Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter 6

   Okay, we got into a new routine.  No, not an "I'm bored" routine, but
rather an "I can't wait to get home to connect with my soulmate" routine.
Yes, the afternoon swims were part of the routine.  The exercise kept us
both fit, and at forty, it would have been too easy to spread out, as many
of my contemporaries and co-workers had done.  Besides, I had a hundred and
twenty pounds of incentive.

   Another part of the routine was the homework.  I took an active part in
Tina's education as I noted it usually took her longer to write her
assignments than it did to derive answers.

   Meals were another routine.  Some mornings found us eating cold cereal
in the trailer, and other mornings we ended up at the diner up the road in
the direction of my project.  We usually sat at a corner table.  The
waitresses knew us as regulars, and often, we were joined by one or more of
my co-workers.  Everybody was indeed getting used to Alan 'n' Tina.

   Our weekends ...  Sometimes we took off on Friday.  Sometimes we waited
until Saturday morning, but most weekends we were on the road, laughing,
talking, and searching parks and concerts and culture.  And we found it. 
On the advice of Mizz Lillian, we went to a bluegrass festival and Tina
found pure acoustic folk music to be something that meshed with our love of
classical music, and heaven knows, Tennessee has a lot of bluegrass.

   But Mizz Lillian.  She saw the Alan 'n' Tina thing real quick.  "You two
look like you belong together," she'd told Tina one afternoon.

   Tina related that conversation to me that evening, and the next day,
when I stopped in to retrieve my sweetie, she was sitting in her chair in
her customary spot.  There was nobody else in the place, me, Tina, Mizz
Lillian.  Almost two months of visiting every day had me and Mizz Lillian
as more than passing acquaintances.  We'd shared gossip and laughter about
some of the stories from her years of managing this RV park, and I guess
she thought we were at a point where she could get a little personal with
us.

   I guess that's why I didn't hit the floor when she suggested that just
maybe, Tina and I were a couple in the more traditional sense.  "So the
truth, Alan Addison, and don't bullshit an old lady.  I have eyes, you
know..."

   Tina's the one who answered.  "Yes ma'am.  We are.  And the day I turn
eighteen, I'm marrying him!"

   Lillian laughed.  "Good for you, darlin'," she said.  She looked at me.
"Alan, I know what you were thinkin' but this is Tennessee and we've got a
history of girls marryin' young.  Even to older men.  I've seen stranger
stuff than you an' her.  At least she ain't pregnant.  And you have a good
job.  An' she's in school.  That's a lot of "right".  And I can't see much
wrong." She grinned at me.  "But if I was you, I'd buy her a ring."

   That got a giggle from Tina.  And got me to thinking.  Tina and I headed
out the door to our separate cars and we drove to the trailer ...  Ring? 
If she wore a ring and I wore a ring, we'd have US happy, but what would it
be to others around us?

   She'd been thinking, too, when we walked in the trailer.  The door
locked behind her, she was already stripping, preparatory to putting on her
bathing suit for our afternoon swim.  She got down to the "completely
naked" part and stopped, waiting for me to get to the same state.

   The naked embrace was wonderful.  As were the kisses and the fondles. 
They didn't last, though, as we knew that sunlight was waning.  Back out
the door we went, towels in hand, holding hands.  Alan 'n' Tina.  "So what
do YOU think?  The ring thing?"

   "I dunno, babe.  Part of me says 'yeah, right NOW!' But then I think
about what we talked about the other day, about having to live in a world
where the people we want to accept us might need a little time to get used
to Alan 'n' Tina."

   "The ring's already around my heart, Alan.  I'd love to wear your ring.
And I will.  But right now, in school?  That might open up a lot of
trouble." She smiled.

   "I know," I said.  "Just as long as you know how I feel..."

   "But," she said, "what about when we're NOT at work or at school?" Cool
blue eyes.  "Our weekends 'n' stuff..."

   "You know," I said, laughing, "there you go being right again..."

   "You know you were thinking it, too..." Giggle.  "I mean, you want
to..."

