Quixotic Rapprochement

Finally, breaking through my mortification, I said, "I've ruined you're lovely dress." I rushed on and offered, "I'll be happy to pay for another one," even though I had no idea what such a lovely garment might cost.

"You'll do no such thing," she said. Finally, looking down and away from my eyes to observe what had my attention, she continued, "This old thing can easily be cleaned." Her gaze returning to mine, she asked "Where are you off to in such a rush? Will you be graduating at the end of the semester?"

"I feel terrible about running into you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm not a fragile old woman -"

I cut her off quickly trying to avoid any slight, "Oh, I never meant anything like that. I just would never have - I'm sorry," I said, casting my eyes downward.

When she moved to step back onto the sidewalk, I noticed that there was a hitch in her step. I couldn't quite figure out what I was feeling. There were jitters in my stomach, a knot in my throat, and inexplicably a wet warmth on my cheeks. She was the injured party, but I was the one feeling pained.

"Paul? What's the matter? Paul?"

"I've injured you and ruined your dress. It's the last thing in the world I would have wanted. Where were you headed, please, let me carry these for you," I said instinctively moving to her.

"Don't be silly, give me those," she said reaching for the stack. "Oh, ouch," she said taking a step back.

"Please, lean on me. I'll take you to the campus infirmary."

"I'm fine, I just need to - oowww."

"Please, let me help, I'm so very sorry."

Finally, she relented and she took my arm to lean on as she walked limpingly across the remaining distance to the infirmary. Inside they were apparently having an idle day, so they took her right in to get checked out while I waited. When she was released, about half an hour later, I was there waiting with her books and papers. I apologized profusely again several times, all of which she dismissed.

"Should I call your husband to come and fetch you?" I asked near the exit doors.

"Non, il capte trois fois rien! Il a me quitté," she said, a little angrily.

In my excited and confused state I asked, "He's dead?"

I'd caught the 'he knows nothing' or more accurately 'three times nothing', but inexplicably, I'd misunderstood the last part and was instantly ashamed that my French had gotten so poor in under a year's time.

"No, sorry he's just left me. It's a long sad story and I shan't bore you with it."

"Well, at least allow me to drive you home."

"Okay, young man, I will," she yielded.

I walked her outside with her leaning less upon me than before. I helped her to sit upon a bench beneath a big old white elm tree that was leafing out.

"You stay here, I'll pull my truck around."

She waited outside in the beautiful spring weather, while I went with her things to residents parking to get my vehicle and back to retrieve her. I parked as close to the bench as I could, and then got out to assist her to the truck.

"You're limping a little less now," I commented as I helped her into the seat of my old Datsun.

"Oh, yes, it's feeling much better. I shall be perfectly fine in no time at all."

I closed the door, walked around, hopped in the driver seat, started the truck and clutched into first gear. "You'll have to direct me to your home."

I drove as she navigated me down the main drag and then into her neighborhood which was not far from campus. It was a much higher end area than I'd expected. I found it absolutely splendid, especially the views, since many of the properties backed right up against Union Bay. That included hers, I discovered as she guided me into her driveway. Her house surpassed the impressiveness of many around it and had a majestic Alaskan Cedar in the wedge between the walk and driveway. I hopped out and moved quickly around to her door, so I could help her down. She already had the door open and took my aid from the seat, up the sidewalk and steps to her door, although she was only loosely holding my arm. When we got to the porch, I opened and held the storm door for her as she got the keys from her purse.

"Please come in," she said after opening her door. I followed her in and stayed by her side until she seated herself safely on the living room sofa.

"Let me retrieve your books and papers and I'll be right back," I said and quickly dashed back out to gather her belongings.

It'd all happened so quickly, I hadn't had time to process where I was or how I was feeling other than sad regret. Back inside her lavish home, I placed the stack of books and papers on a straight back chair beside a beautiful cherry drop-leaf table by the front window. On the far end of the table in a frame, that was certainly gold-leaf and ebony stood the sketch I'd made of her just over a year ago with the signature clearly visible. On the end closest to me, there was a spot on the tabletop that was distinctly lighter and in the shape of one of those hinged picture frame clusters. In an instant, I realized that it must have been removed recently, the sun's darkening effects not having had time to change the spot.

