Old Acquaintances

I looked at myself in the mirror.  My long brown hair looked a bit better since I’d had it permed, but there was no hiding the streaks of gray scattered in there.  Too late to decide to go for color instead of curl.  I glanced down at the basket full of make-up by the bathroom sink.  What was the point?  Was anyone really going to believe there were no laugh lines or crow’s feet under there?  How many layers would I have to put on to convince them, and how long before it all started melting anyway?  I shrugged and walked into my bedroom to start shuffling through the closet.  As I came to several dresses, I found myself chuckling.  Why did I keep these things?  Did I really think one day I would just wake up, be 21 again, and fit into them?  Maybe it was some deep-seated belief in Fairy Godmothers from watching all those Disney movies as a child.

I finally pulled out a pair of black jeans and a matching tank top.  I could cover this with a nice satin blouse, leave the buttons undone, and tuck it all in to give the illusion of more up top than down bottom.  All women are magicians at heart.  I found a nice necklace to put on, and some little earrings that sort of matched, grabbed my black leather jacket, and headed out the door. 

I scanned through the radio stations in my car as I meandered through the city, already gleaming with lights.  Nothing but warnings about all the drunk drivers that would be out tonight or stupid music by kids who probably had parents my age.  I dug around for a CD and found some KISS to put in.  Much better.  That is rock and roll.

My cell phone rang so I fished it from my purse as I drove.  “Hello?”

“Deena?”  I cringed when I heard Greta’s voice.  “You’re gonna kill me, so just tell me what day you want to schedule my execution, and I’ll be there.  However, tonight can’t be it.”

“You’re not coming?”  I moaned, “You gave me the sales pitch from hell on this, and now you’re not coming?”

“Teddy is sick,” she reported about her little boy.  “I can’t leave him like this.  I’m sorry.  Please, please, please, please, just go and have a good time and tell me all about it later.”

“Oh, yeah!”  I complained, “New Year’s Eve party all by myself with a bunch of drunks!  That sounds like a good time all right!  No thanks, I’m going back home now while I still can.”

“No!”  She almost screamed at me, “You can’t!  Promise me you’ll go!  You have to go, Deena!”

“What aren’t you telling me, Greta?”  I immediately grew suspicious.

“Please, promise me, Deen!” she implored. 

I rolled my eyes and gave in.  “OK.  I’ll go.  I’ll put my foot in the door.  I’ll pay my cover charge, and after a drink or two, I’m out of there.  How’s that?”

“Thanks.”  I could almost hear her smiling.  “You’ll thank me later.”

I hung up and stared at my phone.  What did she mean by that?  Little twerp!  She was up to something; I knew it.  Oh well.  I was there now.  I might as well go in.

I paid my cover charge and found my way through the early crowd to the bar.  If I was going to be alone, I might as well just stake out a claim on a barstool.  After a couple of margaritas, life was looking a little better, and I’d struck up a friendship with the gal tending bar.  She was a big Amazonian type, so I liked the idea of calling her a friend.  She told me the band that would be playing later was a good one, played lots of old ‘vintage’ rock, and judging from her face, she probably knew the true meaning of that word.  I had managed to rebuff a couple of lounge lizards on the prowl for a nightly victim and was thinking that maybe I might stick around to hear this band and see if they really were any good.

That’s when I heard her say under her breath, in a cross between a curse and a compliment, “Well, stick a cock in me, and I’m done, Honey!” 

I followed her gaze to the front entrance and nearly spewed my drink across the floor.  He was talking to the bouncer like they were old friends, and I let my eyes fall down him.  I couldn’t resist.  His chestnut hair was cropped fairly close, but locks of curls fell down onto his forehead and bounced as he laughed.  His broad, smiling face had a closely trimmed beard, or was it just the beginnings of one?  Maybe only a few days growth.  There were already traces of a shadow developing on his neck where he had obviously shaved this morning.  His blue cotton shirt gaped open enough to show a cross hanging about his strong neck.  The sleeves were cuffed up a couple of times, and he had one thumb tucked into the pocket of his tightly fitting jeans.  In the other was a cigarette that he waved about as he talked. 

