Urban Renewal

We split the check and we were walking out the door when Nina suggested that we go to a dance club.

"They've got free Salsa lessons every Saturday night. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Have you been before," I asked.

"Never. I just think I would be fun if we were in a group."

Four of the people left and it was Nina and another man, Tim and me. I was tired, but I heard Carla's voice in my head telling me to join them. We drove the couple of miles to the club and found a table. I'm not a dancer and as soon as I saw the people on the dance floor, I started to get cold feet. The music started and Nina grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the floor. At first the two guys stayed at the table until Nina went and got them. There were a dozen of us out on the floor and the man with the microphone started to walk us through the steps. He came up to me and led me onto the center of the dance floor. After a few missteps he had me dancing back and forth with him. He kissed my hand and walked me back to Tim.

The music continued and we danced. I started dancing with Tim who obviously knew how to dance. We moved out to the center and for a few minutes all eyes were on us. At first I was self conscious but with Tim leading me I was very comfortable. Before I knew it was 2 AM and it was last call. Tim walked me to my car and I drove home.

I slept like the dead. It was ten o'clock when the phone woke me.

"Hello," I said. My throat was dry and I croaked out the greeting. Every muscle in my body ached.

"Well, you're alive." It was Carla. "I've been calling for hours."

"We stayed out late."

""I'll say. I called you all night. I was getting worried."

I told her about the day, the garden work, dinner, and dancing.

"So ...."

"So what?"

"So, I was right. It did you good to get out of the house."

"Well, right now I ache all over, I have a headache, and my mouth feels like a heard of mountain goats tapped danced all night. But, yes, you were right."

"Get your cute ass out of bed and I'll be there is a few minutes and I'll buy brunch and Mimosas and you can tell me everything."

The next weekend I was at the garden again, working the soil, adding manure and evening out the planting surfaces. There were a lot of people there, most from the neighborhood, and we worked together to get everything done. Tim was busy, directing groups on specifics of what needed to be done. He stopped a couple of times to check on me, brought me water, and a sandwich later in the morning. It was almost 5 pm when I brought my tools back to the shed and was walking back to the car.

"Emily," he called after me.

I turned and he jogged up to me. He looked nervous.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Um, no, no, not at all." He looked down at his boots and scuffed at the dirt. ""I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner?"

"The same group as last week?"

"Um, no, not really. Just me."

"You?"

"Yeah."

I felt my brow scrunch up. "Like a date?"

"Yeah. I mean if you want to. Or not a date, just two people going out to dinner. Together. If it's not too weird for you. I understand completely if you say no."

"Yes, I'd like that."

I went home and got in the shower and washed the dirt and grime and soreness from my muscles away with hot water and a loofah. I had to think when the last time I had been on a first date, more than two years, because I was never sure when Brad and I had started dating. We had run together in the same group, and things had just evolved. I pulled my hair back and put on some light makeup. I hadn't asked what level of dress to where and it took a while to find the right combination from the closet. I found a red silk top and a pair of black dress slacks with flats. I added the pearls my parents gave me for graduation. I checked out the look in the mirror and decided it was appropriate for anything but the most serious restaurant.

We had agreed to meet downtown on 4th Street. I parked the car and walked toward the restaurant. Someone called my name. I looked around but didn't see anyone and continued walking.

"So it's going to be like that?"

I turned and saw Brad walking toward me. It had been two months since I had left his apartment.

"I didn't know who was calling," I said.

He had stopped a few feet away from me. He looked different from when I had last seen him. Perhaps a little heavier, his hair was longer and slicked back on his head. He was dressed in slacks, a white dress shirt open at the collar, and a sport coat. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed to rock slightly on his feet.

"Like you didn't know who was calling when I left all those messages."

"Oh, I knew who had called," I said. My temples had started to pound and I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest.

"And you couldn't give me the decency of a call back?"

Carla always preaches that it is important to stay cool when stressed. It's a lesson that I have trouble remembering.

