Chapter 16: Sheila

Upset was not the word for it. I had seen Charlie upset lots of times when we were roommates at Cromwell and later at Pontiac. This was different. Charlie was mad, not angry mad, this was foaming-at-the-mouth mad.

I didn't blame him, nor did I blame Sheila for letting her son find us on the bed in my room, kissing. I blamed myself. I should have stopped it before it began. Refraining from kissing a married woman, albeit a newly married woman who had come into my room and initiated the kiss, was one of the rules I lived by.

All right, I know what you're going to say. Technically, Patti was still married when we first kissed. For that matter she was still married when we slept together the first few times. But that was different; she had filed for divorce and her former husband was living with a new girlfriend. That made it all right, didn't it?

Charlie retreated to his room and took refuge. Sheila tried to talk to him through the door. Charlie wouldn't listen to his mother, who attempted to tell him she had come into my room to discuss his problems. He didn't want to hear her feeble explanation, that we were so disturbed about his predicament that we were consoling each other. Shit! I didn't blame him for rejecting her excuse, "We got carried away, Honey."

Sheila didn't accept rejection well. I was in bed, trying to go back to sleep when she came into my room.

"He won't listen to me," she said. It was dark in the room, but I could tell she was near tears.

"Give him a day to calm down. I'll talk to him tomorrow," I said, sitting up in bed, trying to think what I could say that would comfort her.

"I should have gotten a room at the hotel. This wouldn't have happened," Sheila said.

"The hotel is usually full this time of year. A lot of parents bring their kids back to school."

"It shouldn't have happened. I never dreamed he would come in and find us."

I got out of bed to search for a pair of shorts and my running shoes, having no luck in the dark. "I'm glad he came in when he did," I quipped.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, ten minutes later and we might have been in the sack."

I knew I had made a mistake when the light flicked on. She was staring at me, aghast. "That's not what I had in mind to happen. You know that," she said, sounding hurt.

The light was a big help. I pulled up the shorts and sat down to put on my running shoes. "I know. I shouldn't have said that."

"Where are you going?"

I tied one of my shoes and looked up at her. "I may as will go out for a run. I can't sleep."

"None of this would have happened if I had gone to the hotel," she said.

"Stop beating your self up about it," I said, going to her, dragging one untied shoelace on the floor. She looked frightened when I approached, but let me put my arms around her. I felt her wilt in my arms. I turned the light out and held her while she cried.

Minutes passed before she spoke. "He doesn't love me."

I was pretty sure Charlie could hear us. He was probably straining his ears to make out what we were saying. I knew he wasn't asleep. How could he be?"

"Sure he does," I said, stroking her back, feeling her breasts press against my bare chest.

"He wanted a younger wife, someone he could show off at dinner parties. I could count the times we've had sex on one hand. Am I that bad in bed?"

She was talking about her new husband, not Charlie as I first thought. "You're not bad in bed at all. If fact, you're not bad in the kitchen either."

Why did I say that? I expected her to pull away, furious with me, but she didn't. I felt her shake in my arms. "You're disgraceful," she said, giggling.

Despite Loretta testing my endurance the night before, I was getting hard. I told myself to politely ease away from Sheila, make some excuse, go for a run, what was I doing with a married woman, the mother of my friend? "It is too bad that you didn't get a room at the hotel," I said, thinking how it would have simplified our lives.

"Yes, I could have indiscreetly given you my room number. No one would have been the wiser."

Shit! She misconstrues everything I say. "I'm going for a run. Are you going to be okay?"

"Do you think he can hear us?"

"Yes."

"Does this door lock?" she asked, reaching for the doorknob.

"No."

"Wait for me. I'm going with you," Sheila said, leaving me standing in my room with a hard-on and thinking, I didn't know she was a runner. As it turned out, she wasn't. That became evident when she didn't bother to wear shoes.

Sheila held my hand, walking gingerly across the asphalt toward the BMW. She used the key to unlock the driver's door and climbed into the back seat, looking back at me through the open door. The inside of the car was lit dimly, enough for me to see her expression, somber.

You learn on the football field that hasty decisions are nothing more than reactions. There's not time to think, should I rush the running back or should I wait and let him come to me? You react; using the instincts you've been taught. Sometimes you guess correctly; other times you get burned. My instinct told me this was wrong; she was married, my friend's mother. She was a package of trouble with a pretty bow. My libido told me to go for it. What tipped the scales was the sight of a police cruiser in the distance. I got into the back seat and closed the door, extinguishing the light.

She sat motionless, eyes glowing in the darkened car. What was she thinking? Was she weighing the possible consequences? I certainly was. What was I becoming? Only twenty-four hours ago I had crossed another self-imposed boundary by taking advantage of an underling. Had Loretta misconstrued my assurance that 'seeing me' was not a condition of her continued employment? If she didn't enjoy our time together she was the best actress I had ever known.

Long ago, I had set limits; to respect marriage, never to commit adultery. Now that I had burned that bridge by getting into the back seat with Sheila, who was going to make the first move?

"I often think of that time in my den," she began.

Good, she's going to talk. "Yes."

"I remember how frightened I was when you crawled toward me. I blamed myself for asking how my son lost his virginity. You said you would tell me and show me and I said telling me was enough, that showing me was unnecessary."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were frightened. I just thought you were excited."

"I was excited. I wanted you to show me. I guess it was hard for me to reconcile making love with my son's friend."

Where was she taking this? Was she changing her mind? Did I want her to back out? No, not really, but I felt obliged to give her the opportunity. "Sheila, that was over two years ago. Do you want to go back inside now?"