I swallowed hard and put my drink down.  I wondered how long it would be before he saw me.  I didn’t have to wonder long.  He was too far away for me actually to see his eyes, but I knew that beautiful shade of sea green with just the hint of blue.  I knew that tonight the blue would seem deeper, richer, because of what he wore.  When those eyes locked onto me, I also knew that I was not going home early tonight.

There were several people who spoke to him as he walked by, but it was as if he didn’t notice them.  He was on a mission now and this was not a man easily deterred from a mission.  I heard my bartender friend gasp, as she realized he was coming straight toward me, with a big warm smile on his face and his arms stretched out.  I was almost expecting to hear a thump from behind me when she hit the floor.

“Deena!”  His voice had deepened, gotten stronger, more masculine, but it was the same beautiful rich baritone.  “Is that really you?  Hot damn!  Look at you, Baby!” 

I barely had time to hop off the stool before those big strong arms engulfed me, and I felt my feet leave the floor.  Twenty years and I swear they felt just the same.  I inhaled.  Damn!  Smelled just the way I remembered him, too.  It was one of those moments that you want to suspend in time and hold onto forever.  It ended though, and he sat me back on my feet.

“It’s me, Mick,” I giggled.  “What on earth are you doing here?”

He grabbed the barstool next to me and sat down, so I climbed back onto mine.  He nodded at the bartender.  “How ‘bout a Busch, Darlin’?  I’m back in town for a bit.  My brother, you remember Richard?  He had a run of bad luck and needed some help out with his business so I came back to help him get things squared away.”

“And of all places, you came here tonight?”  I was amazed.  “What are the chances …?”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I was supposed to be meeting someone here, but she cancelled on me at the last minute.  Her son’s sick.  I couldn’t argue with that, could I?”

“That little bitch!”  I exclaimed.

“Huh?”

“Greta,” I supplied.  “I was supposed to meet her here tonight, too.”

He shook his head as the truth dawned on him.  “She never intended to come.  She knew all along what she was doing.  What?  She thought I wouldn’t show up if I knew you’d be here?”

I blushed.  “I think perhaps it was the other way around.”

His smile faded a bit.  “Why?  Why wouldn’t you want to see me, Deena?”

“Forget it.”  I reached over and put my hand on his knee.  “I do want to see you, Mickey.  I’m thrilled that you’re here.  After I give her a piece of my mind for doing this, I’ll give her a big hug, too.”

His smile broadened again.  “Let’s grab a table while we still can.  Up by the floor.  C’mon.”

I followed him to a little table for two, not far from the dance floor, and sat in the chair he pulled out for me.  Then he pulled his own chair around to be right next to mine.  This was either going to be the best night of my life or the worst.  The jury was still out on that one.

“So,” I started the small talk, “last I heard you were in Florida.”

He laughed, “You haven’t heard for a while then.  Been in Tucson, Denver, Philadelphia, and Chicago since then.”

“Good Lord.”  I mused, “Didn’t know you signed on to be a gypsy.”

“Part of the territory.”  He shrugged, referring to his career in broadcast news.  “Not sure where I’ll go from here.”

“So you just left your job in Chicago to come help Richard?”  I wondered.

“The timing was kind of good,” he admitted.  “I needed to leave anyway.”

“Now that sounds like something with a story behind it,” I teased him.  “So?  Fess up.  What happened?”

His face clouded, and I realized that it wasn’t a joking matter.  “I knocked the shit out of my producer.”

“Gads!”  I winced.  “Did he deserve it?”

He sighed, turning his bottle of beer on the table and looking at it instead of me.  “I thought so at the time ….  I had just found out he was fucking my wife.”

“Holy shit!”  My mouth dropped open.  “I thought you were doing the news not a soap opera, Mick!”

He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I wanted to crawl into a hole.  I shouldn’t have said that, but I’ve always been the type to say what came to mind before I really thought about it.  Probably why I’m divorced now.

“And I thought you married Johnny.”  He turned the tables, “But you’re not wearing a ring.”

