Chapter 18: A Great Weekend

July 1978

Friday was a completely normal day at the deli, and Jennifer and Melanie joined me for lunch. When they found out I didn’t have plans for that evening, they suggested dinner. I agreed, and after work we went to a diner and had a great time, renewing our mutual friendship. It was clear that the girls had spoken about what they wanted, and I was reasonably sure what they had decided. I planned to talk to Jennifer about it after dinner on Sunday.

On Saturday, I left home a few minutes early. I was taking no chances at all, so before going to the deli, I stopped by the apartment and adjusted the envelope. There was no way I was going to miss a meal with Joyce, even if we never made it to bed.

It was another normal day at the deli, and Melanie joined Jennifer and me for lunch again. I was really happy that we were getting back to normal. I was also glad that I had taken the approach that I had. I was sad that it took Birgit’s death to fix things and admitted that I would trade it to have her back. I wondered if the pain ever went completely away.

I was able to think about her without bursting into tears, but every good thought was accompanied by ‘but she died’. That was depressing, and I was still angry with God about her death. I was still angry with my mom. I also hated my brother. I was still upset with Melanie over Pete, but my anger had passed. And I was upset with Birgit for dying, but my anger had passed as well.

At quitting time, I walked out and saw Joyce leaning against her car. She was wearing a short skirt, halter top, headband, sandals, and dark sunglasses. She had on cherry-red lipstick and was the epitome of sexy. I walked over to her and we exchanged a kiss.

“The apartment free?” she asked.

“Yes. I made sure of it this morning, early.”

“Good, let’s go!”

We drove over, grabbed the food out of the trunk, and took it into the building. Joyce pushed her sunglasses up on her head, walked upstairs with me, and then put things in the fridge and freezer. I turned on the music and pulled down the shades. I removed my shoes and socks and she removed her sandals.

“So,” she smirked, “sex before or after dinner?”

“Both?” I asked hopefully.

She laughed, “I think we can accommodate that! Can I make a request, then?”

“Of course!”

“Before dinner, just screw me hard and fast. After dinner, just slow lovemaking. I mean really slow and passionate. Make it last as long as possible.”

“I think I can manage that. Come here.”

She walked over to me and I took her in my arms and gave her a rough kiss. I took her sunglasses and put them on the table next to the bed, then quickly removed her halter top and strapless bra. I had an interesting thought and reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties.

“Leaving the skirt on?”

“Yeah,” I said, “it seems sexy.”

The sight of her like that had me hard almost instantly. I quickly stripped off my clothes and pulled her into an embrace. We kissed and moved to the side of the bed and basically fell in. Joyce was laughing at that. I planted several kisses on her neck and then suckled first her right, then her left breast. I kissed my way down her stomach, skipped over her skirt, and kissed her thigh just below where the material ended.

I slowly began kissing up her thigh, my head under her skirt. Her aroma told me she was ready, but I wanted to taste her. I jammed my tongue into her pussy and licked hard and fast. She bucked a little and let out a soft moan.

I pushed her skirt up around her waist, crawled on top of her, French kissed her and pushed hard into her. I sank most of the way in with that first thrust. I propped myself on my hands and knees for better control, withdrew most of the way, and then pushed in hard and deep. I picked up the pace, faster and harder, until I was breathing hard just from the exertion.

Our flesh slapped together as she began to meet every thrust by driving her hips upwards. She began panting and wrapped her legs tight around my waist to prevent bucking me off. She was moaning constantly, and I was getting close. I knew I couldn’t keep up this pace for much longer and slightly changed the angle. I felt my orgasm was very close at that point and increased the pace, but decreased how hard I was screwing her.

I groaned and began shooting jets of cum into her, driving deeply into her. Joyce bucked her hips twice more and groaned as she came. I felt her pussy squeezing and releasing me as she slowly ground her clit into me. We collapsed in a sweaty heap. After a few kisses, I carefully withdrew, trying to avoid getting anything on her skirt.

I got up and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. When the temperature was right, I hopped in and rinsed off the sweat and our combined juices. I stepped out and Joyce, who had come into the bathroom as well, stepped in. She had removed her skirt; she stepped into the shower and rinsed off as well. We dried off and went back into the main room.

