Ray's Days

Sometimes as I lay in my recliner, or lounged about in the boat, or worked in my shop, memories of my afternoon with Suze and of my day with the Maryland girls came back, and I had to really think: "Was that just wayward imagining, or did it really happen?" Were it real, the time had really flown by since it had all happened. Were it only my imagination, the thoughts of it caused a rise in my nether regions, still. Whatever. It had not happened since. Matter of fact, almost nothing had happened since.

Oh, I'd been on some dates, usually ladies who my 'friends' insisted I take out, because they 'were just PERFECT for me.' The 'shes' and I went through the motions, as a rule they seemed to be interested, but for the life of me I could not generate the required spark, and I had no second dates with any of them. Not one.

So, things had been very VERY quiet for old Ray. Work around my shop, hang with some friends at the bars or golf courses, listen to their crap about my celibacy, eat and sleep and watch TV, usually at home, alone. Boring. But I was used to it. No big deal, not any more.

On a spring day, I had worked in my shop for most of the day when on a whim, I decided to shower early, change, and drive into town for pizza and beer. As I turned off the shower, I heard the phone ringing furiously. Still dripping, I grabbed the receiver.

"Hello?" I muttered.

"Hi, Ray. This is Meg...Meg from next door."

"Oh, hey, Meg. How are you?" I continued to drag the towel over my back.

"OK," she answered. "Well, mostly. Could..could I ask you something?"

"Sure," I replied. John and Meg lived next door, and we sometime spoke over the hedge between us as we did our yard work, but we never socialized, especially since my wife had died. I did have remembrances of the afternoon with Suze, but quickly (and guiltily) put that thought out of my mind.

"I was starting dinner, you know, already had a pot of sauce on, planning to boil some noodles for pasta, and my stovetop stopped. It just stopped, went out! Now I can't get it back on. And John is out of town for several days, in a class, and I...well, I tried to..I mean, I turned the breaker on and off...and it still won't work. Do have any idea why?" She raced through this 'question' and I barely caught it all.

"So, let me see, Meg. You say it was OK, then just quit." She affirmed that I got that part right. "And you reset the breaker, right?" Another positive. "Is the oven working?" Yep, she had tried that, too, and it worked fine. I didn't even know whether she had a single unit or a cooktop but figured it was worth a try. "OK, let me do this. I just got out of the shower, let me dress, and I'll come over and take a look. That be alright?"

"Oh, gosh, Ray, I didn't want to bother you. I mean, I'd appreciate it, but if you're busy I can call somebody, like a...a...uh..."

"Electrician," I answered. "No, no, let me look. They charge a bundle. And I might can narrow it down. I'll be over in a sec."

"Thanks, Ray. Thanks. See you in a minute." Meg sounded relieved. I finished drying off, pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, threw on my Dockers, ran a brush through my tangled hair, and headed out the door.

I tapped on John and Meg's door, and she must have been waiting, as the door immediately swung open. Meg greeted me with a big smile.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said laughingly. "I was in a tizzy! Here I was, starving, hadn't eaten all day, just got out of the shower..." She ran her hand through her short, blonde, still-damp hair... "and started dinner, and BOOM...nothing!! Oh, I'm sorry, come on in, Ray." She turned and walked toward the kitchen, and it was then I noticed the short terrycloth robe as it swayed from her nicely-rounded cheeks. I followed the motion into the kitchen and watched as she turned the black knobs on the glass cooktop. "And see, nothing. NOTHING. I tried everything, but it just quit." She turned to me, looking exasperated.

I had not been this close to Meg in a while, and I stared silently as she finished her explanation. For a lady who had to be maybe ten or fifteen years younger than I, she looked extremely nice. She had on no makeup, but her skin was smooth and lightly tanned. Her blonde hair framed an oval face and highlighted sparkling blue eyes. Her smile was radiant, even without lipstick, and I was amazed that I'd never really noticed how attractive she was. I glanced down, quickly, and realized that I'd entirely missed the deep V forming the front of the terrycloth robe. She had the belt pulled tightly, but evidence of previously-unseen cleavage caught my eye. I tore my eyes from her and walked to the cooktop.

"Hmmm, seems like you've tried about everything. But let me look at the electrical panel, OK?"

