Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

I knew I wouldn’t hear from them for a while, that only time could ever bring about a rapprochement, but even so I waited hopelessly all during the fall and winter and spring. I wrote them letters, weekly, long letters, explanations, observations, advice… love letters to my daughters… but I never heard back.

~~~~~

“They’re not staying out here this summer professor, only going to be here for the fourth of July,” Mrs. Kramer told me as she counted out the change for my groceries on a late June day the next year.

“Who’s that Ellen?” I asked, fearing the answer I knew was coming.

“Your neighbors, those nice Butler girls.”

“Oh, how come?” I managed to reply.

“Studies or something or other. That’s what Old John said to Millie anyway. Apparently the Missus will be here any day though,” she finished

~~~~~

She was walking slowly up the beach, and as I watched from the sofa on the balcony, was surprised when she turned in towards the house, something she hadn’t done in some seventeen years. She looked up as she crossed the lawn, and with her eyes locked on mime, waved the fingers of her left hand and mouthed, “Hi.”

“Hi to you,” I called back.

“Can I come up?” Seeing my nod she crossed the patio and disappeared from my view as she entered the house.

“I always liked sitting up here Jimmy,” were her first words when she emerged onto the balcony and sat down on the sofa, her long legs tucked under her.

“It’s been awhile.”

“Well…”

“I missed you,” I told her.

“Me too… ,” she said with regret.

We sat on the old sofa for hours that evening, talking quietly as the sun went down in a blazing ball of fire in front of us. We just talked of the past, those few summers we’d shared.

“I don’t want to talk about the girls tonight,” she finally said, at last bringing up the topic that had hung over our whole conversation.

“Okay.”

“Can we swim now?” she asked, a sly girlish tone in her voice.

“I don’t have my suit on,” I laughed.

“Me neither,” she grinned.

We swam and laughed and splashed and kissed as we frolicked naked in the surf, and for a few minutes we were transported back twenty years, in love again. We didn’t make love that night, but knew we could, knew that the same magic still existed between us.

“I’m going home to Sweden for the summer,” she told me as I walked her home, my arm draped around her shoulder.

“What? You and hubby? The girls?”

“No, just me.”

“But…,”

“The family, the girls, all the cousins, all the Butler aunts and uncles, they’ll all be here for the July 4th weekend. Then I’m gone. On the seventh. Alone!”

It was late in the afternoon on the fifth, the day after the parade and during the annual Butler family party, that I walked up the beach and through the sea grass, refreshed from a swim, that I saw the two of them, sitting quietly on the steps leading up to my yard in their party dresses, watching me somberly as I approached.

“Still swimming naked, eh professor,” Isobel muttered grumpily.

I simply sat down between them and put a wet arm around each of them. They both leaned their heads against me, but for ten minutes none of us spoke, until Samantha finally rose and said, “We have to get back Izzy.”Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“Hey,” I called when they were twenty feet away, “will you write me?”

Neither turned but I’m sure I heard a mumbled, “maybe” as they turned onto the beach.

I flew to Stockholm on the seventh; Mrs. Brigitte Butler only laughed when she found me sitting in the next seat to her on the plane…

I foresee a future now, a future that involves my two daughters, a future in which I see the four of us sitting at a dinner table, laughing, talking, sharing like any other family…

But I also see the four of us entwined, sweaty, naked, making love …

I wonder, can the two dreams coexist?

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