An Indigo Bunting

"I'm sorry Frank," she paused to reflect, "it wasn't fair of me to ask."

"All's fair in love and war, right?"

She smiled.

"Sophie, let me put it this way, I don't have an ulterior motive or agenda, except obviously for getting into your pants..."

"You've already done that," she interjected.

"Almost," I replied. "And if a relationship develops, I don't know what it's going to look like."

She just stared at me.

"But I'm making no promises, nor am I setting up any limitations," I continued, "does that sound fair to you."

"I would like you to promise me something," she answered.

That startled me a bit. "What's that?"

"That we have sex tonight."

Mental fist pump in the air. "Okay,thatI can promise you."

"Good. Thank-you." She had a massive grin on her face.

We resumed walking. She picked up my hand.

"So let me get this straight," I asked, "you want sex, not lovemaking. Sex. Is that right?"

She answered right away, "Hard, passionate, sweaty, sex. That's right. Not gentle lovemaking. Sex."

"I'm good with that."

"Great."

"You certainly aren't shy are you?"

We stopped walking.

"No Frank, I'm fifty two, I'm way past shy."

"So I blew it last weekend, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't say that you blew it, after all, here we are right now," she was grinning, "and you just promised me something." She stepped in tight next to me and curled her arm around my elbow.

"Indeed I have."

We walked off. I turned to the dog, "Let's go Lovie."

"So, let me get this right," I asked as we walked along, "are you suggesting that you don't want to see if a relationship develops?"

"I didn't say that," she answered, "I'm sorry if I gave that impression."

"No, you didn't. I just wanted for us to be clear."

"Well, let's be crystal clear then. I don't want to be thrown away like a cheap slut."

I suddenly realized that I hadn't ever heard her use a term that was even close to being a cuss word or swearing or anything.

"Do I get to treat you like one when we have hard, passionate sex?" I knew I was way out on the limb with that. But she did make me promise.

She squeezed my arm tighter and smiled up to me, "I expect you to be a gentleman."

Before I could formulate a clever reply she added, "Until we get to the bedroom."

All I could do was laugh.

We walked along, she said "Look a RoseBreastedGrosbeak."

"Oh we managed to say that word without changing colour," I chuckled.

She chuckled too.

"So what colour is your breast? You know I have to ask."

"Rose, how big is your grosbeak?"

"Ha! I'm afraid this gentleman won't tell, but one thing I can say is that at this point I think my balls are probably indigo blue."

We stood facing each holding hands and laughing out loud for a while. When our laughter subsided she was left with a curious grin on her face.

I kissed her. It was hot. My tongue dove down her throat and then her tongue into mine. Lovie messed it all up by insisting that she get between us.

Stupid dog.

We decided that we had gone far enough and turned around. We munched on chicken salad sandwiches as we walked along. Lovie of course managed to walk right between us while we ate, hoping that a morsel would fall her way.

"You didn't put chopped egg in with the chicken salad?"

"Frank there's something morally wrong with that. It would be like boiling veal in its mother's milk."

I just looked at her. I must have had a startled expression. "But you made veal with a cream sauce?"

"That's different."

"I don't understand."

"And that is fine Frank. I do. There's just something not quite kosher about it."

"But you're not Jewish, you're New Christian. I don't get it."

"If I were Jewish, would that be a problem for you?"

"No of course not. I just don't understand the whole chicken and egg thing. Tuna and egg is fine, but chicken and egg is not. I don't get it. It must be me."

She just walked along momentarily leaving me standing slack jawed. Lovie followed her sandwich. There was more to that woman than meets the eye. That was for sure.

"I'm sorry," I said when I caught up with her, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh, I'm not upset," she answered, "and I'm sorry if I upset you. Let's just drop the whole thing."

"Okay."

"Kiss me then."

I did, she smiled and we walked off hand in hand.

I guessed it was growing up in an all testosterone environment.

There were quite a number of different birds that we saw on the way back, including a bunch of Cedar Waxwings. Way up high. Really cool looking birds.

We walked along back towards the Toyota. "Sophie, you must explain what you were talking about last Sunday. That whole Arian with an I thing."

"Okay, I'll try. But are you sure you want me to?"

"Yes. I'm intrigued. I'm intrigued about you."

She smiled. "How much of the Bible do you know, specifically of the New Testament?"