"Sure." She turned toward a hallway and I followed the swaying robe again. Stopping at a door at the end of the hall, she opened it wide to reveal a laundry room, and I spied the panel on the far end of the room. Meg stepped aside and I made my way to panel. I opened the metal cover and immediately saw the labeled breaker. I tripped it once, twice, a third time.

"Want me to try the cooktop?" Meg asked and I nodded affirmatively. I heard her call down the hallway.

"Nothing, still nothing."

"OK," I yelled back. Real work time, now. "Hey, got a screwdriver?"

"Yeah," Meg yelled back, and I heard her rambling in a drawer. In seconds she was back in the laundry with me. "Here ya are."

She handed me a couple of Stanley screwdrivers. "That's my set. John lets me keep them up here." She beamed that dazzling smile, and I laughed in return.

"Smart guy." In short order I had the cover off, pulled out the breaker, and inspected the wiring. "Looks fine," I muttered. "Tell you what, let me take this to my house to test it. I'll need an ohmmeter, and mine is in my shop."

"That sort of like a..." She pursed out her lips and rolled her eyes up. "Mmmm, something like a volt tester?"

I laughed. "Yeah, sort of. Voltmeters, ammeters, ohmmeters—they're usually on the same instrument. Why, you got one of them, too?"

"I just might, neighbor," she grinned broadly. "Stay right here. Be back in a minute." She swayed back up the hall, and I leaned back onto the dryer to watch her. Again she pulled out a drawer, a big bottom drawer under the oven. As she rambled in it, she bent over, and my heart began to thump as the robe inched up her smooth thighs. As she dug deeper, the robe climbed higher, and I expected to see at least some portion of panties, but as she leaned over even more, my chest pounded as I saw only the light skin tones of the rounded globes of her ass cheeks. I stared, still trying to find at least the thin lines of a g-string but finally convinced myself that she had dressed much as I had—just to cover the subject.

Suddenly she popped up. "Look! I got one!" She turned to me, the dazzling smile overshadowing the bright yellow meter held aloft in her hand. She ran down the hall like a little kid finding her first Easter egg and ceremoniously dropped the meter into my opened palm. "See, smart aleck. I'm not TOTALLY helpless!"

"True, true," I grinned back at her. "And for the record, I am totally impressed, yet again."

I sat the breaker on top of the washer, unwrapped the leads from the meter, set it to measure resistance, and attached the leads. I shorted the ends together and was relieved to see the needle swing over. Great! Not dead, at least. As I positioned the breaker, I glanced over and realized Meg had pushed herself onto the dryer and was sitting there watching intently. Now I had to concentrate, because the robe had ridden upward yet again, this time giving me a view of the top of her thighs and damned near her sacred spot. And besides creeping up, the V of the robe had widened, and I could clearly see more than just a hint of soft, full, rounded breasts as Meg leaned over to watch proceedings with the meter. I heard, rather than felt, the blood coursing at ultra-high speed through my brain, and then realized I was popping out all over in sweat.

Forcing myself back to the breaker, I stuck the leads on one side and looked at the meter. Nothing. I moved the leads to the other side of the double-pole breaker. Nothing again. Odd. I touched the leads together and the meter pegged, moved them back to the breaker, and again—nothing. I was no novice as to residential wiring. I'd dabbled in it for probably 35 or so years, but I'd never—NEVER—seen a 220 breaker go completely open. But this one had, and I stepped back to scratch my head.

"What is it?" Meg asked. "Bad breaker?"

"Fraid so," I replied. "Damndest thing I've ever seen. But it has to be it." I shook my head.

"Is there anywhere close I can buy one?"

"Yeah, Lowe's maybe has them. I can run up there and see."

"You don't mind? I mean, I could go, but I wouldn't know what I was looking for."

"I don't mind, really. Let me run and change and I can be back in a jif."

A look of relief came over Meg's face. "Thanks, Ray. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. Just come on in when you get back. I'm not going anywhere. And I'll repay you when you get back, if that's OK."

"Oh yeah, sure. No problem. See you in a few minutes."

I pocketed the breaker and strode over to my house. I peeled off the sweats, pulled on my BVDs and a pair of khaki shorts with a clean T-shirt, slipped on my Dockers, and drove the couple of miles to Lowe's. In ten minutes I had the replacement breaker and was heading to my truck. As my brain slowed a bit, I began to wonder—what was Meg doing? I barely knew her or her husband, yet here she was, apparently alone, letting me into her house, VERY casually attired—almost scantily, in my estimation—and treating me as if I belonged there. Was she just being neighborly, was she trying to check me out, was she just terribly naïve, or was...ohmygod, had she talked to Suze!!?? My mind raced again. From my time with Suze, it didn't sound like she and Suze talked much. God, I hoped not. But even if they had talked, what was Meg up to?

