Chapter 1

Everything was finally coming together. Two weeks after finishing grad school I had an interview for a teaching position at a very good university. This would mean relocation if I got the job, but I would deal with that if and when it became real. No matter what, I was looking forward to a move. The relationship I had been in for the last two years ended with graduation. It was a mutual parting, as both of us were more friends with benefits than seriously and romantically involved, just two grad students seeking stress relief with shared meals and sex.

Universities are not known to be fast with the hiring process so I was surprised when I got a phone call with a job offer. After talking through all the finer points, I readily accepted the offer to join the English faculty. Now I could stop the job hunting and focus on relocation. The move would be easy. Grad students don’t accumulate much in the way of belongings. The challenge would be finding housing. The only person I knew in my soon-to-be hometown was Aunt Adeline. Well, she wasn’t really a relative, just a long-time friend of the family who was always referred to as Aunt Ad. She had recently sold her home and moved into a small townhouse, but she had lived in the city forever and would be a good source of information on just about everything. A quick scouting trip was in order.

Aunt Ad was delighted to hear my news. I told her I would be in town in three days to start the search for a place to live. She insisted that I stay with her while I house hunt, and I then insisted that I take her to dinner Friday evening when I arrived.

Dinner was not only wonderful, but I learned about best restaurants, grocery stores, specialty shops, doctors, dentists and what all.

“That’s great info, Aunt Ad, but my main concern is finding a place to live.”

“Well, she replied, I’ve given that some thought, too. You know the neighborhood where I used to live is one of the best in the city.”

“I do know that, but my university salary doesn’t have the horsepower to get me there,” I said. “I need to look into a more affordable situation.”

“Now don’t get upset with me for being pushy, but I called a friend back in the old neighborhood.”

Oh boy, where was this headed? I had an immediate vision of me renting a dusty, moth-balled room in a huge old house that came with an 80-year-old owner/roommate. After ultra-small apartments and group housing for the past few years, I was thinking more of independence, and while not large, comfortable and private quarters.

“My friend, Beverly, might be able to help you with a place to live.”

Yup, here it comes. I have to find a way of getting out of this tactfully.

“Let me tell you about Beverly and explain why I called her. But before I do that, I can see by your body language that you’re less than thrilled at my intervention. I would never put you in an awkward situation, so just hear me out”

During the next several minutes I learned that Aunt Ad and Beverly had been neighborhood acquaintances for several years, always giving one another cordial greetings, but no real friendship developed, largely because of their age differences. Ad, who was in her late 60s, guessed Beverly to be in her mid-to-late-40s. Their friendship deepened when she befriended Bev after her husband died the previous summer. Dan was quite a bit older than Beverly and had a major heart attack while working in the yard and never made it to the hospital alive.

Since then, Ad had provided meals and companionship, but more significantly a ready listener as Beverly worked her way through grief.

“We played a lot of gin rummy and binge watched a lot of TV,” said Ad. “She wasn’t without friends, but most were couples and she felt odd being with them without her partner, Dan.”

“Anyway, let me get to the real point.”

As Ad explained, Beverly had a small guest house in the back of their 2-acre lot, tucked nicely among several pine trees. According to Ad, you could barely see it from Bev’s back porch. In addition, with Dan gone the guest house, main house and yard needed some tender care. Dan was a great guy, but started a lot of things, but never seemed to get them completed. A prime example was an automatic garage door opener that sat on the floor in the corner of the garage for now more than a year.

Every morning Ad watched Bev struggle opening and closing the garage door and suggested that they get a door opener. Bev made the purchase, but Dan never got around to making the install.

After hearing all this I was a bit ashamed thinking that aunt Ad was indeed being pushy. It actually sounded like she might be arranging the perfect solution for me. I sat there feeling stupid as she called Beverly and asked if I could come by the next morning to check out the guest house and chat with her about possibly renting the place and helping her out with chores and maintenance. I doubted that the chores would be very difficult and they might even keep me in shape. Through grad school I had hit the gym hard to burn off the stress and I liked the results and wanted to keep them. I had trimmed my six-foot frame to 180 pounds and my friend-with-benefits partner loved hanging on my arm at social events with her girlfriends. It was a nice ego boost.

