Cindy's Offering

After eating Bob's superbly cooked poached flounder, steamed new potatoes and blanched asparagus smothered with a creamy white clam sauce, we sat and talked while drinking the remainder of the beer until we mutually agreed we had to go and leave Carol to Bob then everyone hugged, including Bob and me. The evening was a sweet exchange of affection I hadn't experienced in a very long time.

As Cindy and I staggered backward down the sidewalk towards Cindy's place we waved to Carol and Bob as they stood under the light on their porch petting each others bottoms with one hand and waving back at us with the other hand. Strangely Cindy didn't say a word as we turned and carefully maneuvered our way down the sidewalk. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to support her, talk to her, hold her hand, give her a hug or kiss her on the lips. The only time I touched her was when she tripped on the first step. I slipped my arm under hers and helped her make her way up the remaining steps as she simply slurred, "Thank you David."

When we were standing at Cindy's front door she reached into her pant pocket and pulled out a single key. She hit the lock several times before the key fit into the slot then she twisted the key and pushed on the door with her shoulder. I helped her by twisting the knob and she giggled as the door snapped open. When the door was fully opened she stepped inside then turned and held the door like an emotional support as the light inside outlined her beautiful face like a halo.

She smiled a gentle, but apologetic smile and surprisingly said, "Danny, I'm too drunk to do anything with you tonight, I have to go to sleep." Then she thanked me for a wonderful evening, said goodnight and slowly closed the door. Our eyes gazed into each others as her beautiful face disappeared behind the door. Then the sound of the deadbolt slowly locking filled my ears and I stood alone in near darkness on the very spot where I first saw her. An eerie feeling of abandonment filled me and the prospect of being with Cindy vanished as fast as it had appeared.

That night, I lay in bed deeply troubled. I had to admit to myself Cindy was a very friendly and pretty woman and an incredible knock out when she wanted to be, and, she wasn't afraid to talk about sex or afraid of sex. I thought she might be just a dream because I couldn't clear my mind of my memory of her face as she stood in her doorway that night. Then I reminded myself, Kathy would have never even thought of doing what Cindy did under the table. In fact, Kathy would have considered Cindy's stunt an evil nightmare.

There was no way Cindy could have known about Kathy or about my current marital status. I never mentioned Kathy and Cindy never asked. Somehow I felt Cindy was drawing me out of a deep hole as if she knew I was having trouble escaping from and she wanted to help. But at the same time, I thought Cindy had taken her case as far as she wanted it to go and climbing out of the hole would be my responsibility. I tried to think of any other women in my past that had ever done what I thought Cindy was doing to me. I came to the surprising conclusion the only woman capable of pulling me out of an emotional hole was my own mother, but with a very different magical touch. I fell asleep more confused and the fact I had ejaculated twice in one day for the first time in my life added to the complexity. I had to get control of myself, and quickly. Suddenly I woke, got down on my knees and prayed to God for an answer knowing he was too busy with endless and more urgent tasks, but it was all I had.

The next day I woke late with an unbelievable headache. I decided not to write or to go over to Cindy's but instead do something different. There was a common area behind the duplexes the tenants used for picnics and family gatherings, and there was a large stone BBQ pit near one end. I thought I could somehow pay Bob back for his great meal by cooking up some real old fashion southern BBQ chicken and find a way to get my mind off Cindy as well, so I went to clean a yucky BBQ pit. While I was deep into the mess of finding myself and trying to figure out what the gooey lumps where on the iron rods, suddenly I felt a cool hand gently squeeze my left buttock. I quickly looked beside me and there she was. She looked up at me with a smile while gently kneading my bottom and asked, "How was it?"

Cindy's scent was still potent and it filled my nostrils instantly. I looked down and quickly scanned her body. She was wearing worn holey bell-bottom jeans slightly too long that wrapped her hips instead of her waist and she was barefoot. She had on an over sized bleached denim jacket buttoned at the middle button barely hiding two stiff pink teasing nipples and exposing her navel. It was quite a wardrobe change from the night before including the fact she wasn't wearing makeup or a shirt under her jacket. She was wearing the first piece of jewelry I had ever seen on her other than her earrings, wedding rings and watch. It was a gold chain choker necklace with a tiny gold cross dangling between her clavicles.