"I don't know. As much as the next guy I guess, probably less."

"How about of the Romans? The Romans and their history?"

"About the same I guess. I saw the movie Gladiator."

"Well, that's a start."

"I know that Jesus Christ was crucified by the Romans and now we have the Roman Catholic Church."

"Okay, how do weknowthat?" she asked.

"Because it's written in the Bible?" I knew I was on shaky ground.

"Correct, specifically the New Testament, as it has been preached to us for hundreds of years. But what is it that we really know?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly," she paused for a moment, "everything we think we know, we in fact have to take in faith."

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"We can be pretty certain that there was a historical Jesus. Maybe not one hundred percent certain, but pretty certain. But are we certain that he walked on water? Or raised the dead? Can we be sure that he was borne from a Virgin Mary and died on a cross for our sins, or do we just have to take that on faith?"

"On faith, I guess."

"Exactly. But here's something that we can be absolutely certain about."

"What's that?"

"That whatever went on two thousand years ago in connection with the historical Jesus, it had a profound influence on the world, on civilization and on the history of this planet. Wouldn't you say that is true, no matter what you believe in?"

"Yes, I agree," I answered confidently.

"And I may add," she said also confident in herself, "that His influence, his message spread rapidly like wildfire."

"I guess that's true also."

"Undeniably. So what was the real message? What was so profoundly different? Were people caught up in His preaching or was it and is it still just a cult of personality, the razzle-dazzle of a few good miracles including rising up from the dead and eternal salvation through His suffering on the cross?"

"I honestly don't know."

"And neither did I."

"But now you know? Look a woodpecker."

"Good spotting Frank. Tell me is it a Downy or Hairy?"

Through my binoculars I answered, "Whichever is the bigger of the two. Hairy." I asserted, It was a wild guess.

"Very good Frank, you're getting to really know your birds."

But not the rare bird I was walking next to. The more I got to know her, the less it seemed I knew about her.

Just by the parking lot there was an open area with a bit of a slope. It was covered with young ferns, just popping out of the ground. I had noticed them as soon as we set off that morning.

"Sophie, do you like fiddleheads?"

Puzzled, she answered, "Yes, why?"

"Because we're having some for dinner. C'mon follow me." From my little pack I retrieved a pair of plastic bags normally reserved for cleaning up after Lovie. I handed one to Sophie.

"Oh look," she said as we approached the slope. She was a little excited, "I've never collected them before. Can they all be eaten? Or is it one type that we are looking for? I didn't even notice them."

"Absolutely, they can be eaten. I don't know if all types of fern sprouts can be, but I'm absolutely certain these ones can be. Pick the ones that haven't started opening yet." I reached down and snapped one off with my fingers, "Just like that," I dropped it into my plastic bag.

We collected fiddleheads for the next half hour. Lovie was asleep in a patch of sunshine. It was evident that some animal had been feeding on the fiddleheads too. Probably deer. We each had a full plastic shopping bag of fresh fiddleheads. At least a pound each.

*

I showed Sophie around my house. The first few front rooms are my office, the rest living space consisting of a large living room with dining table at one end, a nice kitchen, a combination pantry laundry room and a washroom which is also used by the office. There are three bedrooms and two baths upstairs, and in the basement storage space, a tool bench and a rec room.

"This house is wonderful," she said looking through the sliding back door from the big living room, "are those your fields behind the house?"

"No, my parcel is just three quarters of an acre. The field belongs to Jeremy, his farmhouse is about a half mile down the road."

"It's so beautifully landscaped," she said as she looked out through the glass door.

"It has to be doesn't it? Clients come here."

"Wow the kitchen," she gazed around as we put the fiddleheads down on the counter, "very, very nice."

I smiled.

"What can I get you to drink?" I asked.

"Ooo...do you have white wine?"

"Certainly," I answered knowing I had practically everything under the sun.

I poured us each a glass of Pinot Grigio, "Come let's sit outside before it gets too cool."

Stepping onto the back deck with wine in hand Sophie's head spun from side to side trying to take it all in.

"An outdoor kitchen, a hot tub, wow, this is fantastic. I love those big clay pots. And the view!"

"Well there's not much view right now. But it will be corn this year. Just a wall of green corn."

I turned the heat up on the hot tub, just in case. She sat down on one of the patio chairs.

