Her Midlife Dilemma

This is a follow-up to "Small Favors...and Dirty Laundry," posted in the Mature section on 1/3/17. It helps to read that one first but not vital. In this third-person narrative, I've given the POV to our heroine, Rene Sutcliff.

*****

So this is what they call midlife crisis, Rene Sutcliff thinks. It is just after Labor Day, soon after she and her husband Vincent see their son Gary off at the airport. He's returning to Princeton University for his sophomore year. Their daughter Erika is gone too, headed for her senior year at Wellesley. Now it's just the two of them, empty nesters, at least temporarily, and Rene is left with a husband not much interested in sex and a lover who can't get enough. She and Adam, her just turned nineteen-year old lover and neighbor, had put the brakes on their affair while her kids were home for the summer. Now they're on the verge of resuming where they left off, and Rene is a bundle of emotions.

At first, it was all about the sex. It started as a conversation on the parking lot of Giant Food, then morphed into the best sex Rene had experienced in a long time—the ONLY sex Rene had experienced in a long time. But now, improbably, surprisingly, she is starting to fall for the teenaged Adam Naylor, he with the "pipsqueak IQ," she once joked, owing to his mediocre grades and choice of college, the much maligned Baynesville Community where those rejected by four-year institutions seek refuge. She never imagined what she discovered after that chance meeting on Giant's lot, that Adam has a keen sense of humor, not to mention a cock and a tongue that sends her into an erotic Eden. He makes her laugh as well as he makes her moan and shriek under his deft lovemaking. Moreover, he's a good listener. Before Gary and Erika had returned home for the summer, they met for lunch where she poured out her problems while he listened, patiently and seemingly concerned.

In short, he likes him, likes him to the point where she's starting to get crazy ideas. Where the sixty-year old Vincent is thinking about retiring from his oral surgery practice and opening up a restaurant, she's thinking of leaving the marriage, getting a two-bedroom apartment and shacking up with Adam. She hasn't broached this outrageous plan with him yet and probably never will. Even in her confused, innervated state, she realizes how irrational it sounds. But maybe this is what midlife crisis is all about, she thinks, a reawakening of one's youthful self, a self that lies dormant under marriage and children and mortgage, the stuff middle-agers grapple with until or unless something comes along that makes them question if such a life is worth pursuing.

The pain she'd inflict on her family by pursuing Adam's company beyond what they had already done would be incalculable, she knows. Tension had reigned between she and her son after Gary had found Adam's sweat pants and underwear in his clothes drawer. She had almost fallen apart fishing for a reasonable explanation, raising his suspicions that something very un-kosher was going on between them. Avoiding further damage would be a simple matter of calling it quits with Adam, chalk it up to experience and perhaps partner with Vincent in his restaurant idea. Sure, she'd remain horny as hell, with no outlet but her vibrator and her imagination, but at least she'd avoid any further trouble.

Of course, life is never simple, at least as it's lived, which is why on this warm September day, she and Adam are on their way to Silver Burch, her exclusive country club, to play a round of tennis. As when she first took him here last June, she's wearing her tennis outfit and Adam, no longer the shy virgin he was prior to their meeting, is rubbing her smooth, tan thighs as she maneuvers through traffic in her white Lexus. Even before they get to the parking lot, she's aroused: her tummy tingles, juices ooze from her cunt and beads of sweat run down her chest into her sports bra.

"Hopefully, Vincent won't show up here like he did last time," she says, referring to that time last June when he knocked off work early to play golf and met them in the dining hall, nearly catching them in some very naughty behavior.

"At least not onto this parking lot," Adam says after she pulls into a space. Rene is dizzy with desire after they start kissing and Adam begins to rub her crotch over her panties. "My god, honey, you're gonna make me come before we even get on the court," she says. "Not that that would be so bad."

However, before they get much further, a car pulls up next to them, and they back off. "To be continued," Rene says, nearly breathless. She glances at her crotch, now soaked from Adam's handiwork and her anticipation of what she hopes will come later.