I puzzled over the previous hour, going minute by minute, looking for clues, but by the time I pulled into my driveway was still at a loss. I finally decided Meg must just be a very casual person. After all, it was common to see her—really, any of the neighborhood women and their kids—around their yards and on the lakeshore, sporting some rather revealing swim wear. To outsiders, maybe the entire neighborhood seemed 'overly casual.' But what the hell—we liked our lakefront living.

Yeah, that had to be it. Very casual, and maybe a bit naïve—that was Meg in a nutshell.

I returned to John and Meg's house, new breaker in hand, and pushed open the door, as instructed.

"Hey, Meg, it's just me," I yelled out.

"Oh, great! Just do whatever you need, Ray. I'll be out in a sec," a disembodied voice said. I walked through the kitchen and turned down the hall to the laundry room. In a couple of minutes I had the wiring reinstalled on the new breaker and had it back into its slot. I flipped it on, then went to the kitchen and was surprised to see an element already glowing red. I twisted the knob to off and returned to the laundry.

As I replaced the cover of the panel, I heard footsteps and turned to see Meg enter the laundry. She now had on a bit of lipstick, her hair was dried and brushed, and she had changed into a light yellow pullover-type shift-looking thing whose hem struck her somewhat higher than mid-thigh. The top was cut low and her breasts filled it quite nicely. I'm sure I was staring but managed a quick smile.

"Good as new," I announced, and as I closed the cover, continued, "and in near record time with a bare minimum of financial pain." I turned to face her, surrendering her screwdrivers, the meter, and the bill from Lowe's.

"Unbelievable!" she exclaimed happily as she took the proffered items. "Now we can eat! Come on, Ray. I've already got the pasta cooking. So come on, come on!"

"No...no, I can't, Meg, really. That's too much trouble, and I..."

"Listen to me, neighbor. You saved me from starvation! I owe you a ton, and I will not take no for an answer. So come on!" She turned toward the kitchen.

"Meg, look, I need to go, really. Thanks for the offer, but it's...it's a bit awkward, with John being gone, and I'd rather not be..."

She turned back around, her face just inches from mine. "Ray, it's no big deal. I owe you, OK? And I repay my debts. You're alone for dinner, right?" I nodded, unable to make up something that quickly. "So this is a dinner invitation to thank you for helping a poor gal out. Now come on, it's almost ready." With that, she turned back to the kitchen and I followed.

I had to admit a well-prepared home-cooked dinner sounded good, and as the pots on the cooktop began to heat, that well-prepared home-cooked dinner smelled good as well. Meg went about her preparations, and I gallantly offered to help, but she shooed me away.

"But before you get too relaxed, how about a drink?" she asked. "Beer? Wine?"

"Beer would be great," I replied, and she pulled a bottle of Bud from her fridge, twisting off the cap and handing it to me.

"Guess you noticed that we're real informal here, huh? Now, just go in the den, or out on the porch, and relax. I've worked you pretty hard for the last few hours," she told me, displaying that dazzling smile once again.

I hadn't been in this house for a number of years—since tenants number four or five, maybe. John and Meg had been in for several years, and I immediately noticed a number of changes and upgrades. They had redone the kitchen cabinets, countertops, appliances, almost everything. The den had been enlarged by taking out a wall and incorporating a seldom-used living room. A large screened porch had been added off the den, giving the house a great view of the lake. And I also noticed the wrought-iron table on the porch had been arranged for dinner with two place settings. I wondered briefly if Meg had had someone else coming over before the breaker popped.

The porch also had two sofas and I stretched out on the one with the best view. It was within sight of most of the kitchen and also within talking range of Meg. We carried on a casual conversation as she prepared dinner and I kept my eyes on her as she reached high or low for items in various cabinets. More than once I was rewarded with views of her long, smooth legs.

In maybe 30 minutes Meg began making trips to the porch, bringing salad, bread, pasta, sauce, and cheese, then capping it all off with a bottle of red wine.

"Wow, that looks and smells incredible," I told her as we sat at the table. She began dishing out salad, then handed me the wine bottle.