Joyce pulled an apron out of her bag and put it on.

“Wow, that’s sexy. You should cook that way all the time!”

She laughed and said, “Go sit down.”

I sat on the couch to watch her prepare the meal, paying close attention to her cute butt that stuck out of the apron. She put all the ingredients together and turned the pan on simmer. She came to sit with me.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Better. I’m still sad, but it’s not crushing me like it was. I’m less angry than I was. I think I’ve worked things out with Jennifer and Melanie, and we’re friends again. I’ll most likely start dating Jennifer. Becky and I broke up. The way things look, I’m probably not going to see Anna again. So, I guess it’s Jennifer, Bethany, and you. I don’t really need anyone else at the moment. And you’re the only one of those I’m having sex with right now.”

“Really?”

“Let me rephrase, Becky and I made love right after we broke up, but we’re done by mutual agreement. Anna and I had sex, but she lives too far away because neither of us drive, and as much fun as it was, I need to get my life under control. Bethany and I haven’t even kissed, and aren’t likely to do that, or anything more, for quite some time, if ever. Jennifer and I used to be in a physical relationship, but we’re not at a point where I’m willing to start that again. It might be soon, it might not.”

She got up to check on the food, tasted it, stirred it, and sat down again. She leaned against me and put her head on my shoulder.

“I really like doing this with you,” I said. “It’s like you’re taking care of me and helping me. It’s what you’ve done for the past two weeks. I’m glad.”

“And you get laid, too,” she giggled.

“Well, that’s part of it, but cooking for me, that first shower, just being with me, those are actually more important.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes until she had to finish making dinner. She pulled a stopper out of the same bottle of wine from last time and poured a small amount into our glasses. I went to sit at the table and she served salad, veal piccata, and broccoli. I was blown away by how good it was and told her so.

“My grandmother is old-country Italian. She taught me how to cook.”

“I’ll thank her the next time I see her!”

We finished eating, and she got up and we cleared the dishes, cleaned up, and I sat back down at the table. She made some tea and served us.

“I figured we could go to Graeter’s afterwards, OK?” I suggested.

“Sure,” Joyce agreed.

We drank our tea and talked about all manner of things, especially Pete Rose’s hitting streak, which had reached 23 games the previous day. She poured more tea, and we kept talking. I liked talking to her. We didn’t have relationship issues to deal with, could just be open and honest without any worries.

We finished the tea, and she took my hand and led me to the bed. She dropped the apron onto the floor.

“Slow, gentle, and easy,” Joyce whispered. “Make it last as long as you can, OK?”

“OK.”

We lay down on the bed side by side and began to kiss softly. Her hand went to my groin and began softly stroking me. I played with her butt, rubbing and squeezing her cheeks, occasionally dipping my hand down between her legs. I moved my hand up her flanks, ran my palm across her breast, then gently squeezed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

I slid my hand down her belly, across her thick patch of dark pubic hair, and gently massaged her clit. When I felt she was wet enough, I gently nudged Joyce onto her back and lay down on top of her. We exchanged a few more gentle kisses, and she hugged me tight.

I positioned myself against her and pressed gently in. I moved slowly as I sank into her warmth. She put her heels on my ankles and we developed a slow, gentle rhythm. We looked deep into each other’s eyes, exchanging soft, gentle kisses. She felt silky smooth and her pussy lightly gripped me.

As we slowly made love, I made sure to bring my pelvis into contact with her clit every few strokes, gently grinding against her before resuming the rhythm.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s perfect. Just grind like that every so often.”

Her breathing picked up, but she controlled her reaction, not varying the speed or pattern. I could tell she was trying to slowly build to what I expected to be a tsunami orgasm. We continued for another minute or so and I felt her shudder gently and she exhaled hard.

I repeated the sequence twice more, and she shuddered and exhaled again. I could tell she was on edge. This happened two more times.

“Just keep going,” she gasped.

I did as she asked. About two minutes later, I felt her body tense up, then she shook very hard, hugged me tightly, and groaned loudly as her vaginal muscles clenched and unclenched.