Last time, Rene won the first two games of their match. Adam still hasn't told her that it was because her body distracted him, her beautiful, Petty Girl legs flexing and her boobs bouncing as she moved around the court. But today they settle for some easy volleying, Rene in her peach colored outfit, Adam in his plain old tennis whites. Not long into their play, Betty and Leroy Gammerman take the court next to them. The Gammermans, like Rene and Vincent, are long-time club members. The fifty-something, silver haired Leroy took a golden parachute his company offered a few years ago, then retired to a life of travel, active leisure and part-time consulting work.

Rene stops play to say hello and then introduces Adam, "college student and neighbor of ours," she says.

Betty, her frosted locks twisted into a bun, gives Adam the once-over, from his muscular calves and broad shoulders to his handsome surfer-boy face and pile of blond hair. "Looks like your gigolo," she quips.

"Yes, but don't tell Vinnie," Rene responds. "He might divorce me."

Rene and Adam look at one another as they laugh along with Betty and Leroy, enjoying the Gammerman's ignorance that Betty's comment isn't far off the mark. Once Adam and Rene tire of play, they risk blowing their cover by ending their volley with an affectionate smooch over the net.

The Gammermans shake their heads. "Well, would you look at that," Betty whispers "I think he is her gigolo."

When Rene comes up for air, she catches them staring. "This isn't what it looks like," she says with a nervous laugh. "We're just fond of one another."

Leroy holds his racket behind his thick neck and rocks from side to side on his hip orange tennis sneakers. "So I see," he says, his capped teeth showing through his broad smile.

Rene could slap herself. She should have known better than to do that in front of Betty Gammerman, an incurable gossip. Trying to defend her actions further would convince them that what they just witnessed is indeed what it looked like.

She waves goodbye and heads for the locker room, hoping that what took place on the court stays there. The excitement of getting naked with Adam tempers much of her concern—she can hardly wait to get him back to her house. They haven't made love since June. Now, with Vincent at work and Gary and Erika gone, she can pursue her ravenous desire. "And this time there won't be a pair of green sweats and underwear lying around to incriminate me," Rene says while behind the wheel.

Once home, she suggests they take Gary's room. Here is where they made love for the first time. And here is where Gary had confronted Adam with his suspicions that he and his mom were more than just friends. Adam's vehement denials did little to allay those suspicions. No matter, he and Rene can hardly get their clothes off fast enough. "I thought the summer would never end," she says as they climb under the white, freshly washed sheets. She brushes her fingers through her dark brown hair, longer than it was three months ago and styled the way she once wore it in college, a couple inches below her shoulders and parted in the middle. "Vinnie isn't real pleased with my new doo," she tells Adam. "He calls me a middle-age teen wannabe."

He pulls her close to him and kisses her firm, B-cup sized boobs. Then he says, "Well, I like it. If what he says is true, you're the prettiest, sexiest middle-age teen wannabe I've ever seen."

"And you're the funniest, best looking community college student I know," she responds as she clasps her knees around his cock, so hard and erect, it reminds her of a banana. "You know I'm falling in love with you, don't you?"

"So you once told me," he says, kissing her on the mouth and once again tasting the tangy-sweet aroma of her white gloss lipstick. "I didn't believe it then. But I do now, and want you to know I'm falling for you in the same way."

Briefly, Rene's ideas of making a life with Adam pop into her head. But only briefly, for she soon loses herself in her passion and in the arms of this young man whom she once held in such contempt, a regrettable thing that since last April she's tried to erase as if it never happened. "God, I missed you so, welcome back," she whispers, holding and kissing him, and then collapsing on her back to let Adam work wonders with his tongue. Her present concerns—where she's ultimately going with this, Gary's suspicions, etc.—melt away as she enters the realm of pure sensate pleasure, unabashed and uninhibited. This now is her little corner of the world, one filled with Adam's head between her legs, his tongue swishing over her hot cunt, gushing forth waves of liquid she didn't know her mid-forties self could produce. She gave this up for the summer; she's not sure she could give it up for longer. "Make love to me, Adam," she pleads. "Show me how much you care for me."

Not waiting for him to slip his firm, athletic body between her legs, she asks him to take bottom, and then eases herself down onto his cock. "Vinnie used to love it when we did it this way," she says, then rolls her eyes. "Used to. With him, everything is used to."

"Not with us," Adam says, holding her around her waist and lifting her for added thrust. "We're happening now."

