding and kissing him, and then collapsing on her back to let Adam work wonders with his tongue. Her present concerns—where she's ultimately going with this, Gary's suspicions, etc.—melt away as she enters the realm of pure sensate pleasure, unabashed and uninhibited. This now is her little corner of the world, one filled with Adam's head between her legs, his tongue swishing over her hot cunt, gushing forth waves of liquid she didn't know her mid-forties self could produce. She gave this up for the summer; she's not sure she could give it up for longer. "Make love to me, Adam," she pleads. "Show me how much you care for me."
