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Chapter Eighteen

October 26, 1958

Gloria felt the chill salt water, she moved her hands through it slowly back and forth. She felt the resistance of water against her fingers, the texture of sand under her feet and minnows nibbling the dead flesh on her legs. Her head and neck were above the surface, facing the beach. It was a quiet evening, the sun was almost down behind her, and the Gulf was calm.

She'd watched the young man pass before her twice as he walked along the beach. He looked a little like Michael, but slender and with a full head of hair. He moved somewhat awkwardly, seemed distracted. She didn't think he had noticed her at all. He was approaching her spot for a third time, watching the sunset, not seeing her in the water.

Gloria moved closer to the beach, keeping most of her body below the surface. She was chilled. When Michael's son was near, she splashed. She brought her face and head out of the water and used her hands to pull her hair from her face.

"Would you be able to help me?" Gloria watched his face as he finally located her.

He looked at her closely.

"Some boys took my things, my clothes." She smiled shyly at him. "I think they left my robe." She wondered if he could see her shy smile.

He turned to where she pointed on the beach. He turned to her.

"I'm afraid it wasn't a good idea, was it, to go skinny-dipping?" Gloria moved closer to shore; she raised herself so the water left the tops of her breasts. "Would you be able to help me?" She watched him closely.

He gave a nod.

"Would you be able to get me my robe, if it is still there? I hope it is still there. Is it?"

He walked to the black robe, picked it up off the sand and gave it a brisk shake. He carried it to the edge of the beach. "I won't look." He held the robe out to her.

Chivalrous. Gloria smiled to herself. She stood up and used her hands to wipe water from her arms, body and legs. She walked to him and took the robe from his loose fingers. She studied him as she covered herself. Michael's nose and ears, softer lips, a few pimples.

"Thank you." She gave a soft laugh. "You can open your eyes now."

He studied her face.

"Did they leave anything?"

He shook his head. He kept his eyes on her face, didn't drop them lower.

"Darn. My car keys were in my shorts pocket." Gloria turned and stared toward the few cars parked along the beach drive, a distance off.

He didn't say a word.

"Guess I'll have to walk." Gloria smiled at him, turned and took a step.

"I can drive you." His voice hadn't finished breaking.

"Could you?" Gloria watched him. "That would be wonderful." She touched his arm lightly. "I have spare keys at my home."

He pointed. "My car isn't that far." He walked toward it.

Gloria followed him. He's so shy, she thought. I expected someone more like Michael. "You probably think I'm dizzy or something. Skinny-dipping out here on a public beach. Getting my clothes stolen."

He didn't speak. She followed him to the car.

He opened the door, began to sit at the driver's seat.

"My name is Gloria." She opened the passenger door.

"Oh. My name is Michael." He sat in his seat and put the key in the ignition switch.

Gloria wondered if he was a second or third. It was too dark to read the book covers between them on the bench seat.

"Michael, I can't thank you enough for saving my life."

He nodded.

Gloria moved her legs slightly apart so the robe opened and exposed most of her left thigh. She turned to him. "Oh." She smiled. "I live on the south side, on the Key."

Michael started the car. He backed out of the parking space and then went forward on the beach drive.

"Do you have a nickname?" She paused. "Michael seems so formal."

"Junior."

Gloria picked up one of the books and held it so she could read the cover in the passing streetlights. She put the book back down. "In college?"

"High school."

"You look older than that."

"Senior."

She watched him until they came to a red light. She picked up a book and let it drop. "Sophocles." She laughed, a delicate trill of notes. "I'm glad I'm not in high school."

He looked at her quickly, then turned back to face the front of the car. He shifted as he accelerated at the green light.

"Oedipus Rex."

He nodded slowly. "Just reading it for myself, not school."

"Thought so." Gloria waited until they came to another red light and stopped. "Most guys would have said or tried to do something." She laughed. "After all, I am more or less naked. Dizzy besides."

He stared at the street.

"It's nice being in a car with a man who doesn't feel like he needs to paw me."

The light turned green.

"You're intelligent, good looking. I imagine your girl friends appreciate a man who treats them like human beings." She smiled. "Thank you for not making this any more awkward for me than it already is." She flipped the robe so it covered her bare leg.

He didn't seem to be holding the steering wheel any less tightly.

Gloria opened her door, turned on the light for the living room. "It's a mess." She turned back at him and smiled over her shoulder. "Sorry."