"No, because every time I picked up the phone, all I could see were images of your fuck buddy and remembering what she wanted you to do to her."

He started to respond, almost yelling, when Tim came running across the street toward us.

"Hey Emily, sorry I'm late."

He stopped next to me when he looked at Brad; Brad had stopped talking. Tim started to extend his hand to introduce himself, but I took it and lead him away. Brad stayed there on the street and did not follow us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt ..."

"Angry ex-boyfriend. You got here just in time."

We went to an Italian restaurant, City House, and were seated immediately. We started out with cocktails and I had a Kubric which has a Tennessee whiskey and pear brandy. Before I knew it, I was on my third and we had only started with our salads.

"Enough for me or otherwise you'll just be talking to someone with drool on their bib," I said. I slid the glass away from me."

"You're only young once," Tim said.

"That's what Carla tells me."

We talked about Carla and that she was the reason why I had signed up for the garden work. Tim talked about the garden and the journey that had gotten him there. His first wife had died when she was forty, and six months later he was involved with a woman fifteen years younger. He said that he was lonely, had no kids, and made a bad decision and they were married three months later.

"She ran around on me, but it took me ten years to figure it all out. The divorce was ugly, but the best thing, no the second best thing I've done. I got rid of her, and then decided that I needed to do something good for me, for the community other than worry about how much money I made each year. That's when I started getting the property for the gardens."

We opened a bottle of wine and I worked on tomato soup. I was eating and drinking like a lumber jack, and then realized I had worked in the garden all day. I figured I deserved it. Dinner was bread gnocchi and tomato ragu. It was delicious. The waiter, sensing that we liked to drink tried to bring sherry, but we shared a chocolate butterscotch panna cotta instead. I wanted to lick out the bowl, but decided that was poor behavior for a first date. Five hours after we walked into the restaurant we left and stood outside on the sidewalk.

"I had a good time," he said.

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. He made sure I was safe to drive home and he walked me to my car. He offered to call a cab, but I assured him that with all of the food and the time I was sober. The coffee with desert, although not sobering, certainly had me awake and alert and would certainly keep me awake.

"Call me when you get home."

I waved from the car and was home a few minutes later. I stood outside in the parking lot and looked up at the quarter moon. The night sky was clear, the air was crisp and fresh, and I felt better than I had in months. I called Tim, thanked him for the evening, and got into bed.

An hour later, I was still awake. I cursed the coffee. Or the evening. I thought about our conversation, dinner, holding Tim's hand. It was fun, and like I said the first first date I had had in a long time.

I'm not sure if it was because I was awake or because I was thinking about the evening, but I started to feel horny. It had been a long time; the last time had been with Brad. In that two months I felt so down, the thoughts never crossed my mind. I tried to ignore the feeling, and tossed and turned for another sleepless hour until I finally gave in.

I reached into my night side table and got my vibrator. I was wearing my soft flannel gown and I pulled it up around my waist. My fingers went to my left breast and I started making circles around my nipple, through the fabric, so the soft flannel lining caressed my skin. I pushed slight harder and started to flick my finger back and forth across my nipple and a gasp left my lips. It felt wonderful. I pinched at the nipple, taking it between my fingers and rolling it, gently at first, then harder, increasing the pressure in degrees, until an ache started in my chest and rushed to my pussy.

I turned on my vibrator and started to rub lightly against my lips. I removed the vibrator, brought it my mouth, and spit on it, covering it with saliva, and then I lowered it to my pussy again. The warm hum against the outer lips felt nice, and then I slid it into me, an inch at a time, and savored the fullness as it stretched me. I turned up the speed. I brought it up higher and let it touch my clit. The jolt was intense, I had not touched my clit in so long it was very sensitive, and I slid the wand against me, up and down as the vibrations stimulated me.

