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Days Forgotten but Not Lost Ch. 03

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Again, thank you to GaiusPetronius for editing this series. The improvements are his, the remaining mistakes are mine

*****

Late March, 2001

Counselor: I don’t want to always sound like a downer, but just because things have started off well doesn’t mean it’s going to stay on that trajectory.

Patient: You think I don’t know that? I didn’t plan this!

Counselor: You didn’t plan for her to talk to you, but you had a choice at every step.

Patient: (sighs) But it… it’s more than I had hoped for, you know? And I saw things that weekend that just gave me a real hope for the future.

Counselor: Well, I’m happy for that… but I’m concerned about how this plays out. The chances of a really positive outcome…

Patient: … are worth the risk.

Counselor: For you, perhaps. But do you have the right to decide that for her? Would she think it’s worth it?

*******

How Vicky ate such huge amounts of food and stayed looking the way she did was beyond my understanding. We had just sat down to brunch and given our orders to the waiter. While I was content with coffee and toast, I listened as Vicky ordered an omelet, English muffins, yogurt, and a bowl of fruit. She giggled when she caught me staring at her.

“I’ve been running since six this morning,” she said. “I’m famished!” Then leaning back in her chair, she added, “Sooo… how are things?”

I, too, leaned back and looked around. It was a sunny morning and warm enough that we didn’t need jackets as we sat at the outdoor tables. “Things are OK,” I said. “Work is dull, but I’m getting used to my life. What about you? How’s the elusive mystery man?”

Vicky pouted and stirred her ice water. “As distant as ever,” she sighed. Then her eyes sparkled and she perked up. “But he’ll come around, I’m sure of it. We’re destined to be together.” Vicky had a minor obsession with a man she had once been in a relationship with. He had broken it off, but she was determined to win him back. She never spilled many details (other than “tall, dark, and handsome”), saying she didn’t want to make me feel bad. As usual, she changed the topic, telling me about the race she was training for and about the cheerleading team she was coaching at the school. I shared a few anecdotes from work, but otherwise didn’t have much to say.

“Amelia, honey, what do you do all day? Are you still reading those books? You need another hobby, something to get you out there,” she said, sweeping her hands towards the city streets.

I sighed. “I know. But I like the books; they speak to me. Maybe what I really like is that all the women in those books have a story. Even sex for them is a part of a bigger narrative. I don’t have that. I don’t have a story or drama, and I guess I live vicariously through theirs.”

Vicky gave me a look of friendly pity as she finished off her omelet. Washing it down with water, she gestured at me with her fork and said, “That’s why you need to go out and make a new story for yourself. Amelia, I know I’ve said this before, but I really mean it. Maybe what you need is a change of scenery. I would hate to see you go, but you should move somewhere else – find a new life, a new world. Find a guy.” She said that last part with a teasing smile and raised eyebrows. Vicky didn’t know about my monthly habit.

“Well, speaking of that… ” I said with an embarrassed grin.

“What?!” Vicky cried, leaning in. “Why did you wait the whole meal to tell me this?”

“It’s nothing, maybe, but… there’s this guy I met, and… we really hit it off. We had a good weekend and I’m thinking I might want to see him again.”

“Oh, my God, Amelia, that’s great! Give me details!”

I told her about Scott and the big picture of our time together the previous weekend – meeting in the bar, going out to a movie. I didn’t mention the sex, feeling suddenly self-conscious about what she might think of me sleeping with him as soon as I had met him. We giggled like teenagers as she pressed me for more. When it was time for her to leave, we stood up together and Vicky said, “See, Amelia, this is what you need. Forget the past and start a new life.”

“Forgetting the past isn’t my problem,” I joked.

“Maybe not, but being tied to it might be.” It was a rare moment of genuine insight from someone I otherwise saw as shallow and flighty. Vicky had always been pressing me to move on, to build a new life. Maybe that would be easier for someone like her, but I just felt stuck. I wondered if meeting Scott was just the jump-start I needed.

*******

When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine. There was almost never a message; it was like I didn’t exist except to telemarketers. My heart skipped a little when I heard a familiar voice: Hey Amelia, it’s Scott. I had an idea of something you might like. I’m off work today, so if you’d be up for it, I’d innovia escort love to take you somewhere. It’ll only take an hour. Call me if you’re interested. Bye!