“Keep going!” she urged.

I stroked her through that orgasm and we set about building another. This one was easier, taking only a couple of minutes.

“One more, please, then you can cum.”

I continued for a few more minutes, this time, trying to time it so we came together. It was close, she groaned loudly and her pussy clamped hard on my dick and she ground herself into me. About 15 seconds later, my orgasm overtook me and I groaned nearly as loudly as she had as a wave of pleasure crashed over me and I thrust deep to shoot into her.

We were both panting and just lay there to recover. After a minute, I slid off and pulled her to cuddle me. She raised her head to look into my eyes and kissed me. I saw something. Something that frightened me. Images of Becky flashed through my mind.

I thought about that last time Becky and I were together, making love, cooking dinner, sleeping in each other’s arms. I had thought of what it was like to be married. I was getting the same feeling and I her eyes told me that she was as well.

I was in dangerous territory again, just when I had told myself I needed to avoid it. I had to talk to her.

“Joyce,” I said carefully, “I sense something has changed.”

“I think it has,” she confirmed.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I remember our discussion last time and I know we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. But there’s something different now, I guess. The thought has crossed my mind of maybe we could be. Before, it was, I don’t know, a friend helping a friend, I guess. But now it’s different.”

This felt like it was turning into Becky all over again. And I had walked right into it. How could I be so stupid?! So far, only Mary seemed to be able to keep a full separation between sex and love. Melanie came close, but still had her moments. I kept thinking I could separate them, but fell into the trap far too often for that to be true.

I wondered if this was what Birgit was trying to teach me. Teach me that it was so easy to fall in love with someone you had sex with. Was that why I loved Birgit? I didn’t think so, but then again, I never had the chance to find out. And I never would. Fate had ripped her away from me before I could know.

I had told Jennifer that I didn’t love Joyce, but now I was getting those stirrings. I was falling into the same trap once again. I had already fallen in love twice after Birgit. I wrecked both those relationships. One was done, most likely forever. The other one was just getting back on an even keel.

I realized I had not responded to the last thing Joyce said. She had risen up on her elbow and was looking at me intently.

“Steve, talk to me.”

“It’s really complicated,” I replied. “You know I’m conflicted at the moment because of all the emotions that are swirling around. I’m trying to figure out how to deal with them and how to deal with the people in my life I care about. How to avoid hurting them, though I’ve learned that’s often not possible. We can hurt people even when we do the right thing.”

“Are you sorry we did this?”

“No, not at all. I’m afraid of my emotions and feelings. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. Or Jennifer. Or lose you both. It truly frightens me. That happened once already. I wrecked three relationships by being a fool. It took Birgit’s death to even start trying to fix two of them and to deal with the third one properly.”

“Do you want to stop doing this?” Joyce asked.

Suddenly, it was different from Jennifer or Becky. She wasn’t asking with fear in her voice, but concern for me.

“What scares me to death is that I’m feeling things for you that I can’t deal with right now. I thought I could separate sex and love with you. I can’t.”

“Are you talking love like romance, or love like friends? There’s a huge difference, you know? I’ve watched my parents. What keeps them together is the friendship love, not the romantic love. Mom has told me many times that if dad weren’t her friend, it could never have lasted.”

I was a bit confused, so I asked, “Are you saying that friendship love is more dangerous?”

“I think it might be,” Joyce replied, “if sex is involved. Friendship and love, plus sex, is what marriage is about, according to my mom. You start with romantic love and it turns into friendship love or your relationship dies. If you have friendship love, you can survive the times when things aren’t so romantic, and there are lots of those times according to her.”

This was another revelation. And it explained something that Melanie hadn’t ever hit on. And now I had even more insight into Birgit’s likely thinking. I was in love with her, but we couldn’t be together until I loved her. Jennifer and I had loved each other long before we made love.

“So, what does that mean for us?” I asked.

“That’s a good question,” Joyce replied thoughtfully. “I guess the best way to put it is that I like these dinners and lovemaking sessions. I’d like them to continue. I could get used to doing this on a regular basis. I’d like to keep doing it and see where it leads.”

“So your comment about boyfriend/girlfriend before?”