   I laughed.  "That's our goal for the weekend.  Go find us rings..."

   We continued our walk to the pool, waving, saying hello to the regulars,
laughing.  It was indeed Alan 'n' Tina.  At the pool, the towels went on
two adjacent lounges and we splashed in, making our laps for the evening,
ending up our exercise cooling off, hanging on the side of the pool.  After
a cool-down we moved to the lounges and were joined by a sixty-something
couple from Ohio.  They were regulars, having been at the park when Tina
and I moved in.  We chatted about work (mine) and retirement (theirs) and
school (Tina's and their grandkid's) for a while and then they slipped into
the pool and Tina and I headed back to the trailer for homework and pasta
carbonara.

   The homework was just about over when the carbonara hit the table.  We
ate, talking about her school experiences.  "I'm old news," she announced.
"Susan's still my friend, and there're a few kids I talk to, but now people
just walk past me in the hall instead of stopping and staring."

   "Yeah," I said, "that's pretty much human nature, babe.  Something new
and exciting will attract their attention.  Another shiny object.  And
life's back to normal."

   "Oh, I love this normal," she cooed.  "I love being loved." Giggled,
too. "And I love our life together.  How about a game of rummy?"

   And that was usually preparatory to me getting a good workout at cards.
I flipped through the steno pad we used to keep score and over that last
month we were tied for winning the most games.  And it was, after we became
intimate, a bedtime thing.  She was dressed in one of my t-shirts and
panties, and I was in a t-shirt and drawers, and I don't know if that
get-up did anything to her, but her in a simple t-shirt, those delightful
nipples poking against the cotton fabric were visual candy.  We played to
five hundred points, a number she reached about a hundred points ahead of
me.  I put the cards and scorepad up and she turned back the covers on OUR
bed.

   In five minutes we were naked in the soft glow of a little night light;
enough light to make out her face, her eyebrows, the way her hair framed
her face, the soft curve of her waist.  Loving her was pure joy, sometimes
soft and tender, sometimes fast, hard, wet, but always exciting.  Tonight
loving Tina was the perfect cap to the day, easing from consciousness to
ecstasy to blissful sleep.  And wonderful sleep it was, rolling over in the
night, regaining semi-consciousness to find a sweet, soft female form in
the dark bed beside me.

   Equally priceless was being disturbed in my sleep, waking to find that
Tina had shifted positions and it was her arm or her leg pulling me closer
to her.

   We had the morning routine almost down pat, combining getting dressed
with preparing and eating breakfast, and heading to separate destinations.
To be factual, it wasn't uncommon for us to drive to a neighborhood
restaurant and eat breakfast there; joined quite often by people I worked
with.  And some mornings my Tina was just a little bit wet between her legs
from the remnants of early morning lovemaking.

   That weekend we disappeared from the RV park to travel to the big city
nearest us, and after an afternoon at the mall and a visit to a jewelry
store, we left with a simple gold band on each of our ring fingers, her arm
wrapping mine.

   Chamber music.  We stayed on the mailing list for the local university's
orchestra and didn't miss a performance.  There were several others like
us, people who had never seen either of us without the other, and we knew
several of them by name.  After the concert we accepted an invitation to a
late night visit to a restaurant for a light meal.  The other couple sipped
wine, but I explained Tina's age and she and I had soft drinks.

   "But you can have wine, if you want, Alan," she cooed.  "I can drive."

   "Sugar," said Sandra, the wife of our friendly couple, "I'm sorry!  We
ordered wine without thinking!  We didn't mean to be rude!"

   "Oh.  Mizz Sandra, that's alright!" smiled Tina.  "Alan and I aren't the
conventional couple.  You couldn't know..."

   Brad, the husband, contributed, "Yeah, Tina, we're sorry.  Not trying'
to be a snob or anything, here..." to me, he said, "Alan, I'm sorry,
buddy."

   "No," I said.  "nothing to worry about.  We enjoyed the concert sitting
with ya'll, and this is perfect.  I mean, a few appetizers, chat among
friends ...  perfect evening."