I played the message back three or four times, savoring the sound of his voice. To think that I was on his mind… I liked that feeling. The time stamp was from an hour earlier, so I picked up the phone and dialed his number. He answered after the first ring and was evidently pleased to hear from me. I tried to find out what he was planning, but he just said it was a surprise.

“Does it matter how I dress?” I asked, looking for hints.

“Nope. Just something comfortable. We won’t be gone long.” I could hear his smile.

*******

About thirty minutes later, I saw his car pull up in front of my place. I breezed out the door and down the steps. Scott was in jeans and a t-shirt, and I couldn’t help but wonder if our plans for the day would see me pulling that shirt off him. But for once, I felt like I had other ways I could spend time with a man – doing things that didn’t necessarily involve sex.

Noticing my silence, Scott said, “You aren’t going to ask where we’re going?”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m not going to waste my breath,” I said with a contented smile, sliding down in the seat and closing my eyes. It was the perfect day for driving with the windows down.

We didn’t drive long, but I kept my eyes closed for most of it. Scott didn’t seem to mind the silence, which made me like him even more. I heard us turn onto a gravel road, at which point I sat up and looked around. Blinking in the light, I saw trees and an old wooden fence. “Kendall’s Nursery” read the old painted sign at the entrance. I gave Scott a questioning look as he parked the car.

“Come on,” he said, sounding excited. We walked over a grassy parking lot and into a greenhouse. Two steps in and a wave of emotion crashed over me. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. I felt like my heart was being wrapped in a warm blanket. I let go of Scott’s hand, which I must have grabbed at some point on the way in, and hurried down the aisles. I lingered among shelves of herbs, smelling them one by one. I paused by the packaged soil and inhaled the earthy scent. I found the flowers and started saying their names as I took in their scents.

I spun around to face Scott, who had been following me with a big smile. Putting his hands in his pocket, he looked around and said, “You have a book on gardening and a big fenced-off patch of weeds in your backyard that looks like it once had life. I wondered if maybe you’d want to do something about that.”

Stepping up to him, I put my hands on his chest and pressed my crotch against his thighs. “You… are… perfect,” I said, holding back tears. I wasn’t sure what made me want to cry. It was probably the thoughtfulness and kindness of his act, plus the unique experience of getting to know someone outside the bedroom, and the understanding that this could be just the hobby I’d been looking for. Added to all that were the overwhelming sensations – bordering on memories – that the greenhouse evoked.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” I said.

“Let’s get some help, then,” Scott replied, hailing the nearest worker.

An half-hour later, we left the nursery with several large bags of potting soil, some gardening tools, at least a dozen packets of seeds and a few trays of seedlings. I had decided to split my garden, making half of it herbs and half of it flowers. Since I already had a book on flowers, I also picked up a book on growing herbs. During the drive home, I felt as happy as I had in a while, probably the happiest I could ever remember feeling.

As we neared my place, Scott broke the silence and said, “I hope you don’t mind that I looked around your place last weekend. You fell asleep so quickly, and I wanted to hit the kitchen anyway. I saw your books… ”

“Oh God, the books,” I groaned.

“What?” he asked.

“You don’t think it’s embarrassing that I have all those trashy novels? You, the English teacher?” I asked.

“Not at all. Good literature comes in many different styles. Besides, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Have you read them all?”

“Not all, but a lot of them,” I said, feeling strangely uncomfortable talking about them with Scott. “But as for your first question, no, I don’t mind too much that you looked around, so long as you weren’t opening up closets and drawers. That might be over the line.”

He smiled and said, “Don’t worry, your secrets are safe.”

Before I could reply, we were pulling up to my place. Together we unloaded the car, taking everything through the house and to the backyard. When we had finished, Scott stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dirt off his hands, and I poured us each a glass of water. Looking out the kitchen window, I could see the bags istanbul escort of dirt and mulch piled up outside. I knew if I opened the window I could probably catch the scent of fresh herbs and flowers wafting in. I started to feel giddy, excited about the project ahead of me. My mind’s eye was constructing designs and lay-outs for the whole yard.

