Chapter 4

I have no idea why it bothered me that Gloria was suddenly "possible", but it did. Maybe it was because I really liked her, and the relationship we already had, and didn't want that to change. It's possible that I was scared that, if I tried to "pursue things", or even if SHE tried to pursue them, I might not perform ... um ... up to standard ... hers OR mine. I don't think I was worried about getting caught, but who knows. All I know was that her being suddenly possible upset me.

"I don't' want to think about you like that," I said suddenly.

"Like what?" she asked.

"It's one thing to close my eyes at night and... " I stopped. You don't tell a woman you beat off to her picture in your head. Not even if you squirted to a real picture of her. "I mean, I don't want to come here and only think about you ... um ... like your picture."

"Is that how you think about me?" she asked, her voice very soft. I couldn't actually look at her. "At night?"

"You can't ask a guy a question like that," I objected.

"Why not?"

"Because a guy's not supposed to admit that kind of stuff, that's why."

"Too late," she said. "I already asked."

"But I like you," I said.

"Thank you. I like you too." She wasn't making this any easier.

I tried my trump card. "You said you decided not to seduce me, right?"

"Uh huh," she said.

"Well, then, it wouldn't be right for me to think about you that way."

I felt proud of myself for making such a strong argument.

"What if I change my mind?" she asked.

I looked at her. She was messing with my head, and I was not happy about it.

"How would it make you feel if I said I lie in bed, and think about you na ... like in that picture ... and do things? How would that make you feel?" I asked harshly. I didn't give her time to answer. It never occurred to me I was doing the same thing my mother did. "It would make you horrified!"

She got a squinty look on her face, like she'd tasted something sour.

"See?!" I said. "Just thinking about it makes you get all icky feeling!"

She covered her mouth, but her eyes gave her away. She was smiling behind that hand. I suddenly realized she had been trying not to smile, rather than being horrified.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she said, when her face got straight again. "I need to tell you something."

"What?" I said, my voice surly.

"I find you very attractive," she said seriously. "The thought of you thinking about me like that doesn't horrify me. It makes me ... horny."

I think I said "Ohhhh shit," or something like that.

"If we're going to keep spending time together, I want us to be honest with each other," she said. "It won't be real, unless we're honest, and one of the things I like about you the most is how real you are."

"But I think about..." I couldn't finish.

"I think about it too," she said softly. "I don't think we should do anything about it ... not yet anyway ... but I like to think about it, and it makes me feel really good that you think about that too."

"You're kidding me," I groaned.

"Why would I kid you about something like this?" she asked.

"I don't know," I sighed. "I just know this can't be real. A woman like you can't ... feel that way about a kid like me."

She stood up.

"You need to go now," she said, her voice husky. "Because if you don't go now, I'm going to do something very stupid, and I don't want to do that." She was breathing deeply, and it did the most amazing things to her breasts.

Something in her voice sounded ... dangerous ... and I got up without thinking about it. She looked right at my boner, and a little sound came out of her throat that just about made me squirt again. I knew, in that instant, that Gloria Wilson was not only possible, but that somehow, some day, Gloria Wilson would change my whole world.

That, at that moment, was more than enough for me.

I fled.

I didn't see her again for a week. During that week, I thought a lot about what had happened. I thought about that one little three letter word she had used when she said we shouldn't do anything about our feelings... "yet". Just the thought that "yet" might eventually become "now" really got me going.

As a result, I beat my meat mercilessly, to the point that I got sore. Slowly, the thought that there was something very precious over there seeped into my head, in a way that made me want to be very careful of it. I was still nervous, but knowing that a woman wants you has a way of settling you down a little bit. Your self confidence gets a big boost or something, and the urgency to prove yourself, or whatever it is that drives boys my age to have sex immediately, if not sooner, seemed to wane a little.

And, in a strange kind of way, knowing that it wasn't "yet", was comforting. The world of sex was a big, scary world, for a kid like me. It was a little like standing on the high dive at the pool, for the first time, and looking down at the water. You want to go, but it's scary. You know it will be fun, but it's scary. Sometimes, you climb back down, where it's safe. You go off the low board a few more times. I thought like that about Gloria. I wanted to dabble in it ... I didn't want to just jump right in.

