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She moved away to turn the water on, trying to remember the last time she and her husband had had sex. It was lackluster, for lack of a better word. He didn’t say much, played with her a little bit, and she usually came if he didn’t fall asleep.
They got into the shower, and she didn’t waste any time on him, doing everything to him that she had in her personal sex act repertoire until he was groaning, she hoped in pleasure.
He got into the act, too, washing her, and she enjoyed the attention, allowing all modesty to fall away.
They got out and dried off and got right into bed.
“I’m a little nervous,” she confessed.
“I’ll be careful.”
He knelt between her legs and pushed up against her, and at first there was enough resistance that Beverly wasn’t sure he’d get in. Reaching down, she grabbed him and aimed it at the exact place, and that was all it took. He entered her and they both groaned.
Nothing was forbidden. “For a couple of middle-aged people, that was really wild,” she said later. They sat in bed talking, eating the sandwiches she had prepared earlier, sharing their sexual history.
“My wife wouldn’t experiment much,” he said. “She was embarrassed because she was chubby. I liked her, but it inhibited her.”
“My husband was just selfish. I wonder how his young girlfriend manages. I’m guessing he is bringing out all the big guns with her.”
They laughed at Alfonso’s expense, but she didn’t care. In more than thirty years of marriage, he’d never made her yodel like Randy just had, worried she might swallow her tongue, it was so intense.
“I guess we’d better get some sleep,” she finally said, taking his plate and glass. “What do you usually do on Sunday?”
“I go to mass. And then I try to do something out of the ordinary. Like take a hike or a canoe ride.”
“Do you want to spend the day together tomorrow?” she asked. “I’d love to go to church. And getting into a canoe sounds like a blast.”
“Great! That’s exactly what we’ll do, then. I’ll even make you breakfast.”
“I love breakfast!”
She got out of bed, and he watched her moving around the room, pulling a T-shirt on, seemingly totally without modesty. Rummaging through a drawer, she held up a pair of gray, utilitarian sweatpants.
“Here, if you don’t mind wearing them, pants of my ex’s. He took everything he wanted, and this crap is going to the Salvation Army.”
“I don’t mind wearing them at all. We can stop by my house in the morning so I can change.”
She went into the bathroom and came out later, smelling of toothpaste and face cream.
“I left you a new toothbrush on the counter.”
He thanked her and got up to brush and dress. And when he came back, she was sound asleep.
Chapter 10
Sunday morning, Calista and her children walked to mass at Saint Joseph Padua. Dreading thinking about her goal that day, she was going to make arrangements to speak with Alphé. But first things first, and going to mass would set the tone for the day.
As soon as they reached home, however, and the children were situated, she went into her bedroom and called him. He’d most likely be out in the boat with no cell phone reception, but she’d leave him a message, asking him to speak with her that evening.
So when he answered, she was shocked.
“I thought you’d be fishing.”
“Calista?”
“Yes. Did you get a letter?”
“I did,” he said, more upset that morning than he had been the night before. “I’m sorry, Calista. I’m sorry I brought her into the family.”