"Do the honors, please, sir." She flashed that smile again and I poured the wine into the glasses. She held hers up and I did the same. "Here's to a wonderful, talented, and willing handyman."

"Thanks, Meg. I appreciate that. And here's to a wonderful, talented, and insistent chef." We both laughed, took a sip, then dug into the salad and bread.

For several minutes we just ate. She was quite obviously as hungry as I was, and the food was exceptional. Finally we slowed a bit, and between bites began a conversation. It began with comments about her house and how great it looked, moved to the status of our children and grandchildren (I found out that Suze had moved to an adjoining state and that John and Meg didn't like that one bit—explained why I hadn't seen her in a long while), briefly covered our life histories (schools, past employment, marriage, travel, etc.), continued with present employment status (Meg was a beauty supply rep, John an insurance broker), and slowed as we discussed our other neighbors. I learned that Meg knew lots more about people on our street than I did. She talked glibly about the Lawson's marriage problems, about Sue Knox's alcoholism, about the Bonham's open marriage—I was blown away at all these revelations). I told her that Kat and I had led pretty-much private lives and never really socialized much and apologized for never getting to know her and John very well. She looked at me somewhat sympathetically.

"I'm really sorry about your wife, Ray. I wish we could have had more time to get to know the two of you. We understand how hard it must be to get your life back after a loss like that. But..." she brightened up..."we'll have to start working on being better neighbors. OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'd like that, Meg. I'm sure John and I could find some mutual interests. That would be nice."

Meg stood up and began to collect dishes and silver. "I don't know about that," she muttered and turned toward the kitchen. "Now just let me do this. You keep your wine and get comfortable on that sofa. I'll only be a minute."

I took my wine glass and returned to the 'sofa with the view' and stretched out, idly wondering what Meg's remark about my 'mutual interest' comment meant. I brushed it off, attributing it to Meg's unease about John's being out of town, as Meg made two more trips, cleared the table, and in several minutes came back with a filled wine glass. She sat down on a cushioned wicker chair across from me.

The sun had begun to set and tree frogs could be heard toward the lakeshore. It was very pleasant, as long shadows crossed the screened porch. A few boaters could be heard on the water, and the evening was idyllic.

"Well, that was nice," Meg sighed as she settled in. She leaned back in the chair, twirling her wine glass, one leg crossed over the other, the hem of the yellow dress high on her tanned thighs. "I didn't look forward to another dinner alone. I don't know how you do that, Ray. Why don't you go out more often?"

I sat silently for a few seconds, composing an answer.

"I...I don't know, Meg. It's still awkward, I guess. I mean, I've had some dates, but...well, they didn't work out. I have some friends, guys I worked with or played golf with, but they all have families, or are divorced, and I feel sort of out of place with them. And eating out, alone, really sucks, you know? So, I just stay in a lot."

She studied me for a bit, then said softly, "You shouldn't do that, Ray. There are too many women who would almost kill for a man of your talents, your looks, your nature. Really, I could name a dozen right now."

I raised an eyebrow, and Meg picked up on it.

"No, no, I won't. I would never do that to you," she added. "That's your business. But I'm just saying, they're out there, Ray. I know a ton of divorcees, even a few singles, and yes, several in their early thirties who would love to meet you. Age shouldn't be a barrier, Ray. These women just want a real man. And..." She lowered her voice to almost a whisper..."I know a few married women who would thoroughly enjoy spending some 'quality' time with you."

My eyes had been studying the wine in my glass, but as Meg added this last bit of information, I raised my head to look at her. She was studying me intently, her free hand lying casually on her chest, the dress riding up even higher. My heart started to thump a bit quicker as I looked into her eyes.

"I'm not...not, uh, too sure about all that, Meg," I stuttered. "I mean, I'm flattered that you think that, but I sorta doubt there would be any kind of real interest in me. I doubt I'm the prize many of them might think."

"Oh, you underestimate yourself, Ray," she replied. "I don't know you well, I admit that. But..." She paused..."I know how most husbands are, and what I know is, you're head and shoulders above most of them. Girls talk, Ray. And believe me, I know truth when I hear it."

"I think you're just upset because John's gone a lot, Meg." I had to defend my brotherhood, although I knew there were some sorry husbands out there.

Meg sat silently for a bit. Then, she sat up in the chair and looked pointedly at me.