Prologue
Abby and I met under, well, let's say "odd" circumstances. You see, I was dating her daughter.
Mona needed to change for a school dance and did not have anything "nice" in her dorm room so we ran by her house so she could get ready, wearing something special for the spring dance. Personally, I was still surprised that I had let myself get talked into the stupid dance, but there it was. Since I had committed I would go through with it.
Mona introduced me to Abby and then went up to her room to change.
The attraction I felt toward Abby was strange on a couple of levels. Obviously, there was the age thing. I was 28 and a senior, getting ready to face a career as a history teacher. Abby was old enough to have a daughter that I considered "datable."
Then there was the body type thing.
Since that wonderful summer when my cousin's wife claimed my virginity I had believed that women are supposed to be soft and round. I wasn't what you would call a "Chubby Chaser," with the fetish that term implied. Nevertheless, I certainly found Reuben's paintings more beautiful than Playboy centerfolds.
Mona was definitely my "type." She had a beautiful face and a glorious mane of dark hair on a body that was easily a hundred pounds north of voluptuous. She was not morbidly obese, but she would need to watch her eating habits to avoid it.
Abby, on the other hand, was the picture of the skinny woman. Her face was long and narrow, her arms thin, her waist tiny. She had those beautiful eyes that she shared with her daughter. A dark brown with an insanely white sclera (a word meaning the whites of her eyes that I had just learned in my Human Anatomy and Physiology class) under heavy lids. When she smiled, which she did a lot, I could see that she hadn't fallen into the tooth whitening trap. Her ivory smile made you want to smile back, and slightly crooked teeth only added to the character of her face.
When Mona went upstairs I was dreading needing to make small talk with her mom. Instead, I was absolutely captivated. She was witty, knowledgeable, educated, interested, and engaged in the world. Her own work, selling real estate, left her time to do other things, and she did them in bunches. She was active in the local historical society, something dear to my heart as a history major. She was active in politics, volunteering for conservative campaigns, once again winning me over since, as a veteran and self-professed patriot, I tended to support the same people she did. She enjoyed the occasional night out and claimed to be an excellent dart shooter, a challenge I found interesting.
She asked if I would like something to drink, apologizing for only having beer if I wanted alcohol. As much as anything, that is what won my heart. I asked for water and when she left the room I slid my checkbook out of my pocket and behind the couch cushion.
We talked more until Mona was ready and I became more and more convinced that I wanted to see more of this woman.
It had never been "serious" with Mona, and I think we both understood. A mutual study pact with me helping her with the intricacies of American History and her helping me through required science classes had always been at the core of our relationship and the dance marked the end of the semester.
That night, when I took her home, our sex had the feeling of goodbye. She was passionate, as always, and responded to my fingers and my mouth and ultimately to my erection. But there was an undercurrent of sadness that we both recognized.
In the morning, as I was making her breakfast I made a big show of noticing that my checkbook was missing. I looked around the apartment and then asked if I could have Abby's phone number to see if I had dropped it there. Mona gave it to me without looking up from the pancakes I had made for her.
We made love one last time that morning after breakfast. She was big, beautiful, and passionate, as always. Spent, we shared a shower, washing each other's backs, and then I drove her to her dorm. I walked her to the door, as I always did, and kissed her goodbye.
Chapter One
I wasn't even to the corner before I was punching Abby's phone number into my cell phone.
"Hello," she said, with that lilting question in her voice that you have when you don't recognize the number on your caller ID.
"Hi," I said, "this is Dave. We met last night."
I liked the pleasure in her voice when she said "Oh, hi Dave, what's up?"
I explained that I had lost my checkbook and asked if she could check and see if I had lost it in her house.
"Just a second honey," she said, and something about that casual pet name caused a quick little rush deep in my belly.
Less than a minute passed and she was back on the line.
"I'm holding it in my hand," she said. Then, with an edge in her voice, she said "I wonder how it got behind my couch cushions."
I ignored that and said, "if you're home can I run by and pick it up?"
"I guess," she said, her voice very neutral. "Will Mona be with you?"
"Nope, just me," I said, hoping I sounded casual.
"Okay then, see you when?"
I chuckled. "About 10 minutes so get decent." And I hit the end button and started moving.
I felt like a kid on his first date as I drove. There were butterflies in my stomach and a little shake in my hands. As I engaged in a little self-analysis I realized that I could not remember any woman ever affecting me like this.
I didn't like the way my fingers trembled as I reached for the doorbell, but I did manage to push it.
She opened the door almost immediately, making me wonder if she had been waiting for me.
Once again I was struck with how unlike my "type" she was. Slender to the point of thin. Tall. The opposite of my normal attraction to short voluptuous women.