Another pang of guilt washed over me and the words came tumbling out as I went to her, "I'm so very sorry I injured you and sorrier still that you have no one at home to help you out."

"You sweet child, I'm done with him. He's off to procreate with someone that can."

I knew she wasn't insulting me, but being called 'child' felt odd. At the same time, her words piqued my curiosity and I couldn't restrain my question, "I don't mean to pry, but are you saying he left you because you can't have children?"

"Yes, Paul, we've been trying for many years now," she said pausing. "We've both undergone treatments but we both have issues. Regardless, I'm done with all that; c'est fini! The old fool is over fifty, but feels he needed heirs to be a man. He'll be off to take a new professorship in Florida with his twenty year old secretary beneath him by June," she said with a sardonic tone.

I could feel my mouth ajar; she was simply too lovely and gentle a soul to have been abandoned this way. "What an idiot," I said feeling the words tumble from my lips.

That comment didn't end the discussion uncomfortably, instead, we chatted for a couple of hours. We talked about ourselves and made small talk. I found out that her accent wasn't an affect, she was actually born in France and came to this country at age thirteen. I talked about my internship/job and upcoming graduation until it was late in the afternoon. Several times during the interaction, Emma's coaching had me considering asking her out but the timing never seemed quite right. There was also that thought I couldn't shake - she thought of me as a child. I was physically and emotionally attracted to her, but somehow she still held that 'unattainable - out of my reach' quality. As afternoon became evening, I asked her if I could make her some dinner but she insisted she'd be fine and by that time, she was walking around with almost no noticeable limp, so I bid her good evening and left to go back to the dorm.

I called work the next day to tell them what'd happened and they were all right with the missed day. They were very happy to hear I'd taken care of the incident so responsibly. I hadn't really thought about it that way, but I guess in a certain light maybe they were correct.

Over the next few days, I thought about her and her recovery. I dropped by the French department a few times, but never ran into her.

On my fourth appearance, her personal secretary there informed me that, "Yes, Professor Soliel is doing fine; I'll let her know you've been by to check on her."

Her voice had an odd tone, and I couldn't quite tell what it implied. I knew she was the department head, and therefore important and busy, but there was an annoyed or perhaps disapproving quality to the way she'd spoken to me. As I left, I felt that at least I knew she was better and that raised my spirits. We weren't especially close, it'd been a platonic relationship by any measure even with the flirtatiousness I'd felt from her and my unrequited feelings for her. So, I went on with my daily routine as the end of the semester approached.

I got a care package from Emma with some money, cookies and a book for graduation. As I pulled the book from the brown paper wrapping it was a glossy hardcover copy of 'The Bridge Across Forever', by Richard Bach. That night I started reading it and found myself in love with the concept of finding my soulmate. It had me thinking about her upon several occasions with my recent encounter with Professor Soliel so freshly in my mind. With the exception of their hairstyles, the two of them were like twins separated by time.

The last week of my senior year, I was invited to a party for top students being held at the chancellor's house. It was a semi-formal dress code and we were allowed to bring dates, I simply didn't have anyone to bring. I arranged to be off the Friday of the party and when the evening arrived, I put on the very best work clothes I owned. I had a white shirt, a thin black tie, navy pants with a matching jacket, a black belt and some black wingtip shoes.

I arrived just a little late, fifteen minutes or so, and there was already quite a crowd assembled. They were having the party outside, with the backdrop of the bay, in the perfect late spring weather. There was a large covered pavilion in case there was some notorious Seattle rain, but luck was with them this year and things were idyllic.

There wasn't any dinner, but there were plenty of hor d'oeuvres, an open bar and live music for dancing. I mixed and mingled with my fellow graduating classmates, university board members and quite a few department heads. I'd kept my eye open for Mme Soliel and had given up hope on seeing her, when she found me.

"Bonsoir, Paul."

"Bonsoir, Madame Soliel."

"Please, Paul, call me Joy."

"Okay, Joy. I'm very happy to see you are doing better," I offered and then realized she was leaning in to give me a hug.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing me tightly.