The devil's temptation to finish what I had missed the night before rushed through me and I thought about ripping her jacket the rest of the way open, pulling her jeans down to her knees, forcing her into a doggy position on the grass, dropping my shorts and fornicating Cindy in broad daylight. Fighting the evil scene in my mind was more of a challenge than trying to act comfortable with Cindy's cool hand kneading my buttock like a cat's paw. Although my thoughts about Cindy had turned evil, it felt wonderful to be touched by her again. I had to get control of myself, so I simply responded, "It was tasty."

Cindy quickly stepped around to face me and looked straight into my eyes like she was searching deep inside me. She placed her palms on her thighs, opened her mouth as if she was getting ready to sing and spoke with her head slightly tilted then nodded toward my crotch, "Not the food, I meant last night, you know, under the table?"

I smiled and simply said, "It was quite a unique experience."

Cindy stood at attention with her hands on her hips in anticipation of my next words as her gorgeous eyes reflected the subtle blue of the cloudless sky. My honest answer was about to come out of my mouth just as she opened her mouth again and she blurted out, "Do you want to make it with me Danny?"

I wasn't quite sure what Cindy was asking. It could have been an honest question about our friendly relationship or, if she was asking me to have sex with her, I had no answer and was shocked at her forward approach if it was an invitation to have sex. I didn't know what to say but something inside told me to respond to her, and without any forethought, words came out of my mouth as if someone was answering her question for me, "How about Tuesday."

Cindy smiled and her pure white teeth sparkled in the sunlight. She bounced lightly on her toes, then, realizing she overreacted to my answer, she quickly relaxed and dropped her hands to her side. She was so cute all I could do was wink at her just before she looked down and adjusted the cloth of her jacket before her perky breasts popped out. Then she said softly while looking down, "I'm not ashamed of what I did last night, and I wanted to be with you after we left Carol's, but he told me you weren't ready for me." When Cindy looked up her beautiful blue eyes had turned to pools and she looked like she was ready to cry, then suddenly she asked, "Do you understand what I'm trying to ask of you, Danny?"

Before I could respond, Cindy touched the cross at her neck with her finger, looked up and blurted out, "Danny, I've prayed forever for you to show up in my life." Then she bent slightly forward, looked up to my face and whispered, "then suddenly, one day, here you are."

In a flash it all fit together. The reason I was where I was and why I was there as well as the strange reason why I wanted to be with Cindy and work with her potting her plants. Cindy knew the first moment I showed up and Carol knew days before how her friend felt toward me and what she was up to. Cindy's straightforward approach to prayer was refreshing to me even if her offering was contradictory to what I though praying was for. I had met people who claimed they got what they wanted through prayer, but I had never dreamed anyone would ever pray for sex.

I didn't know how to respond to her statement because it was contrary to everything I had been taught all of my life. How could I be so religious, be divorcing a deeply religious woman and deeply desire to have sex with a married woman who prayed to have sex with me? The whole situation was so far beyond my principles I couldn't comprehend it. So I just had to ask the obvious question, "What about your husband?"

I held the BBQ tool in my hand like a drummer holding his drumstick patiently waiting for the nod from the bandleader. Suddenly, Cindy stepped close enough to me one of her breasts brushed my arm. She tapped me lightly on my chest with her pointing finger, winked at me and popped her lips like she was tossing me an air kiss then she said softly, "I can handle it."

I thought her answer to my question odd but after saying the words she stepped around my body and started to walk away. I turned to look at her and just as I did, she stopped and spun on her toes, looked at me with a tilted head, waved from her hip as if she was hiding her hand from someone and said softly, "See you Tuesday." Then she turned and sashayed toward her back door.

All I could do was stand silently with a rusty BBQ tool dangling in my hand like my limp penis and watch the round cheeks of her tight little bottom and beautiful silver hair bounce until she bound up the steps to the back screen door and stopped. When she opened the screen door, she held it ajar and leaned on it then looked back at me as if to confirm I was real. Then she smiled and disappeared through the doorway. I heard the screen door slam shut and my world became silent again.

