The Lone Diner

I had always secretly lusted after Melissa's roommate, so I had not minded. I also thought at the time and even more so in retrospect that Melissa and her roommate had set up the whole thing. Melissa left me for Steve shortly after that. I shacked up with her roommate, a little wench named Jane, but it wasn't the same. Now what was Steve's last name? Oh yeah. It was Russo. Steve Russo. I had been so jealous at the time.

Mary emerged from the bathroom, having wrapped her luscious body in a towel. She stood before me, dropped the towel, played with her boobs, and climbed into my bed with me. She played with my previously flaccid but now growing cock, and she said, "You never asked my last name."

"Is it Bianchi?" I asked.

Mary blushed bright red. "Guess again," she said.

"Is it Russo?" I asked.

"You win the prize!" Mary said.

"What's the prize?" I asked.

"My body, any way you want it."

"Even though in theory you could be my daughter?" I asked. I still thought, and hoped, Steve was her father.

"Especially, Mark Green," she said, and she jumped on the bed, spread her legs, and began to play with herself.

"Mary, when is your birthday?" I asked.

"January 20. I'm in the Age of Aquarius. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," I said, beginning to panic. "Any chance you were a premature baby?"

"No way. I was the heaviest baby born that day! Funny, too, since now that I'm fully grown and forty years old, I'm a rather petite woman."

Jesus. Unless Melissa cheated with someone else, I suppose a possibility, that meant I was her father. Now I was in full throttle panic mode.

"Why do you ask? You going to send me a birthday card next winter or something?"

"Something like that. Maybe you'll enjoy a birthday fuck?" I said, trying to hide my alarm.

"Maybe I would at that!" Mary said, beginning to giggle. Mary began to play with herself. I took the hint. In for a dime, in for a dollar, I thought.

"How is your Mom?" I asked, as we were fucking and she was once again moaning away. I began to play with her boobs as I fucked her.

"I'm sure she's horny. I'm sure she would love to see you again. Just remember, Mark Green, you're mine. And don't worry, it's Steve Russo who is my father," she said and she groaned as I thrust into her particularly hard. "Probably he is, anyway, according to Mom," she added, smiling. Her smile became an expression of startle in reaction to my furious fusillade of strong, powerful fucks, one coming after the other almost in a blur.

"To be honest," Mary said, "Mom told me once, after I was grown, that my biological father was a toss-up between Steve Russo and a man named Mark Green. I guess that man is you." It took a while for Mary to get that whole sentence out, since she kept punctuating it with moans as I fucked her silly.

After we had both cum yet again, we lay around for some much-needed pillow talk. All that nonsense about being hunted and in mortal danger was just that, nonsense. Mary had decided she wanted to try me out. She had some crazy idea she would be able to tell if I were her father by the way I fucked. At the beginning, she was certain I was not her father. It just seemed too impossible to be true.

"DNA tests are more convincing than is fucking technique," I said.

"Mom described to me in detail how you used to fuck her. You have not lost your magic in the bedroom, you know," she said.

"You should see me lakeside sometime," I said.

"I'd love to do it with you outdoors, by a lake. Let's make it a date. You know, my Mom has good taste in men. You can really fuck, Mark Green."

"And yet, she dumped me for Steve," I said.

"Steve is a great fuck, too. It wasn't Mom who taught me to fuck like this, you know."

I did not see that last one coming. Mary looked at my face and burst out laughing. "Don't worry, Mark. I never fucked Steve. That would have been too weird. I'll bet my Mom would have fucked her own Dad, though, given the chance. My mother loved to fuck!"

"Loved?" I asked. I got alarmed by Mary's use of the past tense. When you're sixty some of your friends begin to die. The longer you live, the more death of your friends surrounds you, constantly reminding you of your own mortality, and narrowing your world.

"Steve died. Iraq. Fifteen years ago when I was 25. Mom's all alone," Mary said. "She's still pretty, you know, especially for a woman of sixty years. She still has a great figure. Also, she still speaks of you from time to time, you know. Do you want her number?" Mary asked, as she took a gold band out of her purse and slipped it on the ring finger of left hand.

"This was fun, it really was, but you belong to my Mom. I have to return to my husband now. I'm so glad I found you, Mark Green. Mom is right. You gave me my best sex ever! I'll never forget you, especially if you become my step Dad."

"If I became your step Dad, would you still want to sleep with me from time to time?"