That was followed abruptly and surprisingly by a kiss on each cheek. I was frozen in place momentarily, probably in shock. She was wearing a most lovely white dress, very similar to the one I believed I'd ruined. This one hugged her torso all the way to her waist and it flowed outward from there. She wore a pair of matching high heels but apparently no stockings. I realized I was staring again as I appraised her looking slowly up her body until I reached her face. She was blushing even more profusely than she had that afternoon on the quad.

"You certainly know how to make a woman feel appreciated," she said gently touching my shoulder.

"I - I didn't mean to stare, you're beautiful."

"It's quite alright; you're eyes already told me that," she said in a playful tone. "Where's your date?"

"I don't have one," I said a little dejected.

"We'll have to stick together then."

What followed was the most enchanting evening I had ever experienced. Joy never left my side for the rest of that evening. We ate, drank, chatted and danced together. She was a joy to be with in every sense of the word her name carried. Her mood seemed much better tonight and we enjoyed each other's company right through to the party winding down. By that time, we had had our share of drinks and I could tell that we were both a little tipsy.

When the band finished playing and guests started leaving, Joy said, "Instead of you driving, why don't we just walk to my home. It's only a few blocks from here and I have a guest room."

"What about your hip?"

"Really, I'm fine, stop worrying over such a trifle. The bruise was gone in a week and I walked here tonight."

Looking at her shoes, I asked, "In those?"

"I'm really not an old lady, Paul."

Somehow, I'd made her think that again, "I didn't mean any offense; they don't look like shoes for walking."

"So, it's settled?"

"Sure, but it's your turn to lead," I said playfully.

With that, we set out from the party arm in arm and arrived at her home in about ten minutes. The walk had been significantly shorter than I'd even expected, and we arrived abruptly. Well, it felt abrupt, because I didn't recognize her place in the darkened, dimly lit, private street. So when she'd turned in front of me to walk up her sidewalk, I'd kept walking. Inadvertently, I had run my hand across her ample bosom. It had been an accident, but I couldn't help realize her nipple was extremely erect when I'd made contact. They had been in various stages of excitement the whole evening, but the actual brief contact made me aware of just how excited she appeared to be, now outside her home.

She had simply said, "C'est moi. This is me."

At the top of the steps, she fumbled with her purse to locate the keys, "I should have left the porch light on."

I popped out and thumbed the igniter on my gold lighter, the high school graduation gift from my uncle, and held it so she could see. "Does this help?" I asked.

"Yes, thanks."

What I noticed in the flickering light was that her dark nipples were still very erect and somehow this lighting emphasized their pertness. We'd danced several times tonight, but only now was I finding myself becoming fully erect. Soon, she had the door open, the inside light on and was inviting me into her home again.

"Please come in, Paul."

"You sure it'll be okay for me to stay here tonight?"

"Just consider it repayment for your kind assistance the other day."

"It was the least I could do," I said softly.

I followed her inside and she closed the door behind me. Once inside I noticed there were more items missing from her formal living room and I presumed that her husband had returned to take the remainder of his belongings. She noted me looking around.

"Yes, he came to remove the last of his things some weeks ago. Our divorce is final, that's where I've been the last few weeks. It's been a terrible mess. He was trying to just have it annulled but I didn't want that."

"How long had you been together?"

"Fifteen years. We were married shortly after I took a position at the university here."

I quickly tried to re-estimate her age, since I was such a terrible judge of it, and realized she was probably in her mid to late forties. My earlier thinking, that she was about my mother's age, had been a terrible disservice to her. Mama was approaching sixty so I'd been off by fifteen years. Although I couldn't be sure, I estimated Joy was probably only about five to ten years older than my sister Emma was. Mama had her when she was nineteen and they got married just before she was born.

"So he just wanted to split and not share what you'd built together."

"He was trying to protect the proceeds of his books. He's written several calculus text books, and the truth is I edited every one of them."

"You definitely should get some kind of remuneration for that."