"I really enjoyed our walk today Sophie and our frank discussion."

"I'm glad that things are crystal clear between us."

I knew I smiled at her as I said, "Okay, so let's just set the agenda here. I'm going to make dinner, we'll get nice and relaxed. Then, perhaps we'll have a hot tub and it would be really, really nice if you stayed the night."

"When do you get to keep your promise?"

"Any time you wish, starting right now."

She tried to contain herself but she couldn't. The grin escaped. "I would prefer to stay the night, if that's alright with you."

"Great," I said. I knew I was smiling, yet inside I was silently whooping it up.

"Aside from fiddleheads, what's on the menu?" she asked then added, "and what can I do to help?"

I glanced at my watch, strip naked I thought, but said, "There are two choices. Both can be done on the barbeque. One is really nice strip loin steaks and the other is whole trout."

Her eyes lit up, "Oooo."

"It's only five thirty," I said, "what time would you like to eat?"

"I'm fine. Whenever really. I'm fine. I am hungry though."

"Fine, I'll get started on it now."

"What are you going to have?" She asked.

"The same as you," I answered, "you pick. Or we can have both."

"Do I have to decide?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Trout?" she said demurely, smiling.

"Trout it is then," I answered, "I've a special grilling basket for fish."

"It really is beautiful here," she said strolling around a little. "It's all private isn't it? And I love the carvings on the woodwork. Did you do that?"

"No not me personally. I have a guy that does it for me. But it's my signature look in landscape design," I used finger quotes, "at least in one aspect of it. The wood carving kind of pulls everything together don't you think?"

"It does," she answered, "that little floral pattern here and there adds a bit of whimsy. You really are quite talented." Sophie smiled at me.

"And you are lovely," I said as I stood up. "I'm just going to get the fiddleheads, I'll be right back." I walked into the kitchen and retrieved my bag of fiddleheads. It was so nice to have her at my place. In all the years since my divorce, the few women that I had over for a 'date' was all tied up with me trying to win the girl over so that we could perhaps build our lives and families together. With Sophie, after our talk, that pressure was gone. It was as if I was out with an adult for the very first time. She was just fun to be with and I was already committed to fucking her brains out. Everything was just plain dead simple with her. So refreshing. And yet, there was so much to learn about her.

I sat down at one of the stools at the outdoor kitchen. Sophie was still on the patio chair perhaps fifteen feet from me, sipping her wine. "Would you like some help?" she asked.

I grinned at her, "Well the deal was that I'd make dinner for you, but if you want to come and help me trim and wash some fiddleheads, I'll be more than honored just to rub elbows with you."

"We can rub elbows together right now, but after dinner we'll rub something else together," she said smirking as she stood up and pulled her reading glasses from her fanny pack.

I chuckled, "That's not the coy, demure lady that I met in the bookstore is it?"

She stepped up to me, put her arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek, "No, it's not. You better get used to it buster."

Wow!

"How about if you pick some music for us? I put in brand new outdoor speakers last week. The old ones got chewed."

"Chewed?"

"Yeah. These are wireless. The friggin' rabbits kept eating the old speaker wires."

"Rabbits?"

"They live under the deck." I opened the sliding door. We both stepped inside.

"Even with Lovie here? Where is Lovie?"

We stepped up to the sound system in the living room. "After today's walk, she's snoring upstairs. She sleeps in Jerry's old room. Here, find a CD." I turned everything on and set up the outside speakers.

I was surprised by her choice. Spirit – Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus.

"Is that too loud for the neighbours?"

"What neighbours? Jeremy's a half mile away. Anyway there's a remote."

The music wasn't loud.

I loved watching her slender fingers as she worked at trimming fiddleheads and thinly slicing fresh lemons. She was a woman who was completely comfortable in her own skin. She would look at me from the top of her blue reading glasses and smile, the gold chain hanging like jowls and swaying to the music.

And the music was perfect. She was such a joy to watch as I flitted about getting pots and pans, drinks and food from the kitchen. I lit the barbeque.

Sophie stood beside me running her pink fingernails through my hair as I sat at the counter and placed the trout in the trout basket and then lined the inside of the trout with lemon.

"I'm jealous of your hair," she said.

"Why?"

"Mine is thin compared to yours."