Putting my glass on the counter, I moved close to Scott, slipped my arms around him and said, “Thank you. Thank you for such a perfect gift.” Then I stretched my neck out to bring his lips within reach of mine. We kissed slowly, tenderly, as old lovers would. Scott stretched out his arm and set his glass in the sink. As our kiss went on, I slid my hands down his sides, curling my fingers under his shirt. Slowly, I pulled it up, exposing his smooth abdomen and running my fingertips through the light trail of dark hair that went up the middle of his torso. I pushed the shirt up more, and Scott raised his arms, letting me take it off him.

Once his full chest was exposed, I kissed along his collar bone and neck. He was slightly damp from carrying the heavy bags out to the yard. That plus the lingering smell of the soil gave him that same earthy scent I had breathed in at the nursery. I could also detect hints of the herbs and flowers we had carried. I wanted to keep my face on his skin, breathing in and kissing, running my lips all around him. He smelled so right.

Scott interrupted me long enough to pull my shirt off. He pulled my bra away as I shrugged it off my shoulders. Then he gripped me under my arms, lifted me up and set me on top of my kitchen table. Sitting there put me at eye level with him, but I hesitantly put my hand on the table and pushed down, concerned for my safety.

Scott turned my face back to meet his and said, “Trust me, it’ll hold. It’s solid wood.”

Content to take his word for it, I wrapped my arms around his neck and began exploring his mouth with my tongue. I pulled back and said, “I bet it’s not the only solid wood in here.”

At first Scott didn’t catch my double-entendre, but my hand loosening his belt and sliding down the front of his pants put his mind on the right track. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, which was firm and ready. His lips pressed harder against me in response to my touch, and his fingers laced through my hair and held my head in place. Scott moaned into my mouth and his breath hissed through his nostrils as I lightly squeezed his member. I felt goosebumps forming on my arms as my nipples brushed against his chest. I pushed my breasts forward, pressing into him and moaning softly at the sensation.

“Do you want to just take me here on the table?” I asked softly, my voice distant.

Scott’s mouth traveled down along my neck. He took a nipple between his lips and lightly played with it for a moment. I leaned back to give him all the access he desired.

“Table’s solid but… probably not comfortable,” he mumbled around my nipple. Then putting his mouth next to my ear, he nibbled my earlobe and said, “It would feel great for me, but I want you to enjoy this, too.”

I squeezed my legs as he planted feathery kisses on my jaw and neck. “Whatever you say,” I whispered, beyond the point where I could think clearly.

I felt his arm slide under my knees, then with an exaggerated grunt, he lifted me up. I laughed and bit his shoulder playfully. Scott steered us to the bedroom and gently laid me down on the bed. He unbuttoned and lowered my jeans, then slid my panties off. I softly cried a long ohhhhhhh as he slid his finger inside me. While I was concentrating on the exciting sensations that his sudden penetration aroused, Scott’s tongue pressed down on my clit. I squeaked in surprise.

He began running his tongue down my slit, then up again to the clit, circling it and lightly pressing it. As he did that, his finger moved very slowly in and out of me. Once he had established a bit of a rhythm that way, Scott used his free hand to rub my belly. I loved the way his fingers spread out, covering as much skin as his hand span could manage. He would sometimes slide up and gently cup a breast, but mostly he stayed in my mid-section.

I urged him on with moans and soft cries, knowing that his talented tongue would easily lead me to release. In some ways, he was like a mind-reader, knowing exactly what I wanted him to do to me. When I felt my skin buzzing, I knew I was close.

“In me,” I whispered. Scott didn’t seem to hear me, so I spoke up. “Scott. Put it in me. I want to feel you when I cum.”

Not ceasing his ministrations between my legs, Scott pulled down his pants and kicked them to the side. Then moving his knees up between my legs, he continued licking in his new position. I began to whimper, feeling very close but trying to hold off long enough to feel him enter me. “Hurry,” I whined.

Scott lifted his head and reached over to the kadıköy escort nightstand. I grabbed his arm and he looked at me. Squeezing my thighs together and wiggling my hips I asked, “You’re clean?” Eyes wide, he nodded. Breathing heavily I asked, “And you’ll pull out?” He nodded again. “Just this once,” I told him huskily, then spread my legs. I took his cock in my hand – it was warm and solid, pulsing with need. I pointed it towards the focal point of my own aching need, and with no further word, he pushed in. I cried out in relief, taking in for the first time – so far as I could remember – the intimate feeling of an unshielded cock inside of me.

