Love Me... Love My Dogs

I wanted to run out and take her in my arms, caressing her until the goosebumps she wore had nothing to do with air temperature. I was thinking of all the other things I'd like to do to her when she finally did exactly as I thought she would, sitting up, scooping up her pile of clothing. She silently moved away, and closed the gate behind her.

I never told her that I saw her that night, instead choosing to treasure the images of her body that the moonlight seared into my memory, a private gift that she never even knew she'd given me.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

***

Christie's pool visits became more regular, almost every afternoon or evening. I found myself enjoying her company, and conversation, for more reasons than the most obvious one. Sure, her presence always improved the scenery in my yard, but she was great to have around for deeper reasons.

"So Christie, what's your goal for school, anyway?" I asked. "What are you trying to become?" It seemed a safe enough question at the time. Boy, was I wrong.

"Well, eventually a Psychologist, I hope. I really like figuring out what makes people tick," she smiled. "I also like to help people solve their problems."

"Where were you when I needed help?" I laughed. "Maybe I'd still be married!"

"You haven't told me what happened," she said quietly. "Care to unload a little?"

"Well, I haven't told anyone what happened, so don't take it personally," I replied.

"Don't you think it's time, then? I know it sounds cliché, but it really does help to talk about it. I know it's harder for guys to open up, and god knows their buddies are the last people they'd go to for advice about feelings, but I'll listen, if you want to vent." She was sitting back, legs crossed, bouncing her foot. "Seriously... Who else are you going to talk to?"

"Not that much to tell, really," I began. "My wife left me."

"I have a feeling there's more to it than that. Your wife left you. How long were your married?" she asked.

"Um... Twenty-six years," I replied, feeling the pain again.

"That's a long time," she said evenly. "So, you spent more than half your life together, and she left you. That must hurt."

"Yeah, it did, but I'm over it," I said quickly, not wanting to go down this road.

"No you're not," she said, leaning forward. Her big tits hung in her bathing suit, begging for attention. "If you were, we'd probably be in bed together, right now."

Well, I guess that answers any lingering questions about whether she was flirting on purpose or not. I wasn't sure how to deal with that little bit of information.

"Um... Uh... Christie, what are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying, but none of that matters, because you won't ever get over your wife. She wins, you lose. Today, tomorrow, next week, and next year. She wins every day for the rest of your life, until you deal with it." She was giving me a stern look. I guess this was 'tough love'.

"Jeez, you don't pull punches, do you?" I asked, smarting from her tongue lashing.

"Well, I've pretty much shown you all my cards," she smiled, sitting back again. "Talk to me."

"You're sure you're only twenty years old?" I laughed, marvelling at her depth and intelligence.

"Yeah, but they're dog years!" she giggled, smiling a mile wide. "Talk to me," she repeated.

"Okay, but remember... You asked for it," I relented.

"Yes I did, didn't I?" she nodded. "So, we've established that she left you, and it hurt you."

"Yes," I confirmed, "and I don't even know why. I thought we were happy. Even when we had problems, I thought we were working them out."

"Look at me," she said, staring at me with her baby-blues. "What am I thinking now? What made me pick what I had for lunch yesterday? Why do I like dogs?"

"Point, please?" I sighed.

"The point," she said, "is that you can't possibly answer those questions, any more than you can answer why your wife did what she did. Don't waste time trying to answer questions that can only be answered by someone else. Concentrate on yourself."

"Okay. I'll try," I answered.

"I'll bet it made you mad, her leaving?" she asked.

"You can say that again!"

"Do you still love her?" she asked, obviously going somewhere.

"Knowing what I know now, about her behaviour... No. I don't love her," I replied.

"And if you could go back, changing nothing except that you would know what you know now, that she cheated... She cheated, right?" I nodded. "Would you want her back, knowing she cheated? Forget about why... That's her problem... Purely based on that she did, could you ever trust her again?"

"No," I sighed, starting to see where she was going.

"So if you couldn't trust her, and you don't love her, would you still want her around?" Christie was going to be one hell of a therapist, if this was any indication.

"No!" I gasped, as the light came on. "So I've got what I wanted... Why do I still feel like shit?"

