Micky finished smoothing the frosting on the cake, making sure it was perfect. It didn't really need to be a culinary work of art, but it was a way of delaying heading out to the dreaded annual family reunion and cook-out.
It was especially dreaded when you had been divorced since the last one. She knew she'd see the sad eyes that went with "How are you doing, Michelle?" Poor fifty-something-year-old Michelle, who lost her rich husband to a secretary. A secretary who was now an assistant manager.
Yes, she was Michelle, who lost her husband. A clichéd soap opera character now. Only she wasn't Michelle now. She was Micky. It didn't matter if she hadn't quite figured out who Micky was. And the bastard she lost was so guilty that she got the house, the Land Rover, and a sizable alimony check each month that would keep her quite comfortable, thank you. She'd love to snap off that line to her nosy Aunt Sheila, the Gossip Queen.
Micky wished her daughter, Audrey, was with her, but she was in Africa with the Peace Corps. That, of course, had her father fuming because after that overly expensive college education, she should be raking in the money in some firm. Well, the girl had absorbed more of mommy's values. After the reunion, Micky and Audrey would have been in hysterics, mimicking the foibles of their relatives.
She was glad that this year's gathering was at her youngest sister's place. She got along much better with Susan even though she was 12 years younger, definitely a surprise child who arrived 9 months after Mom's and Dad's 25th anniversary cruise. Liz might be one year older than Micky, but she was from another planet and her husband was a pompous ass.
Micky deposited her cake in the kitchen, did a round of obligatory hugs and kisses on the cheek, and minimized small talk as much as possible.
She'd deliberately wore a skirt that was a little too short, and a top that cut a little too low for her aunts' approval. She imagined cartoon balloons over their heads. "A woman at her age." "The trip from divorcee to slut is a short one."
She was smiling as she picked up a Margarita and headed off to pretend to be interesting in her niece and nephew, Sue's teenagers, playing soccer with a pretty good looking young man. Maybe Liz's daughter's boyfriend?
Micky found that she couldn't take her eyes off the stranger though she didn't get to close. While he certainly wasn't a body builder, but his body looked toned, maybe a cyclist or runner. She liked the blonde hair; she wondered if his eyes were blue. Wondered if he was one of those guys who found older women alluring. Well, it was probably just the Margarita giving her frisky thoughts. They always seemed to, especially by the second or third.
When the stranger made a kick that slammed into the net of the goal, he raised his hands in triumph, and the expression on his face told Micky that he just had to be her nephew AJ. She hadn't seen him in a few years. He'd been off at graduate school. Liz had mentioned that he'd just finished up his Ph.d. dissertation in American Literature at Brown. Yes, that had to be AJ.
When AJ saw her standing by the fence, he trotted over.
"Aunt Michelle, so good to see you," he called with a big smile and picked her up for a hug that spilled the last last two inches of her drink.
"Good to see you, too, AJ," Mindy responded, genuinely pleased. She always thought AJ was a really neat kid.
"I go by Jerry now," he said with a smile. "AJ is kind of a kid name. Anthony could be Tony, but we already have too many Tony's in this family. So Jerry it is."
"Sounds good," Micky said, giving him a thumbs up. "I'm thinking of myself more as Micky than Michelle these days."
"Then Aunt Micky it is." His face took on a serious look. "Uncle Dave must be a real dick for leaving an attractive, witty, intelligent woman like you."
He hesitated a little before continuing. "I see you dressed to get the old hens in the family flapping their wings and clucking away. I always thought of you as my 'cool aunt,' kind of spunky and in tune with things. My dad always referred to you as "Your aunt, the hippie,' though hippies have passed into history. He didn't like you carrying signs in demonstations. Or maybe it just turned him on to imagine you baring your breasts for the camera at Woodstock. By the way, you look fantastic even if you just dressed to piss off the hens. Anyway, I've got to get back to the game."
Micky wasn't quite sure of what to make of the way he rambled on. That this attractive young man found her witty, intelligent, attractive, and cool was a lot to take in all at once. She wondered it was perhaps AJ who had the image of her baring her breasts at Woodstock.
But he wasn't AJ, was he. He was Jerry now.
Micky wanted to have more time to chat with him, but her relatives kept getting in the way. They all wanted to know "How are you," probably hoping that she was on the verge of taking an overdose of sleeping pills, so there would be stories to whisper over at the next reunion.
When Micky found herself cornered by two aunts, she tried to move the conversation from herself, by mentioning how good Jerry looked.
Aunt Edith looked confused for a moment before replying, "Oh, you mean AJ. Kind of silly, renaming himself, isn't it?" Then she tossed in a bit of gossip that caught Micky's attention. "Liz is devastated that he's broken off his engagement with Sarah. It was such a perfect match."
This topic clearly engrossed the aunts, and gave Micky the opportunity to slip away.
Unfortunately, she was still in demand. Uncle Rick walked beside her. As he elaborated on what a fool her ex-husband was, his eyes keep wandering to her boobs. His comforting hand on her back, Micky suspected, was his attempt to discover if she was wearing a bra.
Micky feared that she wouldn't get an opportunity to talk to Jerry again. Her eyes were following him though.
She did manage to engage him in a brief conversation. He was relaxing with a beer in a lawn chair. She hopped up on one of the tables that had been cleared from the early food fest that she had chosen not to partake in. She scooted back so that her already short skirt revealed a few more inches of her thighs. Her shapely tanned legs dangled from the edge. She slowly swung them back and forth. She leaned toward him, her hands grasping the edge of the table. She was well aware that her position said two things. One, that she was listening intently to what he had to say. Two, that she was offering him the opportunity to take in more of her cleavage and the swell of her breasts.
Perhaps the third Margarita had made her flirty, but she realized her new self, Micky, wanted to see if she could capture the attentions of a much younger man. That he was her nephew made it seem especially naughty, weird, and thrilling at the same time.
She learned that he was working in the factory on the third shift from midnight to 8:00 A.M. He had worked there in summer during college. Now he was materials handler, getting to drive a fork lift and getting a chance to use his muscles. His parents, of course, were miffed that he didn't immediately take a teaching job, but he needed a break after the ordeal of the dissertation. He wanted to be sure that he picked the right situation for him.
She also learned that though he was very sly about it, he was managing to check her out. As he talked, he would make gestures that covered a quick glimpse of her cleavage. Would he wonder if the tan on what he could see of her breasts meant she sunbathed topless? Michelle wouldn't have, but Micky did. When he dropped his beer can and bent over to retrieve it, she sensed that he was hoping to discover the color of her panties, or if she was wearing any.
Micky's thoughts were exciting her, but she listened carefully to everything he said. He liked working the late shift because he could sleep while his friends were working. They could still hang out until he turned into Cinderfella and headed for work. The only negative, he claimed, was that sometimes he didn't feel like going to sleep when he got off work.
Micky was also checking him out. Well, he didn't have a hard-on, but there just might have been a little swelling in his pants.
