His cock was again fully extended. She beckoned him with her finger and after some stumbling—he was well out of practice—he had the condom on and was atop her and lowering himself and letting her guide him into her. He slowly entered and it was the most physically enjoyable moment he had experienced in many years. Perhaps ever.
The two found a rhythm and were soon grunting like the newly-emancipated teens they had been before that first kiss months before in Grand Central, when Eileen had gone for her train.
For Eileen, there was no doubt. This was the most pleasing experience she had ever had. This man filled her as he brought her to a mind-numbing orgasm, with him soon following as he burst inside of her and then collapsed atop her for a few seconds before rolling off of her and onto his right side.
“Oh my fucking god” were the first words that came from her, as she stared at the ceiling. He was spent, out of practice there as well, and watched her get up and head to the bathroom—overwhelmed now by his view of her receding ass—and then dropped his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.
Before she came back, he jumped up and removed and secured the condom and grabbed a shirt from his closet and tossed it to her when she walked back in.
“Done already?” she teased.
“I am old and out of practice so, and I really hate to say this, I think I at least need a brief timeout. Let’s get something to eat. My yard is pretty big, but—”
She took the hint and put the shirt on, and it covered her up, just, and then he followed her, he having put on a robe, downstairs. He felt a bit guilty taking the robe for himself but worn-out as he was, he couldn’t resist seeing her in his now never-to-be-washed-again shirts, knowing what was beneath it.
When they got to the kitchen, Eileen filled two glasses of water while Tom threw two slices of day-old pizza into the microwave. They were thirsty and hungry and it did not matter what they drank and ate. After Tom took a gulp from the water glass Eileen handed to him, he said, “that was fun” and she smiled in response and said, “Yeah that was fun.”
Tom thought about it for a while and he knew it was time. Reaching over to his left hand with his right he said, “Eileen, I need your help with something.”
“Anything Tommy.” He noticed the name, one only kids from the neighborhood still used, when he visited his folks in Boston. He liked it when she used it now. Much more than when Jimmy Dolan said it when they were kids.
“I need help removing this,” and he lifted his left hand with his, Wendy’s, band on. Eileen suspected that he could have done it himself, but did not voice that because it did seem that he actually did need help in getting it off. They did not need to speak of the symbolism of it, only of the practicalities. As the microwave signaled that the pizza was ready, she grabbed a bar of butter and squished it around the ring and in three tugs was able to get it past the knuckle and off. She handed it, reverently, to him and he thanked her. After he delicately cleaned it, he disappeared, telling her when he got back that he had put it in the drawer of one of the bedside tables, that he hadn’t taken it off since his wedding. After an exchange of “I love you”s, they each cut up and devoured their pizza, with Tom getting a second slice for himself, although Eileen got a fair portion of that one too.
Eileen, feeling more alive than she perhaps ever had, turned and walked out of the kitchen, not before calling back to him and asking whether he might be able to find something to eat upstairs and then, with a giggle, ran up the steps, reaching the bed a moment or two before a now-panting Tom could catch her. Eileen was sweet and inexperienced but she was not na? ve—she knew how to use a computer—and any earlier hesitancy evaporated and her earlier desire exploded over the next hours, after which they both fell into restful sleeps until being awakened by Eileen’s phone and Kerry wanting to know what was going on and Kerry silenced when her Mom told her.
Andrea
“Dad, you do realize that the hospital and the law school are like five zip codes from one another and that doctors hate lawyers and lawyers hate doctors so, no, I’m pretty sure I haven’t met my future stepsister. I assume we’ll both be at the wedding.”
This was Andrea Doyle on the phone reacting to her father’s telling her that, yes, he had fallen in love with the woman he’d been seeing and that she had a daughter who attended Columbia Law School. Her father had given her brief updates since he met Eileen, but now he dropped the big one.
Andi, as she was universally known—when not “Dr. Doyle”—had not heard him sound so happy, and she hadn’t been so happy for her father, since, well, long before her mom died. She had begun to fear that it was a sound she’d never hear again but had begun hoping otherwise as she got her weekly dose of Eileen News. She thought it was very cute, this whole role-reversal, giddy-father thing. She knew he spoke to her in a way that few fathers spoke to their daughters because since her mom’s death she had become the feminine voice he liked to hear.