THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN Chapter 9
On Monday, after work, I picked up some groceries for Mom and brought them over to her house. As I came in her front door, I saw her with her back to me, struggling to go up the stairs. She had both hands on the banister, and was trying to pull herself up.
- "Mom! What are you doing?" I put down the groceries and went to help her.
- "I forgot something in my room." she said.
- "What is it? I'll get it for you."
Crisis averted - for today. But I'd seen what I saw, and I finally managed to get Mom to admit it. She was having trouble with stairs.
Her house was a two-storey, three bedroom monstrosity with a furnished basement and a massive crawlspace for storage. It was too damn big for a nearly 80-year old woman with mobility issues. She'd lived there for 45 years, though, and she wasn't about to move into an apartment or a condo - and that was that (never mind how much sense it would have made).
She climbed the stairs at night, to go to bed, and came down in the morning. Her laundry room was in the basement, but she didn't have to tackle those stairs every day.
- "What about a stair-glide, or a stair-master?" I asked. "We could install something to help you get up and down."
- "I'm not a cripple, Daniel."
You might be if you fall again, I thought. Perhaps I should have said it.
- "There are other options, too, Mom."
- "I'm not moving into one of those prisons." she said. "I'm going to keep my house as long as I can."
Yeah, I thought. As long as Sylvia the cleaning lady and I can maintain it for you.
***
I wasn't playing hard to get. For some reason, it just made sense to me to wait a little bit before seeing Lisa again. I didn't see her Sunday night, and I knew that I'd be busy with Mom on Monday. So I called Lisa and asked her if she was free on Tuesday.
- "Exams are over." she said. "I'm free
every
night."
I took her out to hear a local legend playing in a bar. He customarily did one acoustic set, followed by an electric guitar set, accompanied by a buddy of his on bass.
"I'm sorry, Dan." said Lisa. "I don't mean to put pressure on you."
- "Did you? When?"
- "When I told you that I was free every night. I know how many obligations you have. I'm not trying to suggest that you have to spend time with me all of the time. Ouch - that sounds awful."
- "Lisa, I didn't feel any pressure. Truth is, I
want
to spend time with you. I'm just... okay, to be completely honest - I'm amazed at how quickly my feelings have changed. I was afraid to get into a relationship with you, afraid to hurt your parents... and now I can't think of anything
but
you."
She took my hand. "That's so sweet of you to say. Umm... can we skip the second set? I think I'd rather go home with you."
- "We can do that."
Lisa's ass was pretty nice, but I was mesmerized by the dimples in her lower back. Once again, I was amazed by the sheer mass of her soft breasts, considering how thin she was elsewhere.
I loved running my hands over her back as I took her from behind, at her insistence. It was only the second time that I'd seen her naked, but I was beginning to realize that Lisa wasn't just bright, and responsible - she was also gifted, in the physical sense.
I'm not sure what the 'perfect' woman looks like. Two years ago, I would have said that it was Holly. A year later, my vote would have gone to Aarti. But now...?
The age difference no longer bothered me. I'd seen and spoken to Anna - apparently it didn't bother her in the least that her daughter had spent the night with me. I just couldn't get over how happy I was whenever Lisa was with me.
She cuddled with me again, but then began fidgeting.
- "Can I use your washroom?" she said.
- "Please - you don't have to ask."
I went to the basement, to check on my devoted guard dog. Freya was asleep, but twitching a bit; she was probably herding sheep in her dreams. I got a glass of water from the kitchen, and took it back to the bedroom.
Lisa was just coming back from what had once been the master bedroom. She sat down next to me on the bed, and I passed her the glass of water. She took a sip.
- "You haven't used that room in years, have you?" she said.
- "Not really." I said. I had forgotten: Lisa was the first woman I'd been with since Connie died who'd actually known my wife. "The memories are... still too strong."
- "Have you considered... renovating?"
- "Ahh..."
- "Dan, you aren't using a significant chunk of space on the main floor of your house. I understand the power of memories, but..."
- "I'm not... comfortable in there."
- "I understand. But what if it was a den? Or an office?"
- "I don't think so."
- "That's why I'm suggesting a reno. But it has to be something you can deal with."
I smiled. There was no way that I wanted to spend time in the room where my wife had died. I certainly wasn't going to sleep there, but I also couldn't picture using that space for any prolonged period of time.
Lisa and I got together again on Thursday night. I took her to a driving range, and let her swing a golf club. To my surprise, she made contact regularly, and smacked the ball.
- "Your hand-eye coordination is excellent." I said.
- "Thank you very much, Mr Pilgrim."