For me sex and masturbation are like riding a bicycle. It is all rhythms and patterns and pure magic and joy when it all works. I started to get a fullness deep in my cunt, and ache that needed to be filled and then suddenly a rush of warmth washed from me, from my cunt and spread all along my bottom and up into my chest. I threw my head back and arched my pelvis into the air. I tried to push my clit against the vibrator. I let out a groan like an animal guarding its food and collapsed into the softness of my bed. I was relaxed and exhausted. I turned off the vibrator and dropped it to the floor, too weak to even want to put it up. I pulled the covers to my neck and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The next weekend was Earth Day and the season opening of the gardens. Tim had an elaborate schedule planned and I signed up to help doing whatever needed to be done. The threatened rain never happened; it stayed cloudy until noon and then the sun filled the sky it became a great spring day. Tim got the Mayor to make an appearance and the band from the school played for a couple of hours. There were food trucks and face painters. People from the neighborhood were there signing up for their garden plots and staking out the space. He was busy all day, talking to the news crews that stopped by for a few minutes of footage, meeting with politicians who working the event. I took him water and handed him a sandwich at noon. It seemed like he never left a ten square foot area for the entire day.

By 4 PM the crowds were gone and the paper banners had seen a better day. A few helium filled balloons still tugged at their strings from poles set up in the garden. I helped him put up the tools and supplies and it was nearly 5:30 when we were done.

"Do you have plans for the evening," I asked. We leaned against the shed and drank the last two bottles of water.

"As a wise man once said 'Two Advils and a hot shower'."

"I think you said that," I said as I punched him in the arm.

"I said it was a wise man, didn't I?"

"I was going to go home and make dinner and just chill for the evening." I paused for a moment. "Would you like to come to my place for dinner?"

"Well, I would but ..."

"It's okay, sorry, shouldn't have been so forward."

Tim held up his hand to stop me.

"Well, I would, but I really need to take a shower and change my shoes. My feet are killing me."

I started to laugh. "I should have waited, right?"

"Yeah."

I gave him my address and stopped at a grocery store. I know how to cook three things, and the last time I checked my refrigerator and pantry, I didn't have the ingredients for any of them. I made a mental shopping list and nearly ran up one aisle and down the next, and threw produce and baked goods and cheese into the cart. I got home and started dinner while taking a shower between cooking sessions. For part of the preparation, I stood at my stove, my dark brown hair wrapped in a towel and my red microfiber robe cinched at the waist.

The bell rang and I slid on my shoes and ran to the door. I stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I opened the door.

"Wow!" Tim said.

I felt a flush run across me.

"I'm sorry. I just have to say it. I thought you were pretty. But you look gorgeous tonight."

"So, you're saying that I clean up pretty good."

He laughed and stepped into my apartment. He had a bouquet of daffodils and two bottles of wine. I put the flowers in a vase and chilled the bottle of Pinot Grigio. I opened the Shiraz and put the brie and crackers on a plate. We walked into the living room and drank the wine and ate the appetizer. He remembered that the news casts were on, and we channel surfed until we saw two of the spots shot earlier in the afternoon.

We ate dinner. I had assembled a pasta dish with pesto and ricotta smothered in a marinara sauce. We finished both bottles of wine and almost the entire loaf of whole wheat French bread. I was in the kitchen putting dishes in the sink when Tim came behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I turned and rested my hands on his waist.

I looked at him. He was tall, just a little over six feet and about a half a foot taller than me. His hair was gray and short. His light blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the kitchen light.

"How old are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, you're the one that has made the age statements. And then your second wife was younger than you."

"I'm 62. Does that bother you?"

I shook my head. "Age is just a number. I'm 35. Carla is 60 and she is my best friend. Some days I feel older than she acts."

"Carla is 60?"

"If you tell her that I told you, I'll hurt you. That's secret."

"Yes, but information is power. You never know when it might be needed."

"And what might you need?

"Maybe," he paused and smiled. "Maybe, I need you to kiss me."

"Oh really. Like this?"

I reached up and took his hand in my hands and pulled him toward me. His lips touched mine, warm and soft, wet and full. I closed my eyes and savored the embrace. He pulled back.

"Maybe," he said. "But maybe more urgent."

