Chapter 8: A Year Later

“Where’s Stephanie?” asked Ellie.

“She’s out in the sunroom with her boyfriend.”

After selling Ellie’s house a year ago, we had mostly settled into our new lives together. Our daughter was now in preschool; she came home after the first day and insisted that “Sparkle” was a baby name and she was Stephanie from now on. We quickly learned that any backsliding would be met with an emphatic foot stomp and a thunderous expression.

With an active little girl, my two-bedroom house was feeling very cramped, so we added a generous sunroom to the back of the house. She met Mikey at preschool, and his (single) mother met me after school.

Lily and I got to talking. First up was a little trolling, which I had to nicely fend off, explaining that I was already partnered. I explained why my hands were (still) covered by the gauze gloves.

“You pulled Stephanie out of a burning car? Holy shit! Are you sure you have a woman in your life?”

“Yeah, I did. Yeah, I do. But you’re very attractive; I’m sure some guy will come along for you.”

“Aren’t you nice. I guess you’re not working yet because of your injury. I know this is coming out of nowhere, but could you possibly consider watching my kid for me? You know, after school?”

After talking it over, Ellie and I decided to accept Mikey for just the cost of his juice boxes and snacks. It was good to help Sparkle, whoops, Stephanie out of her “only child syndrome” and pick up skills like sharing and communication.

It wasn’t long before the two kids were thick as thieves and plotting against us.

Meanwhile, we plotted our own conspiracy after our little girl was in bed.

“Lily needs to get laid, don’t you think? Then, she won’t moon over you so much, stud.”

“Yeah, you know I haven’t given her any reason to think she has a chance, but it must have been a long time for her. You’re saying we keep Mikey here on Friday nights?”

“Exactly. In exchange, she keeps Stephanie on Sunday nights so we can have some special fun to start the week. I could put on my new golden dress, and we can go out to dinner, um, first.”

“Ah. The only thing I like better than seeing you in that dress is taking that dress off of you.”

“Oh, you’re sweet. Time for you to butter me up.”

Now that my hands were scarred but healed enough to use, our new nighttime foreplay habit was for me to apply cocoa butter to her body. Along with being sexually exciting, smearing the stuff was great for my hands. I started with her down on her belly, beginning with her feet, and working my way up her lush body with firm, kneading strokes. That is, as firm as my hands could tolerate.

By the time I reached her thighs, I could smell her arousal. But moving on to her cheeks is what really made her wet. Sometimes, she insisted I stop there and skip her back, shoulders, and arms.

Not this time, though, she wanted the full treatment—so that’s what she got. I was happy with my hard-on nestled between her butt cheeks while I worked on her shoulders and upper arms. And when Ellie turned over, I could see the wetness on her pussy and the greedy smile on her face.

I have to admit I rushed creaming her front, even though I was distracted pushing her big breasts around.

“Are you ready, Ellie?”

“Fuck me very much!”

As the weeks passed, I thought less and less about my past hard times with Steckler. Ellie accepted a new job for higher pay at a different airline, and she recommended me to fill her old spot. During the transition week, she taught me everything I needed to know. My hands were healed enough for me to work their web pages. Fortunately, I was doing more clicking than typing.

Mostly, I had to remember to be patient and calm, as frazzled travelers were coping with delays, cancellations, and so forth. When a big storm walloped the northeast, we farmed out the kids to Lily’s place and worked 12-hour shifts, saving up the overtime for vacation. To a theme park, maybe? You know, the big one with the mouse? Stephanie was the perfect age for this.

A couple of weeks after the big storm, Lily came home early from her Friday night. It was 9:30, Mikey and Stephanie were sound asleep, and she walked into our tiny living room weepy and a bit disheveled.

Luckily, Ellie and I were just finished watching a movie when she walked in. We were cuddling, but still clothed. Ellie rushed up, hugged her, and brought her back to the couch to sit in the warm spot I had just vacated.

I didn’t even ask. I brought Lily a generous glass of red wine while she sniffled. She took the glass from me with a small smile. Ellie gestured with her hand, and I went back to fill two more glasses.

“Please tell us, Lily. What happened? What’s wrong?”

“A few days ago, I was buying groceries, waiting to check out. The clerk suddenly closed the lane, and I needed to back out. The guy behind me wasn’t paying attention, and I banged into him with my giant butt.”

“You mean your generous yet perfectly formed backside, Lily?”

“Cut it out, Daniel, I’m trying to feel sorry for myself.”

Ellie gave me “the look,” and I backed off, sheepishly.

“Long story short, he was encouraging and cutem and we made a date for tonight. I met him at Antonio’s, and we were having a good time. But after 20 minutes or so, I made a comment about my son, and it was like switching off a light.

“He stood up and complained, ‘You should have told me.’ He was out the door. On top of everything else, he stuck me with the bill!”

“Men are pigs!” I said.

“They can be,” agreed Ellie. “Some are more wolf than pig.”

“Ellie, you are so lucky. Daniel’s a golden retriever, not a wolf. Only once in a while do I catch him staring at my tits.”

“Oops,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it, Daniel. I know you’re my loyal pet,” cooed Ellie.

But while we smiled at each other, Lily burst into full-blown tears.

“(Sniffle.) It’s not the first time. When I tell a guy I’m a single mother with a 4-year-old son, they act like I sprayed them in the face with insecticide. I hate it! I haven’t had sex in two years; my pussy is all dust and spiderwebs. I’m thinking I might have more luck screwing another woman.”

“OK,” whispered Ellie. Disbelieving, we both heard her. In a more assured voice, she added, “Join me in our bedroom, Lily. I’m already warmed up, anticipating being with Daniel tonight. C’mon, don’t be shy.”

Ellie stood up, holding Lily’s hand, and they moved off together. Over her shoulder, Ellie told me to “stay” along with a dog handler’s hand motion. Where did that come from? I slumped back in the armchair and restarted the TV.

Less than an hour later, Ellie returned and sat in my lap for an open-mouthed session of tongue wrestling.