Michael followed her into the room.

"Would you like something to drink?" She stopped and turned. "I could make us a quick dinner." She smiled at him. "After all, you saved my life." She turned and walked out of the room speaking, "Put something on the stereo. I'll make us spaghetti."

Gloria walked into her room, turned on the light. She neatened up the bed, shoved dirty clothes into the closet. She took off the robe and thought for a moment. She laid the robe in a chair seat and heard the stereo begin playing. She smiled to herself. She opened her drawer, took out a black slip. She dropped it over her head and shoulders, patted it into place.

Gloria walked to the end of the hall. "Perfect choice."

Michael turned and stared at her.

"I need to brush my hair, finish dressing. I'll be out in a moment. Make yourself at home."

Gloria re-entered the living room a few minutes later, her wet red hair brushed, hanging limply on each side of her face. She wore a simple dress with buttons. "Do you like spaghetti? Is wine okay?"

Michael looked up from the book he held.

"What is that?" She walked to him, tipped the book up so she could see the cover. She smiled at him, went into the kitchen humming to herself. A tough nut to crack, she thought. She poured two glasses of wine, one full, one half full. She carried the full glass out to Michael. "Spaghetti is quick." She left him, saying over her shoulder, "I'll let you know when it is time to light the candles."

Michael sat on the sofa, book closed in one hand, glass of wine in the other, listening to her hum in the kitchen along with the music from the stereo.

Gloria picked up her wineglass, gave Michael a smile, one of those where her tongue briefly showed, took a sip and kept her eyes on his. She put the glass down next to her plate. Spaghetti with candles and wine had been a hit. Michael was chatting. Not now, he was watching her. But a few minutes ago.

Gloria turned her wineglass a quarter turn, raised her eyes to Michael's. "I already know how I want to thank you." She pushed the glass toward him a fraction of an inch.

He started to shake his head.

"I was," Gloria stopped, slid the glass back toward her. She smiled. "I was hoping I could further impose on you." She stood up, picked up her dishes. "I was hoping you'd take me back to my car tomorrow morning." She walked a step and turned. "I was hoping you'd be able to spend the night." She smiled. "That's a bit fast, I know." She carried the dishes into the kitchen. She walked back into the room, gathered his dishes. "I'll let you blow out the candles." She walked back into the kitchen and ran hot water into the sink.

Gloria stood at the kitchen door. "The phone is by the sofa, in case you need to call anyone."

Michael looked up at her. He was bent toward the candles, his hand at the back of the flame.

"Tell them you're helping a friend on a project." She went back into the kitchen, turned off the water, put dishes into the sink.

Gloria went into the living room with the wine bottle in her hand. She'd taken off her dress, laid it over the old white kitchen windsor chair of her mom's. Her glass was in her other hand, her slip felt cool against her bare skin. She set the bottle down on the coffee table.

Gloria sat next to Michael on the couch, not too closely. His eyes never left her. He's sweating, dear boy, she thought. She wondered what Johnny's first time had been like. Hers was something like this, only she'd been shy, he had not, a professor at her college. She'd thought then that he'd really loved her. She was ready to do anything for him. Had actually done very little. Surprisingly little. More surprising because she was only now, years later, learning how little they'd done.

"Have you seen this? It's new?" She picked a red clothbound book off the table and handed it to him. "Let me take your glass."

He stared intently at the pictures.

Gloria set his glass on the table, filled, and sat back on the couch, watching him. "There's a theater section, that's not the right word, but you know what I mean, near the back." She took a sip of wine. "It's new, comes out four times a year."

Michael nodded, he didn't look up at her.

Gloria got up to turn over the record and added several more to the changer. "When my boyfriend and I sit and listen to records . . . Oh, don't worry, he's not the jealous type." Gloria gave a smile, "Make your call, it's all right to stay?"

Michael nodded.

"Good." Gloria stood. She crossed her arms, bent slightly, took the hem of her slip in her fingers, and lifted. She placed the clump of fabric on the table. She sat on the sofa, brought her legs up under her and leaned against him. "When my boyfriend and I listen to music he likes me to be naked like this, on the couch close to him." Gloria rested her head on Michael's shoulder. He became extremely still. "He likes to touch me." She nuzzled his shoulder. "I like to be touched." She bent her leg and looked up at him. "Anywhere." She smiled. "When you're done reading." She laid her head back on his shoulder. After a minute she said, "This is nice, isn't it?"