“OK,” I sighed.  “So we both messed up.  Now we’re moving on, right?”

His mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.  “No, now we’re having a drink together in a bar, wondering how in the hell we got here.”

Damn.  Twenty years and he can still do that to me.  Cuts right through all the bullshit, just states the fact so clearly that it makes my head spin, and makes me feel like an idiot.  That’s why I didn’t marry him.  Because I couldn’t fool him.  Not ever.  What was Greta thinking?  Why did she think it was a good idea to play matchmaker with us after all this time?

“Because she’s our friend.”  He was reading my thoughts now.

“It was a long time ago, Mickey,” I reminded him.  “We’re not the same people anymore.”

“Aren’t we?” he posed.  “I’m still reading your mind.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”  I rolled my eyes.

“Well,” he shrugged, “at least I would have known if you were doing something behind my back.  You couldn’t have hidden it from me.”

“I wouldn’t have tried,” my voice softened.  “And I wouldn’t have done it, either.”

“I know,” he let out a long breath.  “I know that, Deen.  I fucked up.” 

So much for a lighthearted fun night out at the bar.

I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder.  “We both did.  It wasn’t just you.”

“OK.”  He tilted his head, “So you know what happened between me and Teresa now.  What happened to you and Johnny?”

“Readers’ Digest version?”

He nodded.

“He said I was a bitch and to prove it he got a girl half his age knocked up,” I revealed.  “Seems we both ended up in a soap opera.”

“Only if we let that be the end,” he pointed out, “and I, for one, plan on sticking around for a few more years.  So,” he raised his bottle to me in a toast, “here’s to better casting in our next performance.”

The crowd started getting louder as the band took the stage so we stopped trying to talk and just kicked back to enjoy the music.  I was impressed with their style, and it wasn’t long before Mickey was leading me out to the floor to dance.  It had been years since I’d danced, and I’d almost forgotten how much I loved it.  Johnny hated dancing.  Refused to do it or to go anywhere with live music.  Mickey, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. 

We had just sat back down when the band launched into a slow song, and I felt my heart skip a beat.  I didn’t have to wonder; he was reaching for my hand and pulling me to the dance floor.  His arms went around my waist in familiarity, and I rested my head on his shoulder, my arms around his neck.  I closed my eyes and let him lead me, confident in his strength.

“You feel good in my arms, Deen.”  He put his lips next to my ear, and it sent a shiver down my spine.  “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.  “Don’t let go of me this time, Mickey.”

I felt his arms tighten around me, and he gently kissed my cheek.  The song came to a close, and I started to feel panic rise in me as we went back to our table.  I grabbed my purse and pointed toward the ladies’ room, and he nodded.  Once there, I leaned against the wall and tried desperately to talk some sense into myself.  I had made the cardinal mistake already, letting him know I still cared about him. 

Following a thorough pep talk with myself, I came back out and saw a woman at our table.  She was leaning over talking to Mickey, practically pushing her tits in his face.  I felt my hackles rise.  Why?  It’s not like he belongs to you, Deena!  He was yours in high school; that was only briefly, and you fucked that up!  I continued my approach, and as I got closer, I could begin to make out bits of the conversation.

“Thank you, just the same, Hon,” he was saying, “but I’m with someone tonight ….  Yes, she’ll be back, I’m certain of it ….”

“She is back,” I stated, taking my seat and glaring at the blond bimbo. 

“And not a moment too soon.”  He slid his arm around me and dismissed her, turning to look at me with laughter in his eyes.  That look.  How could any woman cheat on this man? 

“Missed me, did you?”  I giggled and leaned in close, as the bimbo gave up and walked away.

“You have no idea,” he chuckled.

“Not your type, huh?”  I teased.  “Thought all men liked that type.”

He raised a brow at me.  “What?  When I can be with you?  Why would I want to play Russian roulette with a one-night stand when I can have a beautiful, intelligent, sarcastic woman at my side instead?”

I winced.  “You could have left that last part out.”

“Wouldn’t have been talking about you then.”  He winked.

