Red Dress Club: Tonight?

Today I’m linking up with the Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood Prompt. Which was a bit of a challenge for this nice Catholic girl turned soccer mom: “Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex. But you know us. There's a twist. You can't write about the act. I don't want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me). There are so many other possibilities. And I hope you have fun finding them.” I’ve been using these prompts to create a back-story for my character Michaela. You can read previous stories by clicking the tab above marked The Story of Michaela. Concrit is always welcome!

Tonight?

            “Would you like to come in for coffee?” I asked him. The question sounded artificial. This was a new ritual for me. I hadn’t been on a date in a dozen years or so. “Or a drink?” I added as I fumbled with my key.

            “I’d love to come in,” he said. A slow smile spread over his face. This was the first time Adam and I had spent alone. Our first few dates included my kids. Tonight my friend Laverne had offered to have a slumber party for the kids at her place.

            The wine at dinner had taken the edge off my nerves. But it was also making me a little clumsy with the lock on the door.

            “Would you like a hand with that?” he asked.

            I shook off my embarrassment long enough to hand him the key. I’d rather not be standing on the doorstep all night. He opened the door and motioned for me to go ahead of him. I slipped off my high-heeled sandals and walked into the kitchen.

            “Wine or coffee?” I asked.

            “Michaela?”

            “Yes?”

            He pulled me to him gently and held my face in his hands for a moment. “You are so beautiful,” he said as he leaned in to kiss me. We had kissed before, but not like this. This was a kiss meant to lead somewhere—somewhere I really wanted to go. His hands moved down to caress my back. Memories of Peter whirled unexpectedly in my mind. I felt a tear stream down my face ruining the moment. I pulled away.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “Was I reading the signals wrong?”

            “No. No, you were reading them just right. Adam I’m so sorry. I wanted tonight to be special. When Laverne offered to take the kids I was so excited to be able to be alone with you. But when we kissed…”

“How long has it been?” He asked.

“Peter died almost two years ago.”

“Two years. And you haven’t…”

“There hasn’t been anyone else. It’s entirely possible I’ve turned back into virgin.”

He started to laugh and the tension eased up a little. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. We can still enjoy being alone without me tearing your clothes off.”

“So, you do want to tear my clothes off?”

He looked me straight in the eye, put his hands on my waist and said, “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. I’ve never lost someone like you have. You set the pace and I’ll stick with it. I’ve wanted to tear your clothes off since the first time I saw you out running in those little blue shorts of yours. But if you want to wait, I can wait.”

I reached up and kissed him, this time longer and slower. This time I didn’t remember Peter. This time I just thought about Adam—his hands on my body, his lips on mine. He said it didn’t have to be tonight, but as we kissed, I knew it would be.