She could feel him nod his head.

God, she thought. The kid can fuck. His arms were under her shoulders, his hands holding her shoulders as he pulled himself into her with each stroke. Propped on his elbows, his chest brushed on her breasts, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily. She was spread out open under him. She'd stopped being quiet earlier, on the living room floor, the first time in her house after all these years.

On the floor, a shy high school boy more than a decade younger than her, tears in his eyes, wonder on his face, doing it for the first time, she thought, and her, her first time in her own house.

Now they were on the bed and he kept on going.

Gloria shut her eyes.

She woke him before dawn, when birds began their early morning clamor. She brushed his face lightly with her fingertips, watched his eyes open. She kissed him on his lips, his nose and above his right eye watching her. She moved close to him, pressing her body against his. She laid her leg across his, held his face close to hers.

Earlier she'd listened to the pounding of his heart, her heart, their hearts, and the blood pumping nosily in his veins. Her ear had been on his shoulder, she on top of him. The last time, before sleeping. She'd lazily taken him after getting him hard, or mostly hard, hard enough, in her mouth. She wasn't sure if he'd come. She hadn't, it didn't matter. Being like that was enough. Him in her. Full. Warm. His hairless chest smooth and warm under her hands as she moved.

He was rock hard, morning hard. She rolled off him pulling him over her. They kissed. He needed practice at that. Otherwise, he was a natural. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him close to her. She spoke softly into his ear. "When we get to my car, I want to suck your cock. I want you to come into my mouth so I can taste you." She felt him nod his head once, move more quickly in her pussy.

Gloria wore her dress without her slip. Her slip she tossed onto the back seat of his car. She got into her seat; he closed her door, went around and opened the driver's door.

Gloria watched him start the car. "Michael — God I could never call you Junior — Michael, my boyfriend keeps me pretty busy, but maybe we can do that again sometime. I'll have to choose when."

Michael nodded, backed the car out of her drive.

Gloria played with the buttons on her dress. "You'll get to school in time, won't you?"

He smiled and nodded. He watched the road.

"That's good," Gloria said. She looked at the books on the seat, examining them one by one looking now and again at Michael who drove silently. She'd noticed he was grinning a lot this morning. Still shy, they were shy grins.

"It's the Rambler," Gloria said.

Michael parked next to it.

"These books yours?" Gloria asked. "You own them?"

Michael nodded slowly, still grinning.

"Okay if I write something in one?"

He nodded, watching her pick up a book. She took a pencil off the dash and wrote a few words on the flyleaf.

"Don't look at it until I leave." Gloria opened her door. "You can have my slip." She grinned. "I hope you'll brag; just remember that doing is always better than bragging." She got out of the car, bent to look at him. "I have a pen in my car, I want your number. Plus," she paused, "I want to suck your cock. I want you to come in my mouth. I want to savor you on my ride home." She grinned. "Join me in my car before you leave?" She stood. "Thought so."

Gloria stood by her car door. "In the passenger seat." She held out her arms, "But first I want a stand up hug before you leave." She held him, said into his ear. "Before you fill my mouth with your luscious come." She squeezed him hard, pushed him away and opened her door.

Gloria watched him as he sat in the seat. She handed him her pen. "I'll let you choose where you want to write your number on me." She began to unbutton her dress. "Anywhere you want."

Gloria stopped at the traffic light and looked down at the schedule on the seat next to her. She shook her head. Kitty would be taking off just when she got there. Oh well. She'd had a great time with Michael's son. She expected Kitty had fun with Mark and the girls.

She drove to the next light, decided it was time to become proper. She buttoned her dress after grinning again at the telephone number and small figure Michael had drawn next to it. The little boy held up a placard reading "Kilroy was here." Michael had chosen a spot on her thigh, close to her pussy. A chip off the old block.

Go to the next chapter of Comes the Bride.
Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two | Chapter Twenty-three | Chapter Twenty-four | Chapter Twenty-five
The Schedule

The first part of Switch: a novel is Switch.
The second part of Switch: a novel is The Babysitter.
The third part of Switch: a novel is Comes the Bride.
The fourth part of Switch: a novel is The Revolver.

Disclaimer: Some of the things the characters do in this story are seen as offensive or frightening (even terrifying) by some if not most people. Please don't surprise anyone. Always ask first. Have an agreed upon safe word even if you don't do BDSM.

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