Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cream Pie, Oral Sex, Slow, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Life has odd twists and turns. Jay returns to his hometown for his dad's funeral. He already knows Lena but a gulf of years separate them. Or do they?
Merry freakin’ Christmas.
There a lot of bad things that can happen in one’s life. I had one right now. My sister met me at my hotel to attend our dad’s funeral. I was three states away on a construction job when my sister called me with the tearful news. I was the road that afternoon.
Travel? I traveled. Work. The good money was somewhere out there, usually surrounded by a sea of mud on a construction site. I managed to get back home every couple of months and every one of those trips was reconnecting with Dad and Cathy, my sister. Dad was retired. Mom had succumbed to cancer five years before, and Dad chose to stay in the family home, in comfortable surroundings where he’d lived for forty years in the house he and Mom bought when she found out she was pregnant with me.
And that’s where Dad lived. And died. Frantic tearful phone call from Cathy. Aneurism hit dad while he was doing what he loved dearly, puttering in the lush greenery of his garden. Yes, on the Gulf Coast you can garden right into winter. Dad’s cabbages and greens and turnips and Brussels sprouts were healthy. We hadn’t had a frost yet, so there were even tomatoes still out there. For Dad, it was his happy place. From the condition of the garden, he probably was smiling when the event hit him.
Cathy and I walked into Dad’s house. I couldn’t keep the sobs from coming forth as for the first time I opened the door and didn’t hear his voice. She left. I was sitting on the sofa when I heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” I called.
The door opened to present one Miss Lena, as in “Angelina” Crosby, daughter of the neighbors next door. Lena had, for the past five years, since she was thirteen or fourteen, come over twice a week and helped Dad take care of the house, filling in the gaps that Dad couldn’t do himself and relieving Cathy from some of the chores.
“I’m so sorry, Mister Harris,” she said, real tears coursing down youthful cheeks. Her sobs didn’t help mine one bit and we hugged one another, weeping over the loss of my dad and her friend. Cathy’d told me that it was Lena who’d discovered Dad’s lifeless form in his garden. I could hardly imagine a more horrible thing.
The funeral was two days later. Sis and I stood grimly as distant relatives greeted us and the dozens of Dad’s former co-workers, some grey-headed retirees like him, others younger guys who’d worked on his crews. That is, Cathy was on one side, hands folded together. On the other side was Lena, dressed in her Sunday dress, almost incongruent in simple colors. And every time she felt me shudder as one friend after another expressed regret for Dad’s passing, Lena grasped my arm. If I sniffled, Lena sobbed.
And at the end of the day Cathy went home with her husband and kids and I went back to Dad’s house. Pulling up in the driveway in Dad’s pickup truck, I saw a familiar form crossing the yard. Lena, still in that dress.
Okay. Me. James Eric Harris. “Jay” to my friends and family. Forty. Six-one. Two hundred pounds. My hair was dark brown, but the gray was showing, too, and it was still just a tad longer than the military buzz from my service years ago. I was an engineer, well enough known in construction circles to be in somewhat of a demand. I worked when I wanted, generally ten months out of the year.
Lena, on the other hand ... Lena’s folks had moved next door to Mom and Dad when she was five. At five, Lena was a little cotton-topped thing, hair so blonde it was almost colorless. The first time I ever saw her, she came through the fence to see Dad in his garden. She was wearing a little blue cotton jumper, and I immediately tagged her with “Smurfette”, which started her giggling. Over the years, I got updates on her growth on my visits home. In the passing of twelve years, Lena grew taller to her present five-ten, but never got over the gawky legginess she acquired in puberty. The hair got several shades darker, but still blonde.
Her mom and dad had another three kids, too, and I think the oldest of those three, two years younger than Lena and as she gently said, “retarded”, before “developmentally disabled” came into vogue, was a reason that Lena was somewhat socially inept. Her parents were good people, good neighbors, and honest and hard-working, but they struggled on the poor income from the dad and the occasional work of the mom to make ends meet, leaving Lena to care for her brothers and sister.
It was that Lena who was walking towards me, her blonde hair swinging just below her jawline; short, unrestrained, unadorned, straight-cut bangs a clean line above serious blue eyes.
“Hi, Mister Harris,” she said from halfway across the yard. “Are you doing okay?”
“About as good as can be expected,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “I’m gonna miss your dad, Mister Harris. He was always so nice to me.”
“Lena,” I said, “I won’t call you Smurfette if you don’t call me Mister Harris.”
“Okay, Mister Jay,” she answered.
“Closer,” I said. “How about just Jay?”