- "I'm not making fun of you. I just thought of you as a brainiac. I didn't realize that you had athletic skills, too."
Lisa waited until we were in my car, headed home.
- "Dan?"
- "Yes?"
- "I'm not fragile." she said. "When we make love, you can be a little more... forceful. I love that you've been so gentle with me - but I won't break."
I thought about that for a few moments. She was so forthright, so much more courageous than I'd
ever
been. I remembered what I was like at 22 - I could never have won a girl like Lisa. "Thank you." I said. "Thank you for telling me that."
In case I've been making it sound like Lisa was perfect - she wasn't. She slept with her mouth open.
Actually, my first opportunity to watch her sleeping, with her hair spilled across the pillow, was surprisingly moving for me. She was someone I'd known for a long time, but she wasn't the little girl across the street anymore. She was my lover, a bright, attractive woman in her own right, and wiser than me in many ways. I thought I knew her, but so much of what I was learning about her was brand new.
She was working part-time for the summer, but she wouldn't have to worry about money in September. Between scholarships, bursaries and grants, and the pay she'd be receiving as a teaching assistant, Lisa would be making about $15,000 over the next school year. For someone who wasn't paying for room and board, and without a car, that was pretty good.
She was getting ahead of her reading, but also leaving me plenty of time to deal with Mom and the upkeep of her house, yard and pool. Lisa and I came to an interesting arrangement.
I'd already given her a key to my house, for when she was looking after Freya. Lisa began using my house as her private reading library - sometimes when I was at work, or when I was at Mom's, and occasionally even when I was at home.
She brought a stack of books over, and left them in a pile next to my armchair, where she could curl up with a cup of tea.
- "I like being in your house." she said. "I think it's a holdover from when I was younger, when I used to dream that you would invite me over. Now, though... it's more of a quiet place. A sanctuary. Freya's here, happy to see me. And there's always the possibility that you'll come home early..."
That happened a few times. On the first occasion, I took her straight to bed. On the second, though, I asked her to stay for dinner, and a late swim. The summer nights were quite hot and humid. We barbecued, walked Freya together, and then slipped into the pool.
Lisa looked very good in her modest bikini. She was a very good swimmer, and I enjoyed watching her move smoothly through the water. I'd converted to salt water years ago, so we didn't get irritated eyes from the chlorine. The salt was also much better for our skins. But I liked to take a quick shower afterwards.
That's when I got further proof that Lisa wasn't very inhibited. She left the bathroom door wide open, so that I could come in. When she exited the shower, she used the towel to dry off, rather than to cover her nakedness.
- "You're not shy at all, are you?" She had a healthy attitude, I thought, compared to my lingering feelings that certain body parts were 'dirty'. Thanks again, Mom and Dad.
- "It is what it is." she said. "You've seen it all already. Or you will, soon enough."
I'm not sure if I initiated it - in fact, it's much more likely that
she
seduced me - but we ended up making love in the bathroom. I knelt on the shower mat so that I could eat her pussy, and then lifted her onto the counter next to the sink so that I could enter her.
It was something I'd never done before. Mindful of her request to not be
too
gentle, I was thrusting into her with considerable speed and force. That also meant slamming my testicles into the edge of the counter. Two of those collisions were more than enough: I brought Lisa back to the floor, turned her around, and fucked her from behind. Both of us were able to enjoy the view in the bathroom mirror.
She stayed over that night, too. I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
The next day, when I got home from work, she wasn't there. Yes, I was disappointed. She was wise enough to give me space - but that wasn't always what I wanted.
I took the dog for a walk, and then wondered what to do with myself. Curiosity got the better of me. I saw that Lisa's stack of books had grown a bit taller. I went over to examine the titles.
Interpersonal deviance. Totalitarianism. The Vorkosigan Saga. That didn't sound like a psych textbook. It wasn't; it was a novel by Lois McMaster Bujold. Had that one snuck in by accident?
A closer look told me that it wasn't. Lisa had one or two books on psychology or sociology, separated by novels. Bujold. N.K. Jemisin. John Irving. And at the very bottom of the pile, a collection of short stories by Vladimir Nabokov. The name rang a bell, but I couldn't remember why.
The next time Lisa and I went out, I asked her about her books.
- "Bujold?"
Lisa blushed a little. "I can't read one psychology book after another. So I slip some lighter reading in-between the heavier stuff."
- "A reward? Or an incentive?"
- "Both - definitely. But you know, I've learned a lot about psychology and sociology from novelists. Just because they're novelists doesn't mean that they don't know anything."
- "I think the only name I recognized was John Irving."