It was insanity, letting him take me like this, but my lust-fogged brain suppressed the warnings that tried to steer me towards a safer course. I already felt closer to him than I had to any other man I had met – but I had only known him for a week – but it felt so good – but it was a big risk – but maybe it was worth the risk – and it felt so good!

Heedless of my internal debate, Scott pushed very slowly in and out, more for my benefit than his own, it seemed. I adjusted my hips and found the contact point I needed to finish the job. I met his slow thrusts with my own, and in less than a minute I was cresting. Scott straightened his arms and looked down at me. Our eyes met as I started to cum, and I tried not to break that connection. My body, however, acted on impulses of its own and squeezed my eyes shut. I grabbed his arms and clutched them as my legs stretched upward and outward. Scott pushed harder in, not letting the force of my spasms thrust him out. I froze as my body reached the most intense phase of my orgasm, and as my eyes fluttered open, I saw Scott still gazing down at me. I hadn’t known love, but if love had a facial expression, that must be it.

I could hear my own soft cries and whimpers as I wound down. Scott relaxed his pressure on me, and I could again bring my feet down to rest on the bed. I loosed my grip on his arms and rubbed his shoulders instead. My lips formed the words, “Thank you,” but I could produce no coherent sounds. And yet Scott kissed my cheek and whispered, “Anytime.” He resumed his slow thrusting and asked, “Do you want to get the condom now?”

“Are you close?” I asked, still catching my breath.

“I can be soon,” was his reply.

Taking a few deep breaths and putting my hands on his chest, I said, “When you pull out, roll over and I’ll help you finish.”

He closed his eyes, smiled, and nodded slightly. Then he bent his arms and lowered himself closer to me. The new position gave him a different angle of purchase, and I could feel his shaft now rubbing along the back wall of my vagina instead of the front. He groaned in pleasure and sped up. I started kissing him, but he became too distracted by the urge to pound into me. I rubbed his back and moaned softly in his ear.

Scott maintained that pace for another few minutes, then he moved both hands down to grip my ass. Holding one cheek in each hand, he pushed harder into me. He began grunting and straining and I wondered if he had forgotten that he needed to pull out. “Ready?” I prompted him.

At that signal, he pulled out and rolled onto his back. I scrambled to get in place, lifting his wet member up from his belly and taking it into my mouth. I think he was surprised by that, expecting me to use my hand, perhaps. As my lips slid down as far as they could go, Scott groaned and shouted, “Oh, GOD!” His hips pushed up at my mouth instinctively, but my hand at his base kept him from hurting me. After a few bobs of my head, Scott put one hand on the smooth skin of my back and the other on the back of my head. “Millie!” he shouted and I pushed down with my mouth, propelling him headlong into his release. I pulled back, holding my lips around the crown as he sprayed into my mouth. I flinched at the novel sensation, but still managed to hold still until the last pulse. I pumped him one more time with my hand to make sure he was fully spent, then I pulled away and swallowed.

“Millie?” I teased him.

Without pause he said, “You know… short for Amelia… It’s hard to shout out so many syllables when you’re about to cum.”

Curling up at his side and putting my head on his chest, I said, “It’s OK if… you know, there’s another woman in your life. You can be honest with me. We haven’t made this anything… formal, right?”

He was silent for a while, then he spoke softly, “No, we haven’t, but I’ll put the ball in your court on that. You’re very special, Amelia… Millie,” he said teasingly, poking me in the ribs until I giggled. “I have no trouble picturing us together, but I sense some hesitancy on your part.” I didn’t say anything. He continued, “Maybe I’m wrong on that. But I’ll just put it out there… I want more of you. Take your time and think about it, OK?”

I felt uncomfortable and excited at the same time. It didn’t seem fair to him that I wasn’t being completely open, that he didn’t know that there really wasn’t any more of me to give. I wasn’t a whole person, and he had all there was to get. What made me sadder still was realizing I felt bad about that only because I cared about him. For him I wanted to be more.

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