I shook my head at him, and he pulled me a little closer, kissing my cheek.  “Some things never change, Deen.  I hope you’re one of them.”

I put my hand on his leg.  His jeans were tight around his muscular thighs, and when I touched him, I could feel him react.  I let my hand gently slide up and down his thigh, and he put his lips next to my ear.  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”

I giggled, “Some things never change.”

“Let’s leave,” he suggested.  “Go somewhere …anywhere.”

“What?”  I played innocent.  “And miss out on the champagne and kiss at midnight?”

“We’ll stop and buy some champagne.”  He nibbled at my earlobe.  “And you won’t miss the kiss at midnight ….  I promise.”

I glanced at my watch.  It was only 10:30.  I did a quick mental inventory to convince myself I was not drunk.  He was watching me, waiting for my response. 

“I hate champagne.”  I stood up.  “Follow me to my place?”

*

I spent the entire drive home talking to myself, rather loudly, I might add.  I went through the entire speech about being careful and not acting in haste.  I reminded myself that this man had broken my heart when he left for college, and that he then stomped on it again when he sent me an invitation to his wedding two years later.  After going down an exhaustive list of possible scenarios of where this might lead, none of them good, I pulled into my garage and closed the door.  His headlights disappeared as it went down. 

I got out, went through the door that opened into my kitchen, and headed for the living room.  I took a deep breath and opened the door.  He was leaning in the doorway, that grin on his face that makes me forget my name and the twinkle in his eyes to go with it.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”  I stepped back as he walked in.  I almost stumbled as I moved, and he reached out to catch me.

“You all right, Deen?”

I nodded.  “Just a klutz.  Something else that hasn’t changed about me.”

He smiled and took hold of my leather jacket, slipping it off my shoulders.  I caught my breath.  My heart was pounding in my throat.  It suddenly dawned on me that I had never actually ‘done it’ with Mickey anywhere but the backseat of his old car.  The thought made me blush.

He chuckled, “What are you blushing at?”

“Nothing.”  I looked away, and he tossed my coat across a chair.

“Tell me,” he spoke softly, tipping my chin up so he could look into my eyes.  I could drown in those eyes, if I wasn’t careful.

“Just remembering.”  I swallowed hard, “your old Ford Galaxy.  Remember it?”

“Very well.”  He stepped closer and let his hands glide down to my waist.  I could feel his fingers gradually working my blouse up from where it was tucked into my jeans.  I rested my hands on his chest, and I could feel his heart beating. 

When his mouth came down to envelope mine, I lost all track of coherent thought.  He had a reputation back in high school for being the ‘best kisser’.  He had only improved with age.  I was left gasping for air when he pulled away from me and looked down into my eyes. 

“You gonna offer me a seat?” he asked, his eyes dancing.

“No …I mean, yeah.”  I tried to restore my thought processes.  “I mean, please, sit down … make yourself ….”

“At home,” he finished for me and took my hand, pulling me over to the big, comfy sofa.  He sat down and brought me with him, onto his lap.  “There.  That’s better.  Don’t have to hold you up when your knees go weak.”

“You!”  I shoved playfully at his shoulder, and he laughed.  I narrowed my eyes at him.  “Don’t play mean with me.” 

He slid his hands beneath my blouse, and I suddenly realized he’d gotten them both untucked.  His fingers burned hot against my back, and I felt a chill run all through me.  “You like it and you know it.  You always did.”

I arched my back against his touch, and I heard a little whimper escape my throat, “Damn, Mickey ….”

His hands slid around to my abdomen and up to cup my breasts.  “Wrong expletive, Deena.”

As his thumbs circled my nipples, I moaned, “Fuck, Mickey ….” 

“If you insist.”  He stood up, lifting me with him and glanced down the hallway with a raised brow.

“End room,” I offered, and he obliged by taking me into my bedroom.  There was already a soft light on, and he laid me gently on the bed.  I could hear myself making little cooing noises as he removed my shoes, then my socks, then moved up to unzip my jeans and work them down my legs.  I had for some reason splurged and put on sexy black lace panties, and I was very glad.  I felt his teeth tugging at them and his beard tickling at my skin as he eased them down my body.