"Because what she really took away was not her presence, but something else. Something of yours, that only you can answer. I'd love to help you figure it out, but I think we've broken enough ice today," she whispered, standing. "Until tomorrow?"

"I actually look forward to it!" I laughed. "I'm going to owe you, big time!"

"We'll discuss payment at a later date," she giggled, winking at me. She went to the gate, waved and left.

***

I woke up happier. Happy that it was the weekend, so I didn't need to work. Happy that I had admitted that I didn't want my ex in my life anymore. Most of all, happy that Christie would be visiting again. She was right. Talking about it did make me feel better. Of course, there was that other bombshell she dropped in my lap yesterday, the one where we were potentially in bed together, in the literal sense. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't find that prospect intensely appealing... But it was also terrifying.

I was relaxing in the sun, thinking about our conversation yesterday, when the gate opened and my 'therapist' arrived, in her usual attire. She had commandeered Mom's suit again, and gracefully dove into the water, surfacing in the middle of the pool. She gave me a big smile, then walked slowly into the shallow end, taking her seat on the steps again.

"Do you want to talk some more?" she asked.

"Yes please, Doctor," I replied with a laugh.

"Ooooooo, a promotion!" she giggled, flicking water at me. "Okay, smartass, what do you think your wife really took from you?" Her confidence was unlike any woman her age I'd ever heard of.

"Physically... Her companionship. Mentally... Confidence, my trust in my feelings, that sort of thing," I answered.

"I'm impressed. You really have been thinking this through," she said quietly. "So, what has that got to do with anger? Why did you feel angry?"

"Yeah, I haven't got my head around that yet," I sighed. "I don't really know."

"Well, let's dig a little deeper. What else did you feel, besides anger?" she asked. I noticed her nipples were standing at attention again.

"Let's see... I remember feeling physically ill when I first found out. Sad of course, but I think that's to be expected, don't you?" I answered, hoping it was.

"Yes, it is. Go back... You said you felt sick. Were there any other physical symptoms?" She had rolled onto her stomach, and now had her boobs resting on the edge of the pool deck, like she did at the dinner table.

Well yes there was one, I thought, but there's no way I'm talking about that with you. I don't even like thinking about it. No man does.

"Um... No, not that I recall," I lied.

She wasn't buying it. "You're sure? , because there's one particular symptom that's pretty common in situations like this, and it could answer a lot of questions. Nothing more?"

Fuck! This gorgeous creature was seeing right through me! Worst of all, she was right.

I sat in silence, battling myself, balancing embarrassment with recovery, and wondering if this might all work out better than I could have hoped. I took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Okay, Christie, I'll tell you, but..."

"It's okay, you don't have to say it... You just have to admit that it happened, and how it made you feel," she whispered, reaching up to touch my hand. "I'm so sorry."

"They teach you this stuff?" I laughed, nervously.

"Yes, but not yet," she explained, smiling softly at me. Her hand was still on mine. "I told you I like to know what makes people tick, right? Well, I've been reading this stuff for years. I'm a bit ahead of the curve." Her soft, blue eyes looked at me, willing me to open up, to tear down all the barriers.

"How did that make you feel?" she asked.

Well, she took my manhood. She left me a limp, empty shell of my former self. Unfortunate emphasis on the 'limp' part.

"Terrified," I admitted. I was shaking, reliving all of it. Despite the close proximity of her delicious cleavage, so perfectly displayed by the neckline of her bathing suit, I wasn't looking. "Absolutely terrified."

"You're doing great," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "We're almost there. Do you want to stop, or keep going?"

"I guess the shit has already hit the fan," I laughed, trying to hold it together. "Might as well keep going. It probably can't get any messier."

"The 'problem'," she nodded, "does it persist?"

"No, thankfully. It was temporary." I thought I was glad of that, but she surprised me.

"Oh thank God!" she gasped. She smiled. "I was worried about that one!" She blushed a bit. "There I go again, showing you my cards." She took a deep breath, and pressed on.

"So, can you think of any reason she should have the ability to effect, um... your... um... your..." Suddenly, she was the one having trouble articulating.