Standing alone again, I thought it crazy to make plans to have sex. Even thought I fantasized about it, I believed sex was just a word for a physical fulfillment as a result of lust and desire for each other and a simple act of pleasure, that's why it's called sex and not making love. It was the first time I had placed myself in that position and it was becoming more confusing then I had realized it could be. I also believed sex just to have sex was the way of the godless, sluts, whores, porn stars, Carol and Bob, and frankly, me with Kathy.

I never thought sex a sport and never dreamed I'd actually be making plans to engage in such a sport. But the more I got to know Cindy the more I realized she was not a slut, nor a whore, definitely not a porn star, most certainly not Kathy, and it appeared she was not godless but a female searching for something deep inside herself. Suddenly it dawned on me, Cindy might be just like me, someone who had been confusing the word love with infatuation and took the path of sexual pleasure to avoid confronting the difference.

I also feared our relationship might instantly come to a halt if either one of us became unfulfilled by our sexual performance or cease our desire for pleasure which would result in the loss of our ability to be loved and adored. It was crazy. I wasn't convinced the best thing for me to do was to have sex with Cindy and I wasn't convinced Cindy was totally convinced of what she was doing either so I dropped the idea of sex with Cindy by convincing myself it would be better if I told her the truth about myself and see what would happen from there. If we fell in love, our lives would be more fulfilled and we'd be making love more than having sex. When I finished cleaning the BBQ pit I felt better about myself and went inside to clean up, eat something and watch TV. As I walked toward the rear door I realized my splitting headache had vanished into thin air as well as my desire to fornicate my pretty neighbor.

Tuesday morning I woke with a mix of anticipation, anxiety and skepticism about the potential arrival of my special guest. I couldn't see Cindy on Monday because she was with her husband but I found myself periodically peering out of the living room window in hopes of seeing her. I used the day and half the night to clean my 900 square foot palace and plan how I would tell Cindy I wasn't interested in slipping my eel like penis into a married woman.

The shower was hot for a change, the razor was sharp, for a change, and the cologne was the same fragrance I wore the night Cindy played with my penis under the table. It was also my only cologne so my choice of fragrance was limited. I had three cups of black coffee and a toasted English muffin with honey then dressed simply. I figured white briefs with tan shorts and a gray sweatshirt were the right clothes for my up coming confession. I brushed my teeth longer than usual, checked my breath then sat down in front of the TV and waited while flipping thought an endless cycle of the same 100 channels of garbage someone thinks I need to watch.

9 o'clock came and went. 10 o'clock came and went. By 10:30 I had to relieve myself badly, so I got up and went into the bathroom and didn't even shut the door. No sooner had I unzipped my shorts, I heard the doorbell ring. My heart began to race and I quickly zipped up my shorts without urinating then went to the door and opened it.

I looked down and saw an adorable girl standing on my porch holding a small object wrapped in burlap. She had the biggest hazel eyes I had ever seen and her chin length sun bleached roughly cut blond hair framed her face like a haystack. There was touch of freckles on her cheeks and nose as if someone had snapped a wet paintbrush in front of her nose. Strangely she looked like a tiny woman without breasts touting a freshly ravaged look. A flash of heat filled my head as I realized she looked seriously like a miniature Margaret, who, at one point in my life, could have easily shared a deep secret with me, forever and ever.

The girl was wearing a loosely fitting, knee length, soiled pale yellow sundress and scuffed black sneakers with no socks and her visible skin was tanned more than a young body should be. Her t-shirt tan lines were quite visible and she was obviously completely unaware the sunlight behind her blasted through the thin material of her dress clearly revealing her tan lines at her hips. It took me a few seconds to figure it out but I realized she wasn't wearing panties. I knew scanning a little girl's body was inappropriate and sinful but I couldn't help absorbing the innocence of female life before womanhood standing before me. Thoughts of what she would be when she became a woman raced through my mind at light speed. I finally took my eyes off the subtle curves of her lower body and looked into her waiting eyes. I began wondering why God was challenging me with another sin at my door, so I simply said, "Hi."