“You’re an adult, Mister Jay,” she said uncertainly.
“And you’re what, Smurfette? Seventeen? Eighteen?”
“Eighteen. Since last month.”
“So call me Jay, fellow adult. It streamlines conversation.”
“S’pose I LIKE being called Smurfette?”
“Okay, then. I promise to call you Smurfette on happy occasions.”
A vestigial smile passed across her lips. “I used to come over almost every afternoon and sit on the porch and talk with your dad, Jay. I’m gonna miss that.”
“I know, Lena. I’m gonna miss the phone calls and the visits. This was home, Lena.” I caught another sob.
“I’m still not over Denny dying yet. This is too many, Jay.” She looked at me with wet eyes. Her little brother had other problems besides mental development and they resulted in his passing away four months ago. Dad had told me the sad story. I was on the wrong side of the country for that funeral. Dad was there.
“I’m sorry, Lena. I know it’s tough. I should’ve been ready. Dad was seventy-four. But he was Dad. He was supposed to live forever.”
“I know,” she said. “And he was so healthy. At least we thought so. It was horrible.” She looked at me, eyes reddened. “His truck was here, so I knew he was home. I knocked, because that was the day I come over to clean and do the laundry for him. And he didn’t answer, so I walked around back ... And he was in his garden.”
“In his garden. You know, Lena, I think that’s as good a place as any for his last day.” I sighed.
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “His place. Oh, Mom’s got dinner ready if you want a plate. I can bring you one.”
“Nah,” I said, “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna go get something.”
“Jay,” she said softly, “By yourself? Let me bring us a plate, okay?”
I looked at those blue eyes. “Okay, Smurfette.”
She smiled as she walked away.
A few minutes later she was back, carrying a tray with two plates. We went inside and sat at Dad’s table, eating, the meal punctuated by sighs and short sentences.
“So what happens now, Jay? I mean ... this is his house...”
“I know, Lena. Cathy and I will start going through his stuff tomorrow. It’s just me and her, so it won’t take long to divide stuff up.” I looked at her. “You know, he talked about how good you were, helping him. He probably wants you to have something. If there’s anything...”
“Your dad was like my grandpa, Jay. I don’t know what I’d want. Do you have any pictures of him?”
“On my laptop,” I said. “And some DVDs. I spent a long time scanning everything. Wanna see?”
“Sure,” she said.
I fired up the laptop and started through the directory of Dad.
“That one!” she said. “That’s HIM! In his garden.”
“I’ll get it printed for you tomorrow, Lena.”
“Thank you, Jay,” she said. She picked up a DVD. “Are these private?”
“No,” I said. “Just old pictures. Every family has ‘em.”
“Show me,” she said simply. Her chair was scooted up next to mine, but I was getting uncomfortable sitting on the hard kitchen chairs.
“Wanna go sit on the sofa? It’s more comfortable.”
“Sure,” she answered.
We sat on the sofa as I worked through some pictures.
“Wait!” she said, “THAT folder...”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one that says “Jay in the army”,” she answered.
“Oh, that’s just pictures from...”
“When you were in the army. I remember your dad talking about that. He was proud of you.”
“He told me I was crazy. I told him ROTC would help me through college. Then I ended up in the war.” I showed her pictures of a younger me in the company of other young men, another place, another life.
“That’s YOU?” she squealed.
“Yeah, amazing what a decade and a half will do.”
She looked at me with those cool blue eyes.
We spent another hour looking at pictures, her questioning, me commenting, her arm against mine. Finally it was getting late. She retrieved the two plates and I opened the door for her.
“You don’t mind me being here with you and Mizz Cathy? You’re sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure,” I said.
The next three days were alternately happy and sad as my sister and I went through the closets and cabinets. Goodwill got a big pile of clothing and I promised them furniture in the near future.
And there was the will. Dad’s retirement account, pretty flush. Life insurance. Savings accounts. The house was bought and paid for. There was twenty-five acres on a hill in the middle of the state. I knew the place. A quick discussion and I traded my share of the house for her share of that land. I’m thinking –long forest road, then through the woods to an overgrown old homestead – security and privacy. I don’t really need the quick cash that selling Dad’s house would give me, not in the interest of a future cabin in the woods.
We pretty much figured the rest out. Somewhat surprising, though, was a codicil delivering the sum of ten thousand dollars to one Miss Angelina Crosby. I looked at Cathy. Cathy looked at me. The attorney looked at the two of us.
I spoke first. “College money, Lena?”