"Am I not the one who's supposed to be having a hard time with this?" I laughed, strangely comforted by her apparent difficulty. "No, there's no reason why she should have that ability to effect my 'um'."

"Don't you think that might be it, then... to be angry at the person that most directly led to that, um... problem?" she smiled. I nodded. " I've read that people generally react to uncomfortable situations in one of two ways. They withdraw, or get hostile, which are really opposite sides of the same coin. Withdrawal, or fear, can be paralyzing. I'm sure you already know that."

I did. Deep down inside, I knew that I was afraid, but it had been masked by the more obvious anger that was easier to see.

"Is it possible that the reason you haven't moved on with your life, and found someone else, is that you're afraid? You were married for a long time... Nice and safe, knowing what to expect, and what was expected. Suddenly, you're thrust back into the trenches. That's got to be unnerving. Add to that the, um... side effects... and that anxiety...it's easy to understand why you'd subconsciously choose to limit your exposure to the potential danger. It was less painful to be angry and alone than to take responsibility for your reaction to her betrayal." She had just dumped a whole lot of grief in my lap, but done it in such a kind, caring and understanding way that it didn't seem that heavy. In fact, as her words set in, I felt a weight lift. I should have had this conversation years ago.

I sat there, deep in thought, silently processing things for a very long time. Long enough that Christie realized she had done everything she could, and left with a wistful smile. The rest was up to me. She had uncovered the land mine ; it was now up to me to refrain from stepping on it, over and over.

Okay, I thought, So, I can't trust my wife because she cheated, and I don't love her anymore. I'm glad she's gone, at that level. I have a choice to make ; let her keep destroying my life, after the fact, or deal with it, turn the page, and build a new life. She could only hurt me if I let her, so I won't let her. She was history, and I was going to live in the present. Easier said than done, I know, but now that I had made the decision, it should be easier to remind myself of that fact.

Suddenly the future looked brighter. I began to believe that there was life after my divorce, and more importantly, a love life after my divorce.

There was no doubt about with whom I'd like to resume, or perhaps resurrect, that love life, given the opportunity. I know it seems like Christie had given me the green light quite clearly, but I had to be sure. It may have been part of her strategy to get me to open up... shock therapy of a sort. If I made a move, and was wrong, I'd quickly be the old pervert that hit on the comely young daughter of my new neighbours. Things would get very uncomfortable, very fast.

That night, I had dreams about Christie. Her blonde hair, so soft and luxuriant ... her blue eyes, easily able to see right into my soul... her beautiful, pouting lips, begging to be kissed... and of course, that body, with its fabulous, voluptuous curves. I had to have her.

***

Of course, I came to that conclusion the day before she went back to school. Shitty timing. I had just enough time the morning she left to meet her... and her parents, of course... by her car before she left. With the audience we had, I certainly couldn't say or do what I wanted to say... or do.

"I'll, be back for Thanksgiving," she said, officially for her parents information, but she peeked at me out of the corner of her eye as she said it. I stood next to her car with my phone pointed at her, hoping she would get my unspoken suggestion.

I need not have worried. She was, after all part of the generation that was totally lost without their technological umbilical cord. Thankfully, Christie was less obsessed than most, but a few taps put her cell number in my phone.

As she drove away, I typed a message into my phone:

"Christie, I wanted to say thank you for helping me sort through my problems. I really do feel better."

Send. There. Politically correct expression of appreciation complete, I continued with what I really wanted to say:

"When you get back, I hope I can work off that payment I owe you. With interest, of course. Then you can show me your cards again."

I was back inside my house when she responded:

"Mr. Reynolds... are you hitting on me?" Oh shit! I thought. I was wrong!

"Just kidding! I'm glad I could help, and I look forward to collecting my fee."

My heart started again. Naughty girl. I responded:

"Shit! You scared me there. Please call me John. I think we've progressed beyond the Mr. Reynolds bit."

A few seconds later, she answered:

"Alright John. You can call me... Anytime!"

Thanksgiving was about ten long weeks away. That's a lot of time to obsess over her, especially since we hadn't even started yet, unless you count my spying on her skinny dipping performance. I may have made things worse by starting to text Christie.