The girl smiled and spewed her sales pitch without blinking. "Hi sir, my name is Alice ... I'm trying to make money for my art class ... we made these tiles in school ... they're hand painted by me and my friends ... and you can use them for anything ... they're really nice and very pretty ... want to see one?"

I quickly scanned the street, not only for Cindy, but to see if the girl was being escorted. It was a rather ominous neighborhood and I thought it unwise for a young girl wearing a see-though sundress to be wondering around, especially when gangs of bicycle-riding boys with advanced Halloween tricks on their minds filled the streets. The town had more than enough abandon places to hide out in and anonymously take advantage of an innocent little girl. I knew because I had ridden that bicycle once with my school buddies, and the thought of what they planned to do that night in an old abandoned barn made me sick to my stomach. I tossed away many friends after that ghoulish night.

I caught the sight of a beat up white pickup truck parked not far from my front yard under the shade of a large oak tree on the opposite side of the street. There was a man sitting in the driver's seat obviously watching us as he occasionally spit out the window. I figured it was her father or her trusted escort. Feeling relieved the girl was being monitored from a distance, by what, I had no idea, and wondering where Cindy was, I looked down at the girl again.

When the girl noticed she had my attention again, she carefully unwrapped the cloth and gently pulled out a small square ceramic tile with a blob of paint on the glossy face. "It's a maple leaf." She said confidently as she offered up the tile for my close examination.

I thought the painted surface looked more like a green female pubic area rather than a maple leaf hand painted by a youngster, but I reached down to touch the tile with my pointing finger anyway.

"They're a dollar each," spouted the girl proudly as she held the tile up higher.

I almost blurted out what seemed to be an obvious observation to me, but refrained from doing so in order to avoid a possible ugly situation with the girl's nearby tobacco splitting escort and to avoid a probably messier legal situation with her school administrators. I couldn't afford either, so I simply said, "It's a very nice maple leaf, Alice."

Just as I was preparing my excuse for not purchasing a ceramic tile with hand painted green pubic symbol on it, I heard the sound of the squeaky gate and looked up. Cindy was right, I'd always know when angles were coming.

As she had promised, there she was. Her hair was so white and shinny it sparkled like strands of silver in the sunlight. Her face glowed as if a holy brush deep within her had painted desire on it and her pink nipples were as visible as if they were painted directly on the outside surface of her white shirt. I honestly forgot all about the small child standing before me, and to breathe, as I took in the vision of a very adult female advancing toward me like a floating cherub in bell bottom jeans.

Cindy sashayed slowly toward me with her beautiful perky breasts wiggling back and forth and up and down. When she was closer, she smiled an innocent smile and waved from her hip as she shrugged her shoulders. I could tell she was anticipating our encounter with girlish enthusiasm but questioning the presence of a child on our unholy day. Suddenly Cindy's spell on me was broken.

"Mister?" I heard in the distance.

The hand painted green pubic tile was purchased at the bequest of Cindy. I felt Cindy wished to rapidly rid the area of extra players, so I quickly gave the girl four quarters and she bounded down the porch steps in a rush of excitement while saying thank you. Cindy and I stood beside each other and watched as the girl ran down the stone path to the squeaky gate, opened it, looked both ways then crossed the street and disappeared behind the white pickup truck. Cindy made a comment about remembering being that young and that tight and I giggled a little as I waved at the man in the white pickup truck, knowing fully well, Cindy had nothing to fear from little girls. The man appreciatively waved back just as three blabbering boys on bicycles raced passed my gate like jockeys on horseback in a close finish.

My concern for the girl ceased when Cindy noted to me the paint blob on the tile looked like a green fish. I looked down and Cindy was intensely studying the tile's surface by turning it in all directions and running her fingernail across the painted surface. I simply didn't know Cindy well enough to criticize her art appreciation with my crude off handed observation of a girl's idea of a maple leaf, but as I looked again at the paint blob, I realized Cindy's observation actually made sense.