“I never expected that, guys,” she said. “He gave me money every week for helping out around the house. That was more than enough...”
“Darlin’, Dad wanted to help you, that’s all,” Cathy said.
Tears filled Lena’s eyes.
The rest of the meeting was filled with signing papers and handing over addresses and bank account information to facilitate transfers of funds.
I drove home with Lena in the truck beside me.
“I can’t believe he left me that money, Jay,” she said.
“You planning on college?”
“I don’t know, Jay. I was dreaming ... Mom and Dad can’t afford it. And this money would really help them. They’re always behind, always struggling.” She sighed.
“Lena, is your money gonna help? Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, it will. Really. But I’m eighteen, Jay. I need to get out.”
“Out? From your mom and dad’s?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but yeah. And I could stay there forever, I know, but...”
“But what, Lena?” I asked.
“But it’s just ... Jay ... I need to do something different.”
“Well, you’re eighteen. Nobody can legally stop you. But...”
She smiled. “But I could go do something stupid, huh, Jay? That’s what you’re saying?”
“You could, Lena. Thousands do. Some recover. Some don’t. Some think they did until twenty years later and they’re sitting in the middle of something that’s NOT their dream...” Yeah, it was a speech. Like I was talking to myself.
Or my ex-wife.
“Who’re you talkin’ to, Jay? Me or you?”
“You, lookin’ forward. Me, lookin’ backward.” I looked at her.
Blue eyes met mine. “You’re talkin’ about your divorce, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah ... Eight years of marriage is a pretty sizable thing to find out it’s not going to work.”
“That was when I was fourteen. I remember you stayin’ here. You were lost.”
“It was a bad time, Lena. I spent entirely too much time trying to save something that wasn’t working. And then she just up and announced a new boyfriend.”
“So you’re over it now?”
“Mostly. I do my thing on the road. Make money that stays in MY bank account. I enjoy my work.”
“You said that,” she said. “Uh, guys on the road out of town? Girlfriends?”
“Nuh-uh. Haven’t seen anyone that looked like what I want. You? Boyfriends?”
“Same answer,” she stated. “Up until Denny died, I was too busy helping Mom and Dad and trying to keep up in school. Your dad was nice. Gave me a way to make a little spending money. Gave me a quiet space and time. And Jay, you have to know how much I enjoyed the time I spent with him. He was the granddad I wished for.”
I grew sadder, thinking about all the time I should’ve stayed closer to home. Said so.
“He loved his kids. He was so proud of you, you know ... That you went to college, that you were an engineer, and doing good at it.”
“Dad made all that possible. I should’ve been here more.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Jay. He understood. Valued every trip you made back here, too, but he understood.”
“I wanna think so, Lena. It’s gonna be hard believing that I won’t have him to come visit any more.”
“Me, too. Now I guess I need to get serious about getting on with my life.” She sighed heavily, then, “We can sit around being sad. Or not. I got enough to pay my own way. How about we go do dinner somewhere and we won’t have to cook.”
“What about your family?”
“They know I’m kinda fried over your dad’s passing. I’ll tell ‘em where I’m going.”
“I’d be glad to have dinner with you,” I said. “Movie afterward?”
“Sure. There’s one I wouldn’t mind seeing.”
“My treat,” I said.
“I have money. I can pay my own way.”
“So, okay. Do that some other time. Accept this as just a friend out with a friend.”
She smiled. Yes, it’s tempered by the surrounding events.
During dinner we talked about her aspirations for college.
“Your dad’s gift would certainly help me on my way, Jay,” she said, “but I really want to get out of the house and on my own.”
“Boy?” I asked.
“Heavens, no. I do have a couple of high school girl friends who have an apartment. I could move in with them. Pay part of the rent and the utilities. Get a job. Start college in the fall. See where I am after the first semester or two ... What about you?”
“We’re getting to some of the interesting parts of Phase One of my project. Looks like they’re going to slide right into Phase Two and keep me there, so I’m thinking that I’ll be a couple more years there, at least. If I want it.”
“Why would you not want it?” she asked.
“Oh, I dunno. I guess that when the project starts winding down, a lot of the big, fun stuff is over. Time to move on.”
“Just like that? Get a job somewhere else?”
“I’m an engineer with construction experience. I have a bit of a reputation and I’ve built relationships with people who go on to other projects. Makes me kind of portable.”
“Must be nice,” she said.
“Yeah ... From a work standpoint, it’s some of the very best work, at least in my opinion. From the standpoint of a personal life, it’s kind of tough.”
“You, like, meet women? I mean...” She had a way of looking at me slightly sideways, just dripping with shyness.