Then again, maybe I got it out of my system by beating my meat until it was sore. I don't know. All I know is that I wasn't afraid to see her again.

I also thought about how my dad had looked at me funny, during our "talk", and said I was a lucky guy. I wondered if he knew how lucky I was, or was just guessing. Either way, it was spooky.

The next time I saw her was actually in public. I had gotten my driver's license, and I was Johnny-on-the-spot whenever Mom needed something from the store. She'd sent me to get some flour, because she was baking cookies, and I ran into Gloria in the baking goods aisle.

The first thing she did that made me feel good, was just smile a normal smile.

"Hi, Bobby," she said, as if nothing had happened.

"What's up, Mrs. Wilson?" My manner in public took precedence over her desire for me to call her by her first name. She didn't bat an eye.

"Not much. Just doing some shopping. How 'bout you?"

"My mom is making cookies and ran out of flour."

"Oh, then you'd better not delay," she said seriously. "Baking cookies is serious business. Bring me one, OK?"

"Sure," I said.

Just like that. There wasn't anybody around, and we weren't play acting. It was just the two of us, and it was as normal as pie.

Then I didn't know what kind of flour to get. You'd be amazed at how many different kinds of flour there are. So, knowing Gloria baked a mean pie, I asked her.

"For cookies? What kind?" she probed.

"Chocolate Chip," I said.

"All purpose," she said, pointing.

Just like that. I said "Thanks," and she said "No problem," and I was on my way. I didn't even get a boner. I was amazed.

When I got back home I was in a good mood. I gave the flour to my mother and told her I hoped it was the right kind.

"Perfect," she said.

"Good," I said casually. "Cause I didn't know what kind to get, and I ran into Mrs. Wilson at the store, and she said that was probably it."

My mother shot me a look, but even she couldn't make herself think that "that woman" and I were having clandestine meetings at the supermarket.

"It's fine, dear," she said.

"When will they be done?" I asked.

"Patience!" she ordered, and shooed me out of the kitchen.

Mom never gave out cookies until she was completely done. Don't ask me why, but she counted them all each time too. Two hours later I got my day's ration of six cookies, and headed out the back door.

One nice thing about being Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent, was that your parents rarely asked you where you were going. So, when I hit the alley, and went two doors down to the gate, nobody was around, and I opened the gate and walked on in.

Gloria was lying out in the sun, getting a tan. She had on a white swim suit. I'm being charitable here. At first I thought she was naked, except for a cord around her waist, and another one across her back that had a knot, tied in a bow, in the middle of it. I've been to the pool plenty of times, and I've seen all kinds of swim suits, but not like this one. Maybe in a magazine, but not in public. She heard the gate close, and lifted her head to look my way.

"Did you bring me a cookie?" she asked, like she was fully clothed.

"Yes, I did," I said, with more dignity than I felt. "Maybe two, if you're good." I walked closer. She was still looking at me.

"You have six cookies," she pointed out.

"My daily ration," I said. "I don't get any more until tomorrow."

"Please tell me you're joking," she said, smiling.

"Nope," I said.

"I should get three," she said. "I wore this for you."

I shoved all six at her and she laughed. She took one, and bit into it.

"Your mom's a good cook," she said. "Me too," she added. "I have a pie in the oven for you. Cherry ... your favorite."

"How did you know that?" I asked, amazed.

"I've seen you at the picnics. You always get a piece of my cherry pie before you get anything else." She smiled. "If it's apple, or lemon meringue, or pumpkin, you wait until you've eaten.

"You noticed that?" I asked.

"I know who eats my pie, and who doesn't," she said cryptically.

"You want another cookie?" I asked.

"I don't want to dig into your ration," she said smiling.

"It's worth it, if you really did wear that for me," I said.

She smiled again. "You always make me feel so good," she said. "I couldn't let you see me like I am in the painting, but I thought this might do."

"You have no idea," I said.

It was amazing, once you got past the idea that you shouldn't talk about things like that, how nice it was to just be honest about things. I was about half hard, but it didn't bother me that day, because I knew she expected me to get that way. She didn't mind me looking at her, because she expected me to. It was really cool.

"I should go check the pie," she said. "Besides, you probably want to see the rest of this bikini."

"In the worst possible way," I said, panting on purpose.

She laughed again and stood up.

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