Chapter 14

Paul’s turn:

So it really happened. We moved the Carvers from their beach cabin up into town to a slot in a retirement community. And we drove home, Barb and I, to what used to be my Fortress of Solitude but is now OUR place.

It wasn’t our first morning waking as a couple, but it’s the beginning of what I intend to be a long string of them. ‘Forever’ works in my thinking.

We did a real breakfast this time to mark the occasion. We also do dry cereal or various grains done in the rice cooker using its timer. Well, I do. We’ll see what that redhead will accept as breakfast.

After the meal, we determined that it was just warm enough for coffee downstairs. I think I can get used to this. It used to be solitary time for me, but bringing Barb into my life, I find that we can do well together without talking just as easily as we share pleasant conversations about any subject that might come up.

I find it quite pleasant to turn my head and see that short red hair and freckles looking at the waves washing up on the beach.

“You know people dream about this, don’t you?” she queried.

“I do know that. I used to do this by myself. It’s even better with you.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I sat with Gramma and Grampa when they did this, and I found out that YOU did it alone. I worried that I was intruding on something you needed on your own.”

“Nope. Didn’t know I needed you until you showed up. Now it makes things better.”

“Good! Now I need to get Donnabella out of medieval garb and into modern clothes. I suspect that panties won’t be difficult, but that bra thing...”

“Who’s going to explain this to her?” I asked. “I don’t know that Jerry’s going to be the best choice.” Jerry’s the man that Donnabella ran into first when she was pushed into the twenty-first century.

“Jerry’s going to ask his sister.”

“Oh, that oughta be fun. ‘Sis, this is Donnabella. She just showed up from twelfth century Ireland and she needs some help with being a twenty-first century female.’ I still haven’t figured out how to explain YOU to my sister.”

“You know she needs to know, baby,” she said. “You have this major change in your life. She needs to at least know that I exist.”

“I know,” I replied. “One reason is that she’s my backup if something happens to me. Not just to make decisions, well, I do have her listed as next of kin and person to be notified if I get messed up ... I need to get YOU on those things.”

“I guess that’s something we need to talk about, Paul. I don’t like to think of something happening to you, but if it did...”

“Time for me to do lawyer crap,” I sighed. “Will, beneficiary, all that crap. If something happens to me, all that’s mine is yours.”

“Next time we visit Gramma and Grampa we need to talk to them about these things, too.”

“We bring that subject up, they’re gonna start thinking we’re serious about one another.”

I giggled. “Might start thinking that, huh? So what DO we tell your sister?”

“I dunno. I’ve thought about it, but haven’t come up with anything good.”

“Well, I am doing those free on-line college courses. If you say ‘college student’ and don’t mention age, well...”

“But if she comes out and asks?”

She grinned. “I’ll lie my butt off. I don’t know how she could prove anything but what we tell ‘er unless she gets nosey.”

“Sometimes she is. I’m her brother. Last time she heard I had broken up with a somewhat serious girlfriend and had sworn to celibacy.”

“So you’re still celibate, you just decided to give a college student and writer a place to crash in exchange for help. Writing. Housekeeping.” She smirked. “Relief of sexual tensions.”

“I don’t think we’ll mention that particular aspect. I’m sure that seeing your delectable self will allow her imagination to run wild on its own.”

“I’ll wear frumpy ‘serious student’ clothes. I already don’t look like a sex object and I can take the idea further.”

“She knows that one of the constants in my previous relationships was that none of those girls was, shall we say, intellectually compatible.”

“You’re all about the brains, right?”

“Yes.”

“Until we start kissing.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “For somebody who never did any kissing, yours will raise the dead.”

“Why, thank you, sir.” Barb tilted her thermal mug back. Empty.

“Me, too,” I said, waving my mug. “Upstairs?”

“Yeah. A little too cool down here. I never tried typing in a jacket before.”

Barb’s Turn:

So upstairs we went. I put water on to boil.

“What’s that for?”

“Hot chocolate. I almost got chilled.”

“Good idea.”

With hot chocolate comes inspiration. We both dove back into the manuscripts we’ve been working on.

About an hour into the session I pushed my chair back. “Just so you know, you’re getting stubbly again.”

He does this expression when I catch him off guard, involves raising an eyebrow. “You’re writing and THAT’S what goes through your mind?”

“Does that make me a BAD girl?” I asked in my most innocent voice.

“No, but it makes you an even bigger distraction than normal.”

“I don’t mean to be a distraction, but, you know, I’ll do yours if you’ll do mine...”

“Grrrrrr!” He closed the screen on his laptop.

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the shower. Both of us were nude, I had Paul lathered up, and I was very carefully shaving my favorite toy. I made him turn around and bend over so I could properly get the underside of his sack, then rinsed the area off. He turned around, I rinsed the rest.

Okay, I’m still sitting, he’s standing. There it is. I don’t handle this temptation well. Mmmm! I mean, it’s freshly washed, so no taste, but there’s texture aplenty and he quivers. Hardens.

Oh, THERE’S the taste. But not all the way. I stand, kiss him, and announce “My turn!”

Following my final rinse, we both towel off and head for bed to what Paul calls the QC checks. Quality of workmanship is clearly satisfied, as are the both of us.

We allow ourselves a bit of post-coupling ennui, then it’s into something suitable for a bike ride up the beach road. The shoulders are wide, traffic is sparse, and it can’t get much flatter, a whole two feet above high tide for miles. We get a few – forty minutes of brisk speed --, a quartering headwind out becomes a welcome tailwind for the trip back.

Biking like this is pleasant. It’s the sound of tires whispering on pavement, the wind rushing at my ears, the sound of the nearby surf, the cries of seabirds on the beach. We take turns leading. The one in front bucks the wind, the one behind has less effort because he’s in the draft of the front guy.

I never learned this myself. Honestly, my bike riding was often just rolling up the beach a ways, then back, sometimes in the company of others my age. Paul had ridden in college, apparently with people who were in the ‘serious hobbyist’ range and he’d learned some things.

We also walk and jog. Jogging at a comfortable pace along the surf line is great, too, in that ‘wind and sound’ way.

Paul’s kayak is probably not going to see use until next spring. I saw him going out by himself several times before he moved in, never worked up the courage to ask to occupy the second hole. After we became friends we did go out twice into the gulf on calmer days. It’s fun and good exercise as well, as in “YOU go in the front seat.”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure you paddle your fair share.”

I’m saying all that to explain that our lives aren’t just writing and sex. I’m happily anticipating the growth as we fit ourselves to one another full time.

Back in the house after the bike run, we both strip off and hit the shower.

I still get little fits of excess modesty. I start to cover myself and then stop to think that first, this guy LOVES me totally and unconditionally, second, he’s seen me in ways I can’t ever see me, although I’ve used my cellphone (and HE’S used his phone) to try.

“You’re doing it, right?” he asks me when he notices.

“Yeah, but I’m getting better. I mean, I STRIP for you because I know you love it.”

“Uh-huh. And worse than that is you in those damned hiphugger panties. That little butt of yours...”

He likes me. Adores me. Always wanted ... well, honestly I never thought much about some guy wanting my body like this, but now that I’ve got it, it’s essential to my life. For the next few days life just happened without a formal plan. We wrote for a session in the morning and early afternoon. Late afternoon was outdoor exercise, except that one day when we rained out.

We do have a pretty good indoor exercise regimen, though.

And we did a day for visiting Gramma and Grampa and attending the functions that require us to go into town.

Gramma and Grampa regaled us with stories of new friends and choices of activities, promising to have some of them meet us if we wanted. I think that’s a good idea. We discussed my continuing home schooling.