I found myself in an embrace and I couldn't quite fathom what'd brought it on. She just kept repeating 'Paul' through the sobs. I returned her hug and rested my face upon her head. The scent of her hair was heavenly; there was an underlying rose smell, but there was another odor, more arousing and attractive to my senses. I could feel the blood rushing from my head into my groin.

Joy must have felt it pressing against her belly, because her sobs diminished and her hand shifted to grasp my member through my pants. I stood there holding her, stroking her back gently as she continued to grope me openly. My rigidness only increased as I felt her hand undo my zipper and reach inside. When she reached through my boxers and wrapped her fingers around my stiff cock, I was paralyzed.

There was a part of my reptilian brain that wanted what she was offering me freely. It desperately desired her and was eager to participate in anything she wished of me. However, the mammalian layer must have understood that she was too vulnerable and even a little intoxicated. I would comfort, protect and hold her dear, but her wounds were too recently opened to allow it to go further, at least tonight.

"Joy, it's going to get better. You're a beautiful woman," I whispered, as I continued patting her gently.

"Please, Paul, I need you."

"I want that more than you know Madame Soliel - Joy. We can't. Not now," I attempted to soothe her.

"Don't you find me attractive either?"

"Yes, with every fiber of my being, but I could never take advantage of this - this moment of sadness."

As if that were a cue, she slid her dress top downward. In the dimly lit room, I looked down to find my bra-less assessment was correct as I saw the side of her unencumbered breast pressed against me lightly. It transfixed me with its excited dark nipples and lovely fullness. Her left hand found my right hand and directed it to hold her bare breast. The digits of her right hand returned to my boxers and encircled me again. The soft warmth of her hand on me was agonizingly exhilarating.

"Do you not want me?" she breathed.

"Oh, God yes. I do, but -"

"Sweet boy - sorry - sweet young man, please," she asked almost begging.

"I will lie with you Joy, but we'll have to wait -"

"Yes, would you lie with me; be with me?" she interrupted me and began pulling me by the hand toward the hall.

I followed behind her with the top of her dress draped over the flowing part. At the doorway she turned back toward me and encouraged me to continue following. Her skin was like flawless white marble and her deep red rose-colored nipples were fully erect. I followed helplessly enchanted by her, my will faltering. She led me into a large darkened room, where I heard her high-heels thump against a piece of nearby furniture and presumed she'd kicked them off. Then I watched her outline bend to turn on a lamp beside her canopy top poster bed that came suddenly into view. It must have been a three-way bulb, because the second click made it the tiniest bit brighter and I could see her more clearly. Her breasts enticing me ever closer.

She released my hand and removed the dress entirely, lifting it over her head and tossing it on top of the shoes by an ornate blanket chest near the foot of the bed. Beneath her dress were only a pair of silky white panties with a clear section in the shape of a tulip that fully displayed hers beneath. She bent and those were removed as well. I found myself staring at her completely nude form. She was magnificent for any age. Her golden blond pubic area grabbed my attention immediately. It wasn't unkempt, like Emma's or Jenny's had been; it was full, but neatly trimmed and her flooded lips extended beyond the edge. My mind clicked off sketches that I might render later. To me this woman was worthy of the title princess.

She turned from me again to fold down the comforter and sheet of her bed and slid onto it invitingly. Once in she moved to the far side with her eyes agog. Her desperation for me to join her palpable, I simply couldn't reject her for fear it might crush any spirit that remained in her beyond repair.

My mouth finally formed the words I was thinking, "You are the most beautiful woman, Joy."

Her eyes seemed to dance with joy as I began removing my clothing. While I tossed each item in the floor beside hers, I kept my gaze upon her. In my daydream last spring, I don't think I could have imagined her being so lovely.

As I finished removing my clothes, she reached out to me, "Please, join me here."

I slid onto the bed beside her, fully nude. Her face came to mine and joined me in a blissful kiss. Our lips hungrily meeting and sucking at the others. Her feminine smell mixed with the taste of her in my mouth and it was intoxicating. The absurd thoughts I'd had about her last spring felt childish and simplistic when presented with the reality of her. Our hands roamed freely caressing each other gently over and over. My right hand found her left breast again and cupped it. Her hand reached for my manhood and stroked it gently.