He took my face in his hands and turned his head. This time the kiss was harder, pressing, like time was running away. Our lips parted and I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and a jolt seemed to spark my tongue when it touched his. I took a breath, deep and fast, trying to catch my breath for just an instant. He broke away and I still felt the imprint of his lips on mine.

I leaned into him and felt the heat in his body. He felt and smelled good. It had been a long time since I had been held and touched and my body wanted more. I took his hand and lead him from the kitchen and into my bedroom. The night light from the bathroom cast a faint glow into the room. I stood in front of him and slipped his jacket off and tossed it onto the chair near the bed. Then his shirt was removed next. I ran my hands across his chest and savored the sensation of his flesh beneath my hands.

Tim reached behind me and unzipped my dress. I gave my shoulders a shake and it fell off me and puddled at my feet. I stood in front of him in my bra and bikini panties. He sat on the bed and grabbed my hips and pulled me closer. His tongue licked at my tummy and my navel and he nipped at my flesh. My pussy ached at his touch. I pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. My mouth and tongue and lips licked at his chest and nipped at his nipples. He groaned as I kept him pinned on the bed. I reached down and could feel his hard cock strain against his pants and I rubbed it with my hand. It could wait.

I scooted my body up until my ass rested on his chest.

"I want something," I said. My voice was low and deep in my throat. It was guttural. It didn't sound like me.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to eat me."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to eat my pussy."

Tim put his hands on my hips and slid me forward to his mouth. My pink cotton panties were all that separated me and his lips. He pushed his tongue against my panties, they quickly got wet with my juices and his spit, and he lapped against it. The sensation was intense, but strange. I could feel his tongue push against me, but there was the cushion of the fabric that blunted it. I rolled off of him and slid them off and moved to his face again. He shifted me slightly and my pussy was against his lips and I felt the wonderful sensation of his tongue against me. I lifted up on my knees slightly and reached forward and held his head in my hands. He probed me with his tongue, like a small piston, pulsing in and out of me, occasionally lapping forward and rubbing against my clit.

"Right there, right there. That feels so good."

He concentrated on that golden spot, where the nub of my clit peeked out and begged to be licked and kissed and sucked. And he did all three. The shock started fast and hard, from deep inside of me and it felt like scalding hot water was splashed onto my pussy and lips and onto my chest. I took deep breaths, trying to quench my hunger for air, and I held his head hard and rocked against him, grinding myself along his face until the waves leveled to a ripple.

I slid off his body and stood again, holding out to the bed to steady myself. I undid his belt and loosened his pants and pulled them off. His cock strained against his blue cotton briefs and I pulled them off too. I grabbed his cock and held it in my hand and felt it throb. There was no sense of foreplay, no teasing or cooing. I spit on his cock and stroked it. It was hard and thick and it felt good in my hand.

"I. Want. This."

I climbed on top of him again and rubbed his cock against my lips. I lowered myself, sliding the head into me, getting stretched by it as it filled me. It felt great. I pushed down, taking it into me until I was all the way onto it. I started to shift my hips, stretching myself, and then I lift up and pushed down hard.

"That feels great," he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper. "You're so tight."

"Fill me up. Fill up my cunt. Please. Please. I need this."

After a few minutes I had a rhythm and I rode him. He reached up and grabbed my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin fabric of my bra. The pleasure was too great and another orgasm wracked through me, making me convulse as I tried to ride him. I continue to move up and down, but it was if the last orgasm had short circuited my muscles and left me as an uncoordinated mess on top of him.

Tim took control and pushed me off of him. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and slid my ass to the edge of the bed.

"Put it in you," he said. His voice was thick. "Put my cock into your pussy."

I took him and put it against my lips and pulled it toward me. He slid forward and pushed in. He lifted my legs up and rested them on his shoulders as he rhythmically pounded in and out of me. I don't remember much of the pleasure other than I threw my head back and forth, savoring the sensation of his cock in my cunt. His pace quickened, he started thrusting deeper and he groaned as he slapped into me three, four, five times and filled my cunt with his cum.