Leah and I walked out of the pub toward the lot where our vehicles were parked. Open poetry night was over. Leah is an amazing poet, at least I think so. I’m not into the typical angry/hurt emo style, nor the Olde English wanna-be with its flowery prose and words with pronunciations altered so they rhyme. Leah’s poetry is plain talk with cadence and some rhyming when it works into what she’s saying. It’s almost exclusively about her family life; prior problems with hubby, reconciliation, and kids. With each one her heart comes out through her words and is laid on the tables for the crowd to pick apart. That takes guts and every reading leaves her shaking and breathless, so much so that I’ve sometimes worried she’d pass out. We usually share a table, and I often have held her hands for several minutes to ground her until she calms down. I had never considered taking it any further.
We would walk to our cars with Teddy, the originator of the monthly event, and chat for an hour or more after the shows. Teddy passed away a few months ago, so now it was just us. Tonight, we chatted while standing next to my Plymouth Voyager van. I brought up her second poem which was about her current relationship with her hubby, how nice it was compared to the “days of hell” several years ago when they almost split up. She got very quiet with a far-away look. Uh, oh. After waiting several seconds, I asked, “What?”
Looking down she took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s a lie.” I waited again. She finally continued, “Things aren’t that great. Actually, things are pretty sucky. Not as bad as they used to be, but now he’s so wrapped up in the kids and his business he never has time, or is too tired, for me.” She looked into my eyes and asked, “Am I attractive?”
Oh, shit, one of the loaded questions. To me, she was, sort of. I took inventory. Her teeth were somewhat crooked, and her eyes didn’t seem to point in exactly the same direction (that may have been her glasses). A little overweight, but not fat. She still had a waist and nice-sized breasts. One evening she’d been braless, and I saw the goosebumps on the areola through the silky blouse material. Pendulous breasts, but nipples still pointed forward. All that plus her intelligence and gutsiness blended with gentleness added up. “I think so, Leah. Very attractive.” Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes watered up.
“I haven’t felt attractive for I don’t know how long.” Her voice was unsteady. I stepped forward and took her into my arms for a friendly, supportive hug. She hugged back with desperation as she sobbed softly into my shoulder. Those breasts felt so good against my chest. Something somewhere shifted. Her sobs stopped and after a few seconds, she pulled her head back and looked into my eyes, keeping her arms tight around me. “Attractive enough to make love to?” Holy shit!
“Attractive enough to make love to,” I confirmed. She lifted her head and we kissed. A few light lip pecks, then increasing in pressure until our mouths were open and tongues intertwined. Her breasts began heaving against my chest as my dick began to rise toward her nether regions. Shit, I needed to fuck her.
Breaking the kiss, I said, “Let’s get in my van. I’m going camping this weekend and the bed is in it.” She smiled and her eyes lit up. Luckily, the weather was still a bit cool, so the inside of the van was comfortable. After closing the sliding door, we lay there looking at each other as the interior lights faded out, then we literally had at each other.
Or rather, we tried to. She wears many layers of clothing, a style intended to hide her size. Honestly, she isn’t that overweight. “Wait,” she said. She sat up and began removing layers. Sweater, scarf, and a blouse with a huge bow at the neck all peeled off. Then she stopped. I had the feeling she was hesitant to go further.
“Come here,” I said. She laid down facing me and I took her into my arms again. As our tongues reignited their dance, my hand pulled the zipper of her skirt down and released the hook. Sitting up, I grabbed the waist. She rolled to her back and lifted her hips. I changed my finger placement and brought her skirt and panties down together. She gasped. As I pulled her clothing from her feet, I also removed her shoes, then surveyed the woman lying in the back of my van. I was thankful for the glow from the streetlight. Full bush, full thighs, broad hips, definite waist, wrinkled belly with a deep navel, and those wonderful breasts still hiding in her bra. That had to change.