Mary looked coy. "With you, Mark, it's a waste if a girl sleeps. You said so yourself. Next time, I'll bring Viagra. Trust me, you'll need it. Maybe even you'll knock me up. I'd love to be a mother. My husband is a great man, but he is a mediocre lover and he has a low sperm count to boot. He must never know you are the father, though. He needs to think he got lucky."

"Now I really should go," she continued. "My husband Kasper is always worried I cheat on him, can you imagine? Some men are just naturally suspicious. Fortunately, he has other wonderful properties. I married well. He's out of town this weekend. He was supposed to leave earlier, but his flight got cancelled, and that's why I did not show up for our first dinner date."

"Aren't you even a little worried you just fucked your biological father? What would that imply if you got pregnant by me?" I asked.

Mary laughed. "Steve Russo was my father. My mother loves you, but that does not make you my father, even if she likes to fantasize you might be. It is pretty sexy to think I might have just fallen in love and in lust for my own Dad, and let you fuck me silly, but I know Steve is my Dad. Sorry to disappoint."

"Okay. I'm glad you have a good marriage," I said, with a little irony lacing my voice I'm sure, as I watched Mary slither into her red dress. "What's your name?"

"My full name?"

"Yes."

Mary was at the door, poised to leave, as she said, "Call my Mom. She'd love to hear from you. My name is Mary Green Russo Sorensen. Sorensen is my husband's name. Mom added the name Green. It always got my Dad mad. I always wondered why she added the Green. Now I know. She never got over you, you know. She told me Steve made a better Dad than you could ever be. But if you're my Dad, you're great! Bye, Dad, love ya," she called out, as she closed the door. Nothing like dropping a bomb of a tease as you leave, I thought.

I was still naked but I ran to the door and flung it open. She was already gone. She was in the wind. I stood at the picture window looking down and out into the street. I saw her wiggling down the sidewalk. She turned to look up at my window, and she saw me standing there, watching her. She waved. She giggled as she saw my cock stiffen at the sight of her. Then she quickly wiggled away down the sidewalk.

I sank into my armchair. I had a lot to think about. Given when she was born, I was almost certainly her father. Melissa and I had sex every day but one day a full month before the lakeside girlfriend swap we had especially wild sex. Melissa later cursed and when I asked she told me she had forgotten to use her diaphragm, meaning the sex was unprotected. I was upset, but I figured we'd be lucky.

A month later came the lakeside swap. Maybe Melissa knew she was pregnant, and figured (correctly, no doubt) that Steve would be a better father than I would be when I was only twenty. I was not mature enough to be a father back then. She must have lied to Steve and told him the baby was his. That's why the sex at the lakeside was both impromptu and unprotected and Melissa seemed not to worry about that just then. She knew the only risk was not being able to seduce Steve. As it turned out, that was not even close to being a problem. I wish Melissa had given me a chance. C'est la vie, I thought.

Now I had to deal with the fact that I had fallen for my own daughter, who had given me the best, wildest sex in forty years, the best since I had enjoyed even wilder sex with her mother. Jesus.

Later that morning, now dressed and with three glasses of WhistlePig whiskey in my stomach and rapidly entering my bloodstream, giving me the liquid courage I needed, I grabbed a phone. Mary's scrawl was barely legible, but I could make it out. I punched in the number. When Melissa answered, memories flooded my brain.

"Hello? ... Hello? ... Mark is that you? Mary said you might call me. Please answer... Please say something."

I still loved that voice. I still loved the woman who owned that voice. All these years, and my love had never left, nor even cooled. I knew that now, and the realization was overwhelming.

"When can I see you, Pussycat?" I managed to say. It was as if we were both twenty years old again, time had stopped for forty years, and now was starting again.

"Now is good. Does now work for you?" she said. "I'll text you my address. Do you still like pancakes? I have maple syrup from Vermont. I still cook them in only an apron and otherwise in the nude, you know."

"Now is perfect," I replied. "I'll need twenty minutes to get there."

Melissa giggled. "You might need more than twenty minutes once you're here," she said, and she giggled again.

"I'm on my way," I said, already thinking of watching Melissa cook pancakes again. It had been a long time. It had been forty years. I love pancakes, especially with maple syrup. Melissa always served them with maple syrup while bouncing up and down on my lap. Melissa was right, since it did take more than twenty minutes to finish brunch when Melissa served me pancakes in her inimitable style.

I grabbed a bottle of good champagne to use for the mimosas and I found myself almost running to the subway station. You would, too, if a woman like Melissa was waiting for you. Anyone would.