“That’s not something I want to do, Lena,” I said. “Too many down sides.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well, I can think of a few. I sort of want to hear the ones YOU think of.”
“Right now you’re being my adult mentor. I ... I’m not the most socially adept person, you know...”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, I’m not,” she stated. “I...”
“I don’t understand. You come off as intelligent, you’re certainly attractive...”
She smiled a soft, demure smile. “Thank you. It’s nice to be told, but I don’t think so...”
“You are. Trust me.”
“I guess I had a lot going on with taking care of Denny and your dad. I didn’t HAVE to take care of your dad. It was just a pleasant thing. I think that maybe I used it as an excuse to NOT go out...”
“Why?” I asked. “I know what MY reasons are. What are yours?”
“Money. Mom and Dad do good keeping us in clothes, but they don’t have the money to let me be whatever’s passing for style this month. I live in an old house in an old neighborhood. I don’t get popular music and TV and videos. It’s easier to avoid...”
“But you said you had friends. That apartment?”
“Two more outsiders. Now, back to you...”
“I won’t do quickies and short-term relationships. One-night stands. Nope. A bad marriage made me hurt for a long time. Maybe it still does.”
“‘S hard to move on after a loss like that, I guess. I mean, Denny ... Now your dad.” Her eyes saddened.
“Death is a natural part of life,” I said, being terrifically profound. Dad – my dad. I wanted him to be there forever.
“Denny was before his time,” she said. “But all his problems ... I dunno how he would have done as an adult. They have those program homes for the developmentally disabled, but I don’t think Denny would have liked it and I don’t think he would have ever understood.”
“I suppose you’re right, Lena. I can’t begin to put myself in Denny’s place.”
“It was so good when he was happy,” she said. She heaved a long sigh. “Let’s change the subject. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It’s a plain ol’ Chinese restaurant, Lena. Next time I’m in town, how about a good steak?”
“It is but to dream,” she said.
“We’d do it tomorrow, but I’m on my way back...”
“I’ll take you up on that,” she said. “A date. For some unspecified time in the future. When do you expect to be back?”
“I suspect there’s going to be a break in February. If you’re still here...”
She smiled, those cornflower-blue eyes searing me. “Where else would I be? Either I’ll still be living at home or I will have moved in with my friends. One of my teachers says she can get me on with an industrial supply company. They need somebody with ‘Girl Friday’ skills. I can follow instructions, I can read, and I can type.”
“Don’t let earning a paycheck get in the way of your college...”
“I know. Common trap.”
I brought Lena home after the movie, returned to my hotel room, packed everything except what I needed to wear the next day.
In the morning I got up, hit the road, driving all day and into the evening. It was ten when I got back into the apartment I was renting for the current project. I was walking into my door when my phone buzzed. I looked. Lena.
“Hey, Lena,” I said.
“Hi,” she said softly. “You said you’d get there around ten.”
“I’m just walking through the door,” I said.
“Just checking to make sure you’re all right.”
“I am. Long drive. Listened to music. Thought.”
Monday morning, bright and early, I was back at work. I accepted wishes of sympathy from a bunch of my co-workers. That’s nice. My desk had a much higher stack of paper work. That’s not nice. But it IS the job. After work, supper was a can of soup and a sandwich, courtesy of a quick stop at a grocery on the way to the apartment, followed by a shower and plans to find something on TV.
I felt lonely, unusually lonely. I guess that dad’s passing had sort of severed some of my roots. I remembered the phone call last night, put the soft, rounded face to the voice in my head. Ah, if I was younger. And not here. There. Definitely there. This was a fight I often had with myself. Bouts of loneliness. I always overcame them before, but before, the face was some composite, generic female.
This time I had a face. Didn’t make it easier. Monday night football started. I settled back to watch two teams I cared nothing about, put my laptop on my lap, started surfing the list of sites on my ‘favorites’ list. NO porn. I didn’t need that.
About fifteen minutes into the game my email program chimed. Incoming email. The quick tag said ‘LenaC1998’.
I hope you didn’t mind me checking in on you last night.
With your dad gone, I think I lost the person I used to talk with most.
If you don’t mind, maybe I can call you. It would be sort of like penpals, except over the phone.
Email me back if it’s okay with you. I won’t call late. I have school. You have work.
It would just be nice to have somebody to talk with.
Formulating an answer to that message took less time than the wings of a thought.
Glad to be somebody you feel you can talk with. I enjoyed the time we spent hanging out, aside from the circumstances that brought the two of us together.
Call me any time.