"We're happening now is right!" She closes her eyes, hearing little else but the dull hum of the AC and the slapping of skin on skin, hers and his. Breathing heavily, she says, "Goodness, Adam, words alone could never do justice to how much I love your cock."

He makes a mock frown. "I thought you loved ME. Or, were at least starting to."

She opens her eyes, leans over and kisses him. "I am. Just never get tired of fucking me, okay? It's men's nature to tire of the same partner over time."

Harder and faster, he thrusts his pelvis into her. "Are you kidding? I can't get enough of you."

"That's my baby." Once again, she shuts her eyes, savoring the deliciousness of feeling like the young woman she used to be, her entire being ablaze with desire and excitement. "Oooo, honey, I can't get enough of you either," she cries, leaning on her hands while her lower half picks up steam, accelerating toward Bethlehem. "Almost there, Adam, almost there. Yes! Yes! Oh my, ohmygod, yes!"

They climax in a harmonious crescendo of oos and ahhs, their bodies drenched in sweat. Rene collapses in Adam's arms, breathing in the sweet smell of sex that permeates the bed sheets and fills the room. She fights the urge to fall asleep. All she needs is for Vincent to come home and catch her naked in the arms of her nineteen-year old neighbor. "As much as I'd love for you to stay with me, I guess you should be getting along."

He nods, leans in and kisses her. "It's not easy saying goodbye to you anymore. I wish we could spend at least one night together, maybe at some cozy bed and breakfast with a fireplace. Would you like that?" He sees her look away and wipe her eyes. "Are you crying?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Okay, yes, because I'd love that. But I can't and you know why."

She's so tempted to broach the subject of leaving her marriage. But she can't, she just can't. Now is not the time or the place. Anyway, in her more rational moments, she doubts that time will ever come.

After throwing on a robe, she kisses Adam at the door before seeing him off. Quickly, she dresses, tosses the sheets on Gary's bed in the laundry and then mixes herself a bloody Mary. She sits in the "breakfast room," an addition they put onto the kitchen a few years ago. The late afternoon light streams through the wooden shutters while she sits at her round, glass-topped table sipping her drink, trying to make sense of it all. She's a middle-age woman so hot for her son's friend that she's thinking of leaving her husband. Is she crazy or what? She begins to laugh at the absurdity, the disconnect between her youthful dreams of the ideal life and her dreams today of leaving that life. She marries the successful doctor, buys the nice house in the burbs, joins the country club, has the two wonderful kids who haven't given her five minutes worth of grief. For years, she's happy, genuinely happy. Then she cruises into middle-age with an aging husband, ignoring a nagging boredom and sexual/emotional needs that go unfulfilled. Still, she soldiers on. After all, it's an envious life for many women who don't have to work, who, like her, do volunteer work and live the life of leisure, mall shopping and mingling around pools and tennis courts while their husbands bring home the bacon. Then she hooks up with a most unlikely individual—Adam Naylor, who makes her feel twenty years younger, who seems to desire her as much as she him, and her mind goes topsy-turvy.

As she sips her drink, she shoves her hand up her housedress and strokes her pussy, gets wet all over again. My goodness, she can't get enough of him! She strokes harder, spreads her legs, then slips her hand inside her panties. "Ohmygod, I'm gonna come again, gonna climax right here at the table," she whispers. No vibrator this time, just her fingers and her imagination, though one based on reality. "Damn it! What am I going to do?"

*********

One thing that Vincent Sutcliff never stopped doing was greeting Rene with a kiss when he arrived home from work. If he was remiss in other ways, he continued that little ritual that began when they were first married. Rene still appreciates it, even though it's become more ritualized over the years, something done more out of habit than feeling.

Days after her tryst with Adam, she greets Vincent at the door, expecting him to kiss her. He does, but she senses something isn't right. Vincent might be aloof at times, but never cold, apprehensive. "Have you changed your mind about going out?" she asks. They have reservations at Sabatino's, their go-to place for Italian food.

Vincent loosens his tie and throws his lightweight, tan sports coat on the sofa. "No."

She stares at his face, uncomprehending. "Okay, then, I'll get ready."

