Jim and Petra
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2010 by Tedbiker

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 2 - This is the conclusion of the story of the relationship between Jim, the Son of Martha, and Petra, the young woman who loved him and drew him out of 'nerd-dom'

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   First   Slow  

While we hadn't exactly stopped being friends, I hadn't really related in human terms to Petra any more than anyone else. Her initiative at the weekend broke the ... log-jam? dam?obstruction? Whatever, I was now functioning emotionally again. Which meant I was normally sad rather than, well, hysterical I suppose.

Petra ... I wasn't sure about Petra. I'd thought — I was sure — I was in love with her, but then I fell in love with Su. The intensity of our mutual feelings eclipsed completely what I felt with Petra. She obviously still cared about me, or she wouldn't have gone to the trouble she had at the weekend ... but ... Remember, I'm a nerd. While I'd learned a lot, there was still much I didn't even know, let alone understand. I didn't know that love is not a finite commodity, and it doesn't only come in one flavour. So, I related to Petra as a friend; a close friend, maybe, but a friend, not a girlfriend.

The difference was apparent to others. Girls weren't perhaps as pushy as they had been, but I had no trouble getting dates. I avoided, very carefully, the girls who had pushed hardest in the past with the result I dated the ones who were lower in the 'pecking order'. That in turn meant their status was enhanced and they were truly grateful. It also meant I was less popular with some of the others ... Need I say that after months of more or less regular sex with Su, I was missing it? My libido was suppressed when I was in my funk after she died, but came back with a vengeance once I approached 'normality'. Then, of course, I was more approachable anyway and I started getting requests for my technological skills; sometimes that was actually what they wanted. I learned that there's an enormous difference between recreational sex and making love. Oh, the sex was good; sometimes it was even great, and I got no complaints, but I was always left feeling vaguely disappointed. What I was missing was the intimacy, the 'connection' — and I don't mean the physical one.


Interlude; Petra's voice.

I may be a psychologist, but that doesn't mean I always get things right, or foresee the consequences of my actions and decisions. I really wanted Jim to be sure I was 'the one'. I was sure that most of the girls that approached him would have little in common with him, and he'd realise it, get bored, and come back to me. I knew about Susheela's condition. She'd told me she wanted to make sure she could at least experience as much as possible in case it came back and she died 'without living'. She told me about her crush on Jim and... 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' — that Jim could date her, maybe even make love to her; that idea didn't really bother me. (Weird, or what?) What I didn't expect, and I should have at least considered the possibility, was that they fell in love; in a big way. I was happy for Susheela. I was even happy for Jim. I was not happy for myself. I put on a sort of 'happy indifference' — I even helped Jim plan his Christmas present outing for Su ... Oh, God...

I loved him.

But I loved him too much to have him just because ... I don't know, because he pitied me? Because he felt he owed me something? I wanted to be sure he loved me.

When Su died, I mourned my friend. But it was much worse watching Jim come apart. I watched him functioning like an automaton, going through the motions of living. I sat with him, walked with him and tried to talk to him, but I couldn't get through to him.

When Mrs. Price rang to say Jim was in a terrible state, I was there as quickly as I could possibly be. I was pretty sure what had precipitated his state, but that didn't really give me an answer. That came through an incidental comment by someone who'd rung about my entry for the next year's Renishaw classic car and bike show. I knew Charles Newton and Natalie from meeting them at several rallies. I wondered if (thinking of some off-hand comments I'd heard) either of them might have had some ideas about Jim. I had a long chat with Natalie and a rather shorter one with Charles. The result was a visit to the morning service at St Matthew's. I go to church from time to time; not usually to an Anglo-catholic one like St. Matthew's, though. Breakthrough! But not for me. It was, I suppose a step forward to have Jim functioning as a human again. I was happy about that. I was happy that I could have a conversation with him, but it was heart-breaking to be so near, yet so far from him.


Jim's voice.

I'm not a church-goer, as I said. As a rule, there are so many things I'd rather be doing on a Sunday morning. When Easter Sunday came round, though, I remembered the peace I'd experienced in the church with Petra, and the prayers of the priest and I decided to go. I still didn't really have much idea about what was going on. The vestments were beautiful — white and gold and heavy with embroidery. I quite liked the smell of the incense; I even recognised some of the hymns, but in a way the service itself was almost irrelevant. It was the sense of a presence that I couldn't ignore. I suppose it was God — that's as good a name as any — a feeling of being loved and accepted. The sights and sounds flowed over me without any great impact as I just sat and ... revelled ... in the way I was feeling.

Father Henry approached me after the service and asked how I was. He was amazingly easy to talk to and after a few minutes I agreed to have him pray for me again. I didn't hear his words. I didn't listen, because much the same thing happened as before. The feeling of being enfolded, protected, loved, accepted ... and forgiven? Did I need forgiveness? Then the bright place, and Susheela reaching out to me.

"Jim ... I must first warn you, that you must not seek to meet me. It is forbidden to you. I am speaking to you because we have called you here. Do you understand?"

"Not ... really, no. But I will not try to contact you."

"Jim, have you forgiven Petra? You won't allow yourself to resent me and the way I hid my condition from you, that I had to leave you. But you are bitter toward Petra because she pushed us together, and didn't tell you I could get ill. Jim ... would you rather not have had the time we did have? Would it have been better not to have loved, and be loved?"

Her expression somehow managed to be serene, and loving and warm, questioning and stern all at once. She didn't rush me, but let me contemplate on her questions.

"No, sweetheart. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. The pain was terrible, but the joy was worth every moment."

"Jim, had I lived, we wouldn't have kept that intensity. Love is not like that. It would not have been less real or less powerful, but like a fire as it burns, it settles gradually into a steadier, deeper solid strength. If, when, you love again it will not be the same. You have great love in you, Jim. You need to love. You need someone to love. You are not a complete person on your own. I can't ... I'm not allowed to say any more."

She stepped back ... and I was sitting in that incredibly uncomfortable pew. The priest had gone, and I was cushioned on the breast of Natalie Newton. Judging by the sense of heat in my face I must have blushed very red. Charles was on the other side. He rested a hand gently on my shoulder and smiled.

"Don't worry," he said.

"And don't be afraid to love, and be loved," added Natalie, quietly.


"Are you free on Saturday?" Petra asked with unconcealed excitement.

"Probably, why?"

"There's something I think will interest you, if you'll spend the morning with me."

On Saturday, she turned up with her beloved Morris Traveller.

"Would you like to drive?"

 
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