She laughed, “I’m so sorry. What I just said is what I meant. Not that I wanted you as my permanent, exclusive partner now, just that I could see us together in the future. I hadn’t seen that before. Now I do. But I am not asking you for any promises, and I’m not giving any. To be honest, if I didn’t see something like that, I’d end this fairly quickly. I don’t think you need me the same way you did even just a week ago.”

“Did you do those things only because I needed you?”

“Yes. It might have been different if I were still a virgin, but that wasn’t the case. I don’t think giving you my virginity to comfort you would have been good for either of us, and I most likely wouldn’t have done it. But you needed me. Now, you don’t, well, at least not in the same way.”

How did I get so lucky to have so many smart women around me? Not only smart, but beautiful? And willing to have sex with me?

“Can I ask you a question that might be hard to answer?”

“Sure,” Joyce replied. “I’ll try.”

“I’m trying to figure out what it is that smart, beautiful women seem to flock to me for sex. I don’t get it. I’m OK looking, not an athlete, do pretty well in school. What is it about me that causes it?”

“Even when you were hurting, did you ever once think only of using a girl for your own pleasure? Did you ever not focus on her and what she wanted and needed, even if you weren’t able to meet that need? Did you treat them like wrapping paper and discard them as soon as you opened the present? Whether someone clued you in or you figured it out yourself, that’s the secret.”

I’d had that fleeting thought of just having sex with anyone, feelings be damned. But it was fleeting.

“Is it really that simple?”

“No quite; there’s more to it. Think about how you treated me. I suspect you treat every girl the same way. No pressure for anything, just total acceptance of what they want and need. You exude safety. I got naked with you in the shower and you did nothing. I know you were an emotional wreck, but most guys, even in that state, would have tried something. Let me ask you, have you ever turned a girl down for sex? Or been in a situation you could take advantage of and didn’t.”

“Yes, several times. With Becky, she tried three times to have sex with me and I turned her down. The last one of those she was standing naked in front of me begging me to do it. Jennifer and I had a similar experience, though she wasn’t begging. We were naked within inches of each other and she showed no signs, so I didn’t try. Of course, there’s Melanie who offered me a threesome, and I turned her down cold.”

“My gosh!” Joyce gasped in surprise. “That last one says everything you need to know. No guy I know would say ‘no’ in that situation, no matter what. Can you tell me why?”

“She had a steady boyfriend, and I knew him. I refused to violate his trust. Even when she said she had permission, I said ‘no’. I confirmed later that he had, grudgingly, given permission, but only because he trusted me to do the right thing.”

“Think about that for a minute. Her boyfriend trusted you enough to tell her ‘yes’, sure you would say ‘no’. That’s integrity. That’s trustworthiness. And you exude confidence, but without being arrogant. Do you talk about any of your ‘conquests’?”

“I don’t have conquests, Joyce. I have mutually fulfilling sex. It’s not about keeping score or racking up points. And no, I don’t. Well, that’s not quite true. Melanie and Jennifer know everything. You more or less do at this point. But I don’t talk to guys about it. Ever. Even when I’m asked directly.”

“You see, all of that, plus your burning desire to do the right thing and your concern for not hurting other people. That’s the answer to your question. Some girls won’t go for it because they put too much stock in looks or muscles or nice cars. Then there are the ones looking for a ‘bad boy’. But you know what? You don’t want any of them. What type of girls do you have success with?”

“Well, except for Melanie, all of them are basically quiet and reserved. Most of them don’t dress to show off their bodies. Most importantly, all of them are really smart.”

“That makes perfect sense. You spend time with that kind of girl, so other girls like that will see you as someone they could like. I bet if you asked out every girl like that in your class, at least half of them would say ‘yes’. The ones who think they’re hot stuff would all say ‘no’, of course. But they aren’t for you.”

“So, I ask again, Joyce, where are we?”

“We’re two friends who like to be together, who care about each other, and who might, just might, many, many years from now, have a future together. Like you and Birgit. Probably like you and Jennifer. I don’t see this as sharing. I see this as exploration. When I get married, I want to stay married for life. Like my grandparents and my parents. The only way to do that is what I’m doing.”