She sat silently gazing out the side window. I waited for her to say something. "Do you?"

I considered the consequences. If Charlie found out I had fucked his mother in the back seat of his new stepfather's BMW there would be hell to pay. No telling what he would do. Did I want to be responsible for him going off the deep end? No, but on the other hand he might not find out. "No, I don't want to go back inside unless you do," I said and got my answer when I felt her hand.

We held hands, letting the tension build. What if she had said she wanted to go inside? Would I have let her? The answer was no, not in my present state of mind. Would I have raped her? No, but I would have done my best to persuade her to reconsider.

I felt her hand shake and could tell her body was trembling. I put my arm around her. "I'm weak," she said, surrendering to my touch.

The police cruiser passed on the street, lights flashing. The thought of how dangerous it was to be in the back seat with a woman twice my age made my heart pound. Our lips collided as if we were of a single mind, grinding our bodies together, too impatient to take our time. I reached for the bottom of her T-shirt and she lifted her arms to accommodate me. Hurriedly, I sucked one nipple into my mouth and gave the other one the same treatment.

Getting my shoes off gave me some trouble. By the time I had my shorts and underwear pushed down to my ankles Sheila was on her back, naked and shaking with anticipation. I believe, from the way she cried out, that she climaxed before I was fully inserted and I know, because she told me, that she climaxed again a few seconds later. "I'm coming," she announced in a raspy voice. I paused to let her compose herself. She wiggled her ass and pushed up to indicate she was ready.

Any awareness that it was Charlie's mother I was fucking or that a police car was roaming the streets faded from my consciousness. I was totally consumed by the way Sheila reacted to variances in depth and speed. We made the best of the cramped space. In addition to being confining, there was a stench permeating the hot stuffy air. While she was not vocal, she kept me informed as to what pleased her by the way she whimpered contentedly or pounded her fists on my back to display her delight.

Because of my exhausting activity with Loretta the night before, my reservoir of semen was low and it took a long time for me to ejaculate. Finally, when it happened she cried out, breathlessly joyful. She kissed me, splashing my face with saliva. She seemed oblivious to the risk we had taken. I wondered if Charlie had gone back to sleep or if he had come out of his room, discovered we were missing and was in the bathroom looking down at the car at this very minute. I shifted my body, preparing to ease off her.

"Not yet, let me enjoy having you inside me," she pleaded.

I relaxed and felt her grip my cock in an attempt to retain possession. "It'll be light soon," I warned her.

"Not yet," she repeated.

My cock was becoming limp. "Find my panties, please."

I handed the panties to her and was pulling my shorts up when I felt her hand, stopping me. I leaned back in the seat, leaving my shorts dangling around my ankles. What now?

Knowing that she was using her panties to absorb the cum I had deposited in her pussy was awkward. I looked the other way, pretending not to notice what she was doing. I glanced her way when I heard her giggle. "What's so funny?" I asked.

She dropped her panties on the floor and moved across the seat, wanting to cuddle. We kissed and I felt her warm body next to mine. "I was trying to decide what I'll tell Cyril when he discovers the stain on the seat."

This wasn't funny. Why was she laughing about her husband finding the stain? Would she tell him the truth? What had I gotten myself into?

"We should go inside," I said.

Sheila stayed close, preventing me from pulling my shorts up. "I'll always remember that first time in my den. I've never been taken that way. How did you know I would be receptive to your advances?"

Should I remind her of the way she was dressed that day? No, it would make her sound like a slut. "I had admired you for three years from afar. I thought you might want to repay me for getting Charlie laid."

Her head jumped off my chest. "Didn't you see how I was dressed? We were alone in the house. When were we going to have a better opportunity? Didn't it occur to you that I wanted you to take me?"

"It occurred to me that I might be making a mistake. The man never knows if he should make a pass."

She kissed me. "Aren't you glad you followed your instincts?" she asked, reaching for her clothes.

"Yes, I'm glad."

"Did I make my desires obvious to you tonight?"

Thinking of the way she stripped, laid on her back and opened her legs was making me hard. I laughed and I pulled up my pants, putting aside the possibilities. She paused briefly before pulling the T-shirt over her head.

I opened the door and we got out of the car, leaving the soiled panties on the floor. The night air felt cool and refreshing after being in the stuffy car for so long. We were half way up the stairs when she stopped. "If I were to get a room at the hotel... ?"

"I don't think I could live with myself, Sheila."

She turned and ran up the remaining stairs, leaving me grateful that I didn't have to explain. Fucking my friend's mother was disturbing. Fucking a man's wife played tricks with my conscience, but not tonight. After getting by on short sleep the day before I was too tired to let adultery bother me.

The apartment was quiet. I went to my room and collapsed on the bed. The next thing I heard was Sheila's shrill voice. It was coming from the kitchen. Charlie was yelling at his mother, sounding just as agitated as her. Sun was streaming in the window and I was lying in a pool of sweat. I got up and headed to the kitchen.

"It was nothing, Honey," Sheila said in a pleading tone that sounded less than convincing.

"Don't tell me it was nothing. Wait until Cyril hears what you were doing," Charlie countered.

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked, holding my breath. Charlie turned toward me, surprised.

"Don't start with me. I'm not speaking to you," he said with fire in his eyes.

While I had no intentions of 'starting' with him, I wasn't inclined to let him bring his new stepfather into the argument. Didn't he know that his mother's marriage wasn't going as planned? I glanced at Sheila and saw her shake her head to indicate, I thought, that Charlie was berating her for kissing me, not for fucking me in the back seat of the BMW.