"Mine is going grey."

"Well if didn't colour mine, it would be grey. Besides, you're not grey. You just have a few grey hairs here and there. It looks good on you. You are a handsome man."

"I'm glad you think so." I said with sarcasm in my voice as I stood up to wash the fish off my hands.

"You are Frank. You have a nice jaw line, your teeth are straight and white, a nice smile, nice brown eyes that sparkle with intelligence."

"Hazel eyes."

"Okay hazel. You have a straight nose and an overall distinguished countenance."

"I have a countenance?"

She smiled at me with that upper lip curl.

"No...I have accountants," I said as I dried my hands.

"And a good humour."

I turned the pan on for the potatoes and the pot of fiddleheads.

"Lovie is at the back door, shall I let her out?"

"Please do, we don't want her going in the house."

As she opened the sliding door, Sophie said in a cutsie, half-octave higher voice, "Hi Lovie do you need to come out?" Lovie trundled out and headed to her spot behind the trees.

"Why do you do that?" I asked as I put the trout basket on the barbeque.

"Do what?" she answered.

"Speak to the dog in a funny voice."

We were both chuckling as she answered in her cutsie half-octave higher voice, "I don't know."

After that we were both laughing, her again in her musical quality. Then we were holding each other, smiling. The track Mr. Skin came on.

Ah ha ha ha ha haha

Then we were dancing.

"So this is why you picked this album."

Oo who who who-who oo who

She had the most mischievous smile on her face as her hips swayed to the music.

I raise my head in a touchy situation.
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)
Yes, I make my bed in the heart of the nation
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)
I know it's a trait human love
To make all the people holler

She was grabbing my cock through my pants as she danced in front of me and then she started gently rub and squeeze.

Send them lookin' out for their woman
Send them reachin' out for their dollar

I was getting hard. She was grinning wildly, rocking to the music. Chain jowls were swinging.

Oh, I'm rollin' flowin' through the whole population
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)

She had no clue just how horny she was making me.

I can bring you pain
I can bring you sudden pleasure

I was definitely hard. She had both hands on it. Ten pink fingernails danced on the front of my pants.

"If you keep this up..."

"I keep it up?" she interjected.

"Exactly," I chuckled, "if you keep it up, we won't be eating soon and the trout will be burnt."

She laughed.

"And I'll have to change my underwear."

She was still laughing but didn't let up.

I'm Mr., Mr. Skin
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)
I'm Mr., Mr. Skin
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)

I ran for the trout before I came in my pants. She was howling in laughter. "I have a promise to keep!" I yelled as I turned the trout basket.

She was holding her sides. Her face was all red. That woman was crazy. So unlike Carol.

I fed Lovie and eventually dinner was ready and we dished it all up.

We had grilled trout, sautéed Parisian potatoes which I had boiled the day before and fiddleheads with butter all dressed with sprinkled fresh parsley and twists of lemon.

Wine was a very nice pre-chilled Petit Chablis.

We ate dinner inside. The table was already set with my best plates and silverware. The white tablecloth and napkins contrasted the indigo blue candles.

I pushed her chair in as she sat up to the table.

"So nice, thank you," she said settling in.

When the Spirit CD finished I put on the Best of Nat King Cole. It played quietly in the background.

We talked about everything and anything under the sun except sex or birds. Or God or Jesus for that matter. I remembered her comment about her previous 'dates' not letting her express her opinion. I couldn't possibly imagine how that could have happened. Sophie was intelligent, engaging, witty, well rounded on any topic and she had a wry sense of humor that would poke through every now and again. On top of it all she was just so damn polite all the time.

Dinner was finished, dishes were cleared and the kitchen was cleaned-up too; all without breaking the conversation. She was trying to explain Jewish dietary laws and how that same principle was violated by feeding cattle with a meal made of meat from infected cows had led to mad cow disease.

"Oh, so it's the chicken and egg thing." I said while washing the pot which held the fiddleheads.

"Yes. Chicken and its babies together, in this case it's unfertilized egg, it's just plain wrong." She took the rinsed pot from me.

"Okay fine. But let me say this. I'm delighted to find that you have a moral compass." I rinsed the lid.

"Yes I do. And I hope that you do to, because one of the things that I expect from you is that you will honour your promises." She grinned at me with tea towel in hand and took the lid from me.