I admit to being a bit anxious driving through Ad’s old neighborhood the next morning, excited about the prospects of this working out. I would be incredibly lucky to land a place in this area of beautiful upscale homes. Ad’s former home was directly across the street from Beverly’s and as I approached, there was Beverly struggling to open the garage door aunt Ad told me about. I zipped in the drive, causing her to stop and look up.

“Whoa, let me get that for you.”

“You must be Rob,” said this well put together attractive woman.

“And you must be Beverly,” I replied as I turned the door handle and lifted the door open.

It was a wood framed, large two-stall garage door and I was impressed that Beverly could even get this open. She stood about 5-7 and couldn’t weigh more than 130 pounds. The door, even though assisted by heavy springs, still outweighed her by at least 50 pounds.

Obviously, she had been watching for my arrival. I wasn’t surprised by that, but I was surprised to look closely at the woman before me. She wasn’t the widow-in-mourning type at all. She had a slim athletic build set off by pressed tan shorts, a sharp white blouse and sandals. Her makeup was subdued, if she used any at all, on an olive-tinted flawless complexion. She wore her jet-black hair shoulder length that curved, gently framing a lovely face. She looked at me with an easy smile and welcomed me to her home.

“Hi, Beverly, Ad told me that you’ve had a difficult year. I was saddened to hear about your husband. I cannot even imagine and regardless whether we come to some kind of living arrangements I will make sure that garage door opener gets installed.”

“Thank you, that would be a big help.”

“No problem at all. I actually enjoy doing things like that. It’s fun to work on a project that gets completed and is useful.”

“I loved my Dan dearly, but I do have to say he was good at starting although finishing was not his strong suite.”

We then walked through the garage and out the back door. Beverly was leading the way through a small grove of pines to the guest house, tucked neatly in among the trees. The little home was small, a combination kitchen living room, a single good-sized bedroom and a decent size full bathroom. Bookshelves were in all rooms but the bathroom and there was even a small desk, work station, in the bedroom. I was thinking how absolutely perfect this would be when Bev mentioned that utilities and internet were provided. We sat at the small kitchen table and came up with a more than reasonable monthly rent. It included me having to care for yardwork and a few other simple chores, but it was a steal and the location was only a few miles from the university.

“Beverly, you have absolutely made me a very happy guy. I’m staying with Ad, as she probably mentioned, and former grad students travel light. So, all my belongings are at her place and I can move in whenever it is most convenient. I know I can also stay with her for a while if necessary.”

“That really won’t be necessary. You can move in later today. I will be home and will set out keys on the guest house table.”

“Do you have any questions for me, I asked, then volunteered that I wasn’t a party guy and could furnish references.”

Bev laughed.

“Your aunt Adeline has been a real cheerleader on your behalf and told me all about you and your family. I hoped this would work out and it gives me great comfort having a man about the house once again.”

I was beside myself with excitement as I drove back to Ad’s townhouse. Little did I know just how lucky I would become.

Moving in to Beverly’s guest house was almost embarrassing at how quickly it happened. Even I didn’t realize how few things I possessed. Clothes and books dominated, followed by my laptop and camera and some additional electronics for music and photography. I would make a grocery list tonight and stock up on real food. Ramen would not be on the list, maybe ever. I would grab a quick lunch now and then see about that garage door opener.

As Ad foretold, the box with the garage door opener sat unopened, pushed over to the side of the garage. The garage was neat and clean with shelving all around and housed a sporty little Toyota Celica. I could see her scooting around town. Bev was not the widow type. I guessed her age to be 45, but she could have passed for 35, only her hands and skin around the eyes tipped my guess to over 40. I also had enjoyed watching her walk across the yard ahead of me. I looked forward to spending time helping out. She told me she would leave me alone and not be a nuisance, but I wouldn’t mind at all if she checked on things.