My intent had been to say thank you, and open a long distance conversation with her. In that I'd been successful, but I hadn't factored in the libido of a technologically adept college student. I became her personal plaything, and she delighted in sending me suggestive texts.

She also sent me a few selfies. The first one was of her in one of her bikinis. Black. Tiny. Sexy. Her boobs hung out quite nicely. Along with it came a text that said "Mom's suit is nice, but I like this one better. Do you?"

I just sent her a thumbs up icon. After I sent it, I realized it looked a little bit like a stiff dick, which would have been correct, if inappropriate.

***

It was late one night in October that my phone buzzed. Another message from Christie.

"John, are you awake?"

Any response at all would be obvious. "Yes. The dogs can't type."

"Arf! Are you alone?" she probed.

"As always, yes. Are you?" She had helped me realize there were plenty of fish in the sea, and get over my ex-wife. Now I was ready to move on, but my primary interest was currently typing a response, from her dorm room, a six hour drive away.

"Actually, yes. My roommate is out getting laid. Her boyfriend's such an asshole." came the answer.

"So why aren't you out having fun, too?" I hoped I would like what I read.

"Men, or should I say boys, my age bore me. I prefer interesting men. Like you." she sent.

Music to my eyes, but I had to ask "Are you teasing me again?"

"Nope." Be still my heart, I thought

"Yes you are. You're six hours away. What can I do from here?" This banter was titillating, but frustrating. I wouldn't see her for a few more weeks.

"First, you can answer the phone. Then..." I read.

As if on cue, the phone rang. I pressed to green button.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Then you can tell me what you want to do to me," Christie's voice continued cheerily. "I assume you've heard of phone sex? Well this is better, and it won't cost you a fortune." She giggled...not a girlish titter...more of a sultry, suggestive chuckle. "So, John... What are you wearing?" Another giggle.

If she wanted to do this, I had to view it as a positive, didn't I?

"Just my underwear. And a smile," I replied.

"Lose the underwear," she purred. "Keep the smile."

"How about you? What are you wearing?" I said after I'd kicked my jockeys off.

"Mmmm, just a little Chanel No.5. Nothing else. Just like that night you watched me in your pool," she whispered. "You do remember that night, don't you, John?"

Holy fuck! The little minx knew I was watching! She'd done it on purpose!

"Remember it? I'll never forget it!" I groaned. "I wasn't aware that you saw me."

"Saw you? No. I was hoping your were watching. I figured you'd check on the dogs," she said quietly. "Did you like what you saw?"

"You don't need to fish for compliments, Christie," I said softly. "I'll tell you exactly what I saw, if you'd like?"

"Yes please," she breathed, a quiver in her barely audible voice.

"That night, I saw the most beautiful creature I had ever seen," I whispered. "I saw the world's most perfect woman, and someone I wished to get to know much better, in every way possible."

"Mmmm, thank you, John," she moaned. "Wish granted. Are you hard, John?"

"With the image of your naked body fresh in my mind?" I laughed. "Yeah! Like steel!" I heard her breathing pick up. "Are you wet?"

"Oh fuck, yes!" she hissed. "Absolutely dripping! I'm rubbing my clit. Are you touching yourself?"

"Wishing it was your hand, but yes," I replied. I kept my pace slow.

"If I was there, it wouldn't be my hand," she promised, breathing harder. "I'd suck you like no woman ever has, and swallow every drop of your hot, sticky cum. Would you like that, John?"

I had a mental image of those perfect, blue, limpid pools of lust, looking up at me while her sexy lips stretched around the girth of my cock. My hand sped up instinctively.

"Oh yes, Christie... I'd like that very much," I said, my voice quivering. What can I say? I love a good blowjob.

"Ooooooo, that got you, didn't it?" she giggled. "Got me, too. I love sucking a nice, hard cock! Don't cum yet, okay? I'm close, but I wanna cum together. Please?"

"Okay, baby," I grunted, gritting my teeth. Maybe I could help expedite her end of things. "I wish I had my tongue where you've got your fingers. I love licking pussy. Does it do anything for you?" I already knew that answer. The last woman who didn't like a firm, wet tongue on her clit was... You know, I'm not sure if I've ever heard of one. Christie gasped.