I opened my eyes at the absence of his touch and saw him standing next to the bed, just looking at me.  I felt myself blush all the way to my toes.  He smiled and began removing his own clothes.  Part of me wanted to sit up, to help him, but the other part of me was already too much a puddle of jelly to do that.  His jeans hit the floor with a thump, and he tossed his shirt over a chair.  My breathing increased, expecting him to crawl onto the bed next to me, or over me or …but he didn’t.  He dropped to his knees and took hold of my calves, easing me toward the edge of the bed.  He began kissing my legs, his beard raising goose bumps all over me.  His hands led the way, stroking my inner thighs before his lips followed them.  As soon as he was close enough, my hands went into his hair, and I arched into him. 

He looked up at me and smiled.  One of the sweetest, softest smiles I’ve ever seen on him.  It almost brought tears to my eyes.  He slipped his hands beneath my ass and lifted me to his mouth.  I whimpered as his tongue danced through my folds, then expertly teased my nub.

“Please, Mickey,” I could barely speak, “I want you …need you in me …please ….”

He slowly kissed his way up my belly, slipping my blouse off gently before lifting the tank I wore easily over my head.  He paused above me, gazing down into my eyes and I tried to pull him into me.  He chuckled and dipped his head back down to take first one, then the other breast into his mouth.  I could feel his hard shaft pressed against my thigh, but it was just out of my reach.  I gripped his shoulders and moaned, begging him to enter me. 

When finally his tip teased my opening, there were tears running down my cheeks.  He lingered above me again, speaking in a deep husky tone, “Deena …dear sweet Deena …know what time it is, Baby?”

I shook my head, whimpering.

“Midnight,” he smiled.  “Here’s that kiss you wanted.”  His tongue came into my mouth, and he pushed his cock into me as deep as he could.  My legs went around him, and I felt my walls already beginning to contract.  He kept kissing me, all the while slowly moving in and out of me until I thought I would pass out.  Finally, he began to increase his pace, driving into me harder and deeper with each stroke, and he broke the kiss to growl into my ear as he shot his seed straight into my womb.  I cried out and dug my nails into his back as my orgasm took over.  He let his weight rest on me briefly, then started to move away. 

“No,” I whispered, “Mickey …don’t let go of me.”

He raised up on his elbows and looked down into my eyes.  I could still feel tears on my cheeks.  He gently kissed them away and rolled to one side, being sure to take me with him.  I snuggled into his arms, draping an arm over his chest and a leg across his.

“It’s OK, Deen,” he reassured me, “I won’t let go of you.  Not this time.  Gonna hold on tight this time.  I promise.”

“You’ll stay here tonight?”  I asked.

“I’ll stay here as long as you let me, Baby.”  He brushed my cheek with his hand.  “I should’ve never left the first time.”

His words were starting to sink in.  Did he really mean what he was saying?  I raised up and looked at him.  No joking, no laughter in his eyes now.  Just honesty.

“But what about …?” I started.

“Doesn’t matter.”  He stopped me, putting his fingers on my lips.  “It’s not worth it.  Not any of it.  Look what I gave up for all that.  And look where it got me.  No, Deena.  I’ll find something else to do with my life.  Something here, where you are.  Where my family is and yours.”

“I can’t ask you to give up everything,” I protested.

“You’re not asking me,” he pointed out.  “I’m offering.  I’ve been thinking about it ever since I came home to help Richard.  I look at what he’s got with Susie, and I know I could have had that with you.  Maybe it’s not too late.  At least not for some of it.”

I felt tears running down my cheeks again.  He pulled me down against him and cradled me close.  “I’m sorry I hurt you, Deen.  Will you give me another chance?”

I giggled through my tears, “I think I just did.”

He chuckled, “Well, did I pass or fail then?”

I sniffed, wiped my tears away, and put on my serious face.  “I’m having a hard time making up my mind.  Perhaps you need to convince me a little more.”

He laughed and growled playfully, then rolled me over and began convincing me all over again.

THE END

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