   Sandra said, "Well ya'll have to come over for a visit one day.  We
could do a barbecue on Saturday and then go to a concert."

   Tina answered for both of us.  "That would be wonderful, Mizz Sandra..."

   "Please, sugar, don't call me Mizz.  Makes me feel so old..." Sandra
smiled.

   "Okay, Sandra," Tina said.  "We can certainly do that.  It's good to get
away from the park for the weekend."

   "Park?" Brad asked.

   "Yeah, let me explain our circumstances." And I told him about how I
worked these projects and added that Tina was in the local high school. 
And the part about being several hundred miles from home.  "Fourteen
hours," I said.

   "If you have to drive," Brad said.  "Pity you can't fly."

   "Oh, I can fly.  I just don't have a plane.  And renting one, well, they
got real expensive since I got my license."

   Brad grinned.  He was an attorney.  Mostly family and business law.  But
he was also a lover of the music and he and his wife were bright, bubbly
people who you just knew were going to be fun to be around.

   "Alan," he said, "I might be able to do a couple of people a favor."

   "What's that?" I asked.

   "I just finished up the disposition of an old guy's property.  He passed
away, left a bunch of money and stuff to his kids, stock portfolio, house,
land, you know ...  And an airplane.  Cessna 182.  His kids don't want to
mess with it.  They want it sold, in their words "NOW!" I advised them that
a more timely approach might net them a bunch more money, but you know how
some people are."

   "Cessna 182's a nice practical plane," I said, "but a good one's six
figures."

   "That's the fun part," Brad said.  "The old guy loved to fly.  Treated
that plane like his personal friend.  Tip-top shape, all that, the plane,
that is, and then he died.  Aneurism took him.  Bang!  He'd been flying the
weekend before, so I'm thinking it's current.  I flew with him a time or
two and he loved it.  Said he wanted to sell it when the time comes, as he
put it, "To somebody who'd love it like he did."

   "Wow," I said.  "I've often thought about it.  But I just never pulled
the trigger." I looked at Tina, who was looking at me, her chin propped up
in her hand.  "When can we see it?"

   "We can meet tomorrow." To his wife he said, "Hon, reach into that
Grant's Tomb that you call a purse and get me something to write on."

   Sandra slapped a small note pad on the table simultaneously with Tina's
notebook.

   "Ah, Alan, you're lost, you know," laughed Brad.  "You're in the hands
of a practical woman." He took Tina's notebook, whipped a fountain pen from
his pocket and scribbled information in it.  "You guys show up here
tomorrow.  What?  After lunch?  One o'clock?"

   "Sounds good," I said.

   Tina's turn.  "Alan, you never stop amazing me.  You're thinking about
buying a plane?"

   "No, babe," I said.  "We're LOOKING at a plane.  There's a lot more to
buying one.  Inspections and stuff."

   Brad added, "Alan seems to know what he's doing, Tina.  Let' see."

   The remainder of the evening was spent in convivial conversation.  At a
bit after ten PM we all said our goodbyes in the parking lot and Tina and I
headed to a slightly upscale hotel for the night.

   We walked into the room knowing that the king-sized bed, and more
important, the HUGE (in relation to the tiny closet in my travel trailer)
shower was a happy indulgence for us.  We indulged in the unlimited hot
water and the space for two happy people to turn a sanitary function into
an exercise in erotic stimulation.  And pure fun.

   After a half an hour shower, we finally got out and bumped into each
other happily as she dried her hair and I shaved.

   "Who gets to smell good tonight?" I asked.  We'd had a discussion of her
perfume being overwhelmed by my aftershave.  That conversation had
collapsed with me saying, "So what YOU'RE saying is that in any situation,
ONE of us is supposed to smell like a goat..." Which brought us to
tonight's decision.

   "Me," she said.  "I'm gonna put a dot of it in two places, and you get
to find them."
   "That's a happy task, cutie," I said, entirely meaning it.