A Face from My Past

"Maybe we could get together again sometime when you aren't so busy," she asked with a slightly more hopeful look on her face after the hug and kiss. "You know, I've always regretted breaking up with you. It didn't take long for me to realize that you were one of the 'good guys.'

"But by then it was too late — some other smart woman had captured your heart. Even when I was married, I would have run off with you in a minute if you had asked. But that wouldn't have happened — which is partly why you are such a good man."

Very pretty sentiment, but I didn't believe a word of it.

I smiled at her, "Ali, that is very kind of you to say. And we will get together soon."

"You promise?" she replied, her tone almost begging.

"Promise. I'll give you a call next time I'm in your neighborhood."

She smiled at that, "I look forward to it." Then in classic Ali style, she turned and walked away, getting into her car and leaving without even a look backwards.

I walked back to the kitchen where I looked at Helen with a grin.

"Fiancée?"

"At the moment it seemed like the most irritating thing I could say to her," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"It seemed to work," I nodded in assent.

"I heard you talking to her at the door. Are you really thinking of giving her another chance?"

I chuckled.

"Not on your life, babes. I will remain a friend, but I could never be anything more. For one thing, if I ever decided to 'taste the wine' with her again I suspect that the 'barrel' would be moved in the next day. And that is a boucoup non non."

Helen nodded her head.

~~~*~~~

After our après-de-funeral dinner with Phil's family, Helen and I had gone to a local bar together and had a drink. She was bewailing the cold temperatures that had plagued the east coast for the entire winter and said that she wasn't looking forward to going back there two days hence.

That was my opening to invite her to stay for a while (assuming that she had the time off available) at my place. My house has four bedrooms, three with comfortable beds — queens or larger. And I had no expectations of her other than she should enjoy herself in the Southern California coastal climate.

She accepted my offer, called her work in NYC, and instead of flying back, she put her ticket into abeyance and settled into my humble abode.

It wasn't until the second night that she crawled into bed with me naked.

"Has anyone mentioned that you're kind of slow on the uptake?" she huffed at me.

I have a very difficult time being harsh or impatient with sexy younger women who've just gotten into my bed and stroked my dick a couple of times. It takes all of the witty repartee out of me as the blood flees my brain for parts south. Plus it had been a long time — over two years for me.

"Did you think that I decided to come and stay with you in your house and not make love with you? What were you thinking?" she informed me in the tone women use when they feel the need to treat a man as the simpleton he is.

"Hope rises eternal," I whimpered, conscious of whose hand was where, "But I would never presume upon your finding me as attractive as I find you."

"You think that I went out for drinks with you because I found you repulsive?"

Well that settled that and we had gotten awfully comfortable with each other over the past three weeks. We'd talked, seen the 'gotta see' sights and places. We'd been to the beach, the local mountains and up the coast to the wineries in Santa Barbara County. We'd compared favorite books, movies and music. We'd explored each other and made love together.

After Ali left, Helen and I ate lunch and went out for a walk in one of the local parks. It felt damn good to be out walking along with a beautiful woman whose arm was wrapped around mine and not enough room between us for light to pass through.

"How much longer can you stay?" I asked, hoping that I didn't sound as desperate for her to stay as I was.

"I called my boss and arranged to work out of our west coast office in Santa Monica; you've got me as long as you can tolerate me chasing off the would be predators and interlopers."

"That could be a long time," I assured her.

Did I mention that Helen worked for one of the national Auction Houses that dealt with art? She did historical research and appraisals on art, mostly paintings, for them. As I said earlier — she is a very smart gal.

"Your apartment?"

"Already had Dad get my stuff out and put it in storage. Gave my landlord his notice. If you'd told me to get out, I wouldn't have an apartment waiting for me back there."

"That takes a lot of faith in my predictability!"

She smiled, "No, just faith in your basic character. You're a good and loving man. Reliable. Dependable. That's why your ex wife showed up again." I looked over at her face. It was a picture of serenity.

"You know that you are too young for me? Or more properly speaking, I'm too old for you," I pointed out.

"That's a question of opinion. Regardless of age, you are the most attractive and fascinating man I've ever known. I think that I love you and I think that you might love me too. Can we take some time to see if I'm right?"

"Oh, I suppose we could test it out for the next twenty or thirty years and see," I concluded, nodding in agreement and deciding not to sweat the details.