I noted with some satisfaction that she had makeup and lipstick on. I doubted that she normally did that on a Saturday morning and to think that she had wanted to look good for me was pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that I had to squirm a little to inconspicuously adjust the erection that was suddenly developing.
"The coffee is ready," she said, flashing that smile, "would you like a cup?"
I gave her my best boyish grin, well-practiced in the mirror.
"Madame," I said in my best Bogey imitation, "I will kill anyone you name for a cup."
She giggled at that and opened the door wide in invitation.
I noticed that she had Fox and Friends on the television and while we drank our coffee we kibitzed and discussed politics. For the first time lately, I found a true soulmate. As one of the few conservatives on campus, this was a special little treat.
Coffee done, she excused herself and returned in a few seconds, holding out my checkbook. As I took it she was holding my eyes with one eyebrow raised which I took as a question.
"Okay," I said, hoping my grin was winning, "busted."
She didn't say anything and that one eyebrow stayed up.
"Look," I said, starting to think I had lost, "I wanted to see you and this was the only thing I could come up with on the spur of the moment."
That eyebrow kept the question going as she said simply "mmhmmmmm."
"Abby," I said, "what I had," wondering if she would notice the past tense, "with Mona was fun but just friends. I like you and, well," and to my surprise I found myself running out of words.
"And well?" she said, the eyebrow finally relaxing.
"I wonder if you would consider having dinner with me or something." Once again I felt like I was 13, asking a girl to my first dance. I didn't understand why, but she had that effect on me.
"You're asking me out on a date?" she asked, looking genuinely surprised.
"Yes," I said, meeting her eyes again. "Abby, would you like to have dinner tonight?"
She smiled then, a genuine smile.
"You're serious?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, and repeated, "Abby, I would very much like to take you to dinner tonight."
She actually giggled a little.
"What is this?" she asked. "Are you some sort of granny chaser, cougar hunter, or whatever you call it?"
Then it was my turn to laugh.
"Abby," I said for the third time, "I would very much like to take you to dinner tonight. I like you. I think we are good together. And, to be honest, I like to be seen with the prettiest girl in the room."
"Oh god," she said, "you had me going up until that last part."
"What part?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"The 'prettiest girl?'" she said. "David, I have a mirror and eyes. I'm horse-faced, flat chested, big assed, big-footed, varicose veined and homely."
And I was laughing. A full-throated belly laugh at that.
And she was scowling.
It took several seconds to get myself under control.
"Abby," I finally managed, "you really see yourself like that?"
"How else?" she said, frowning.
I took a step forward and took her hands. In her bare feet, I was taller than she although barely, and so I looked down a little.
"Abby," I said, "I would be proud to be seen with you. Wanna have dinner?"
And finally, she smiled.
"ummmmm," she said, "how would Mona react?"
"I told you, it was always pretty casual with Mona. I know she loves you and I expect that if I make you happy that will make her happy," I said.
And there it was, that full-on smile that just lit up her face.
"Okay buster," she said, looking at me sideways, "I'll take a chance. Pick me up at seven. Now get out of here. It will take me until then to look presentable."
I laughed again, and left without saying anything else.
The rest of the day drug. Once again I had this eerie feeling of déjà vu. I was 12 again, getting ready to take my 6th-grade girlfriend roller skating. The clock drug. I would play some Call of Duty on my xBox and no time would pass. I showered about three in the afternoon and then realized that was stupid because I would have to shower again before I went to pick her up. I tried to nap. I played some more xBox. I watched some television. At some point, I threw a frozen pizza in the microwave and ate something.
Finally, it was 5:00 in the afternoon and I showered again. Then I shaved too, something I almost never do on weekends. I spent more time picking through my meager wardrobe than I could ever remember, but I thought that I had exactly one chance to make a good impression and I damn sure wasn't going to blow it.
By 6:00 I was ready. Hair carefully brushed in my very retro 1950's straight-back style. My blue pinstripe Oxford cloth button-down shirt had even been ironed once I found my iron and board. My dark slacks were ironed too. My argyle socks were bright red with silver patterns and my black penny loafers were shined.
And there I was, with about a half-hour to kill and absolutely nothing to interest me. I finally switched on Fox News and watched although I could not tell you anything that was said. I looked at my watch about every 30 seconds and finally at 6:30 gave up and headed over to her house.
That put me there about 15 minutes early and on a whim, I ran by a little stand I had seen in the parking lot of a convenience store and sprang eight dollars for a little bouquet of some bright flowers.
And then I was there, walking up to her door. More than butterflies, some larger birds, maybe crows, were flapping around in my belly as I pushed the doorbell.
Once again she opened the door right away and that made me think, or at least hope, that she was anxious too.