"I played golf at the club today," he says, ignoring her comment. He then eases himself onto the arm of the sofa.

"And your putter broke." She forces a smile, hoping he'll lighten up.

He winces and continues. "I played golf today with Freddie Sanborn who told me something that Leroy Gammerman told him."

Rene feels a flutter in her solar plexus. "And what was that?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you took Adam Naylor to the club again?" He folds his arms against his chest.

She snaps her head sideways as if he had just slapped her. "I didn't think it was all that important, Vinnie."

"Really? And I guess you wouldn't have told me about taking Adam when I saw you two cozying up over drinks in the dining hall a few months back."

"Probably not. And I'm not sure what you're implying by cozying up. Ruth had taken sick and I wanted someone to play with. What are you getting at? Do tell what Leroy told Freddie that's put you in such a weird mood?"

"Something about you and Adam going at it on the court, kissing like two sexed-up teenagers. Do you confirm or deny?"

Suddenly her living room feels like a dank cellar; the air between them fouled and poisoned. "Leroy took what was nothing more than a little motherly affection and blew it way out of proportion."

He cracks a bemused smile. "The last time I looked, Adam had a mother."

"She doesn't play tennis."

"No, and I'm sure she doesn't kiss him with the sort of romantic fire that you and Adam displayed on that tennis court."

She gropes for ideas to appease him as a creeping dizziness takes hold. "Leroy exaggerated what was nothing more than what I just said. You don't know, you weren't there."

Seconds of tense silence pass as she meets his cold stare with one of her own. In their twenty-odd years of marriage, she can't recall ever having a confrontation like this. Then again, up until now, she had never done anything that would have forced such a confrontation.

He sighs and shakes his head. "You're right, I wasn't. And I'm not about to play Othello to your Desdemona."

"You're not dark enough."

His face remains impassive. Ignoring her stab at humor, he continues. "But something hasn't been right since Gary returned home from school last semester. He seemed upset about something. Didn't you notice?"

She shrugs. "He seemed okay to me, especially after he met that girl."

"I'm talking about before that. 'I've got a lot on my mind,' is what he said when I asked what was wrong. When I pressed him further, he said something about finding Adam's clothing in his dresser drawer and left it at that."

"Yes, he asked me about that too, wanted to know how Adam's sweat pants and underwear got there. I didn't know what to tell him. I mean, how should I know?" The room starts to spin. "Vinnie, are we still going out? Either way, I need to sit down." She plops down on her black Eames-style lounge chair opposite him and puts her head between her legs, wrapped in tight white slacks. Trying to cover her multiple lies is hard work.

His face takes on the professional facade of the physician he is. "Are you okay? You're looking awfully pale, like you're about to faint."

"Just a little dizzy." She shakes her head. Slowly, she sits up and then leans back in the chair. "Can I ask you something, Vinnie?" He nods. "Did you ever go through midlife crisis? I can't recall if you did or not."

"I had my moments, nothing serious. Why? Is that what you've been going through? It might explain why you haven't exactly been yourself either for the past few months." He pauses. Then: "Does Adam figure into this somehow?"

She takes a deep breath. "Perhaps, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Look, Vinnie, we wouldn't be having this discussion if you paid more attention to me, if we made love like we used to, if you didn't all but ignore me when I come on to you, which isn't often nowadays given your lack of interest."

"We made love two weeks ago if I recall."

"It was three weeks ago, and I had to practically beg you for that."

He sits on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as if he's warming them. "Rene, you're a beautiful women, I never lost sight of that. I love you. But you should know by now that I don't perform like I used to and that I'm not too keen on taking Viagra. But if that's what you'd like, if you're that starved for attention..." He grunts. "Jesus, Rene, there's always your vibrator. You must keep it around for some reason."

"I need more than just a vibrator," she snaps, seized by a flash of anger. "I need someone who loves me in the passionate way you used to, someone who's physical and emotional needs are simpatico with mine, someone who can't wait to see me, who can't stand the thought of leaving me, someone who gives more than just a token listen to my concerns."

Slowly, he nods his head. "I see. And do you have a specific Prince Charming in mind? It wouldn't be Adam Naylor would it, a kid you once called a dullard among other choice names. If so, I know a good psychiatrist you might want to see."