Chapter 21

Chuck didn’t knock or seek permission to enter the bedroom. When he went into the room, he made sure to close the door. Trudy was lying on her bed in a fetal position, sobbing again. She seemed to sob a lot, but he decided he wasn’t going to let that bother him. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but whatever it was, it was intimate, and it suggested that their relationship was headed for something deeper than mere friendship. That made him happy, though he couldn’t explain why. He also couldn’t explain why he even wanted a relationship with this woman. He’d never been interested in an older woman before this, especially a woman with a child. The one older woman he’d been with had been out of curiosity and serendipity. She’d basically used him to get her rocks off.

He didn’t feel sorry for Trudy, in this situation. He knew that much. Shit happens and people either deal with it or they don’t. At least that had always been his attitude about things. Now he was beginning to understand there is some kind of middle ground in all that, where issues might be partly dealt with, but not completely handled. One thing he did know was that she had tried to deal with the crap life had thrown at her. She had guts, if nothing else. Dancing like that must have taken a lot of bravery. He knew how reserved she was, how wary of men she was. What she had offered him during those short musical offerings was honestly a gift; something precious.

Now she lay, half naked on the bed, crying. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to touch her, reassure her, but he sensed that might backfire.

There was a quilt folded long-ways at the foot of the bed. He unfolded it and covered her with it. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, softly.

“No it isn’t,” she moaned, but her sobs subsided.

“Sure it is,” he said. “They’re your friends.”

“Nobody’s seen me like that,” she whimpered. “Nobody but Bob,” she added. Even the African men hadn’t been treated to a strip tease.

“We’ll get through it,” he said.

She straightened and rolled, under the quilt.

“We’ll get through it?”

“Sure,” he said. “You did it for me.” He paused. “Didn’t you? I mean I don’t know why you did it for me, but it was for me, right?”

“I’m such a slut,” she groaned.

“Stop. You’re not a slut. It doesn’t matter what happened to you, or how you had to deal with it. You’re not a slut. I don’t hang around with sluts.”

“I stripped for you!” she sniffed.

“Yes, and nobody else has ever done that. It was...” He grasped for the right words. “It was beautiful.”

“You just liked seeing me naked,” she argued.

“Okay, sure. What guy wouldn’t want to see a hot woman naked? But this was different. This was special. You haven’t done it for anybody else, and nobody else has ever done that for me. That makes it special. Thank you.” He paused and let her think. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,” she sighed.

“Why did you do that for me?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I did it on impulse.”

“Well, I enjoyed it on impulse,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out what it means.”

“Can I ask you a question, now?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t understand. I saw you.”

“Did you see a foolish old woman?”

He paused, and while he thought, he realized where some of her angst was coming from. Her self-image was flawed.

“No,” he said. “Neither foolish nor old. I saw a beautiful woman, a sexy woman. I saw a woman who was able to be vulnerable and share something secret with me. I saw a brave woman. She danced so beautifully. I saw your muscles bunching, and I saw how flexible you are. I could never do half the things on that pole you did. I saw an athlete, actually.”

“Do you really think I’m sexy?” she asked, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear it.

“When I came in here I covered you up because I thought you were embarrassed. I hoped it would help you.” He swallowed. This next part might go badly. “But I didn’t want to cover you up. I wanted to look at you. I want to look at you now. But how you feel is more important than wanting that.”

She stayed silent for so long he started to worry.

“If you could see me, but still not be able to touch me ... would you want to do that?”

“That would be hard. It was good that you had rules. I wanted to touch you a lot.”

Her hands appeared at the edge of the quilt. They started moving the cloth down. Her shoulders were exposed, and then her clavicles, and then her upper chest. He realized he was holding his breath, and let it out as her upper chest came into view. He held his breath again as the edge of the quilt got to her areolas. His eyes flickered to hers, which were watching his eyes intently.

“Please don’t stop,” he whispered.

“You can’t touch,” she whispered back.

“Okay, but please don’t stop.”

She uncovered her breasts in a rush. There was enough elasticity to them that they lay partway down the sides of her chest, with a flat space where cleavage should have been. Her nipples were soft and flat.

“I sag,” she commented.

“Those are breasts that have been through the wars,” he said. “I admire them.”

“Admire?”

“Babies have suckled from them. I’m so envious of those babies.”

“You want to touch them?”

“Touch them, and kiss them, and suck them,” he said, going for broke.

“You could have young, firm breasts.”

“Maybe I could, but I’d like these just as much.”

“If you sucked these, you’d taste milk,” she said.

“That doesn’t bother me,” he said. “What does it taste like?”

“I don’t know. I’m told sweet, but I don’t know.”

“All I know is Chima is a lucky little boy,” he said. “I have another question.”

“Okay.”

“If they hadn’t come in and ruined things ... would you have gone all the way?”

“Stripped completely, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t plan that far ahead?”

“I was having a very good time. I might have done it all.”

“I’m very unhappy with them right now,” he said. “I would have liked that very much.”

“I could tell.”

“You mean when you felt ... me?”

“Yes. I couldn’t believe I was doing that, but feeling you respond like that made me want to scream.”

“In a good way, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe in the future, you could dance for me again?”

“Nice try.”

“Come on. You said you were having a good time.”

“It wouldn’t be the same to plan it ... for you to know what was coming.”

“I was so surprised I barely remember it. If I wasn’t looking at you right now, I wouldn’t be able to describe you. By next week, I won’t be able to remember anything but your face.”

She actually laughed, the first really positive reaction she’d had since her surprise had been destroyed by embarrassment.

“If you’re not going to do that again, can I see the rest, now?” he asked boldly.

“You want to see me ... naked?”

“Desperately,” he sighed.

“With Bob and the others out there?”

“Fuck Bob and the others. I’ll lock the door.”

She stared at him. He had no idea that his interest in her, and the fact that he wasn’t slavering or pushing her, made her feel horny as hell. Her embarrassment had already been displaced. It would return when she left the room, but right now, the fact he could see her naked breasts didn’t bother her at all. The thought of letting him see more was ... titillating.

“You still can’t touch,” she said.

He stood, and then sat on his hands.

She sat up.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Not on the bed. I want you in a chair.”

Now he stood.

“Be right back,” he said. He went to the door, opened it and then closed it after him. Less than sixty seconds later he knocked, and waited until she invited him in. He had the chair he’d been sitting in with him. He placed it on the carpet between the bed and door and the sat down, letting his hands hang.

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Dancing For Daddy

Lubrican

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