Bev left me to open the box and go over the instructions.

“Holler if you need anything,” she said.

The assembly process was straight forward and didn’t look terribly difficult. The booklet gave a tool list and hints on how to get the main motor in place if you were a one-person installation team. That would be helpful. I had tools in my car and Beverly told me to feel free to use Dan’s tools.

She pointed to the ladder in the corner of the garage and said that all Dan’s tools were in the boxes above the work bench and to help myself. She asked me to get the three boxes from the shelf and she would go through them with me, mentioning that the wooden wine box on the end was a mystery to her. I dutifully set up the ladder and lowered all the boxes to the bench. She immediately lifted off the top on the wine crate while I opened the other two and saw that I would have all the tools I needed, no problem.

I then turned to see what Bev had discovered and noticed that she was blushing and was putting the lid back on the box.

“What’s in there,” I asked, curiously?

“Well, this is a bit embarrassing and If I had known where these items ended up, I would not have asked you to bring it down,” she said.

“Just put the lid on and I will put it back on the shelf, or wherever you’d like it.”

“You could put it back, but I’m sure your curiosity is up and you’d probably just investigate when you had the opportunity.”

“No, I wouldn’t. If you want it up there and private that’s fine. I will leave it alone, but I think I can guess easily enough.”

Bev gave me a curious smile and said, “seriously, you think you know what is in the box? I didn’t even know where this stuff was stored. One of our good friends helped me go through Dan’s things and packed them away, telling me they were in the garage and also in the storage space above the ceiling in the hallway to the bedrooms. A few months ago, I wondered where some of our personal items were, but hadn’t gotten around to look.”

“My bet is, that the wine box contains your late husband’s porn stash, more than likely. No big deal. It might be a bit embarrassing that you just discovered it in front of me, whom you just met, but hey, we’re both adults.”

“OK, I am embarrassed and I would greatly appreciate it if you do not tell Adeline about our little discovery.”

“Bev, I said, smiling, “What happens in your garage, stays in your garage.”

She laughed, which eased the tension of the moment, and setting the wine box lid aside, told me to have a look and then come in for a drink and added that she certainly needed one. I told her that I didn’t need to go through the box unless she wanted and she quickly said she hoped that I would help her with some other chores during my time here and didn’t want anything hanging over us.

As it turned out, I was spot on with my guess of a porn stash. But after going through a few Playboy and Penthouse magazines on the surface I found that the deeper confines of the box contained some totally hardcore porn. Now my curiosity was at a high pitch and I wondered if this were Dan’s solo kink or a shared adventure. As I headed to the kitchen, I hoped that Bev would be willing to add some detail.

I found her sitting at the kitchen table which afforded a view of a nicely landscaped backyard. She was holding a glass of white wine and met me with a look that questioned whether I was OK with what I’d seen, or if I was going to leave without the offered drink. I responded by picking up the bottle of chardonnay and pouring myself a glass.

“I thought you might take a bit more time going through the dirty library,” she said. “Must be you didn’t like what you saw.”

I laughed. “Not at all, I just figured that the longer I looked the more difficult it would be to hide my reaction.”

“Reaction as in erection,” she guessed.

“Now it’s my turn to be a bit embarrassed.”

“Beverly, do you want me to get rid of those for you? I can do that discreetly and easily. No problem.”

“Please, just call me Bev, and no you needn’t toss them out. You can borrow them if you want to. If you are interested in taking your time going through them. Some private time, I mean.”

“Well, I will admit to being more than just a bit curious about the magazines. I could take them back to the guest house and not even hide them under the bed like I used to when I was a teen. I’ve outgrown that.”

“I don’t think you ever outgrow, liking those things, said Beverly. I know I still enjoy looking at them. I was just shocked that the friend who helped me store some of our things put them right there and didn’t tell me. He did say that he stored things in the attic and I thought the magazines were what he meant.”

“So, this wasn’t just your husband’s hidden collection?”