I laughed at her lament, but understood. I was disappointed the night was ending. I still didn’t know what path Celia and I were on. ‘Doesn’t your father get up with him sometimes in the morning?’
Celia shook her head. ‘My child, my responsibility,’ she said. Then she went up on her toes and kissed my cheek. ‘Good night, Keith.’ She went inside without another word.
I drove home with mixed feelings. The day had its highs. And its lows. Some parts of the day gnawed at me.
I tried to call Celia the next day. Several times. But no one ever answered.
Work kept me busy the following week. Celia begged off my get-together with Keith on Saturday. She didn’t give a reason. Just told me neither she, nor Keith could go to the park that day. I was disappointed but didn’t complain. Spending Saturday afternoon with my son was the highlight of my week. Being with Celia, even when she kept her distance from me, which was almost always, felt right, too. When she begged off for a second Saturday in a row, I protested. She hung up on me. I knew there was no point in calling back. If anyone answered, it would be Bart. He might be sympathetic, but he’d keep me away from his daughter from me if that’s what she wanted.
We had a massive storm that second Saturday night. Lightning, thunder, torrential downpours that came in waves. There were reports of a tornado about sixty miles southwest of us. I was sulking at home. Feeling sorry for myself. Missing my son. Convinced that the woman I loved wanted no part of me. Afraid she might put an end to my time with Keith. The storm knocked out TV reception. The radio was little better, mostly static and dead air. When the power went out just after ten, I considered going to bed. Instead, I lit several candles and returned to my perch on the couch. I fell asleep there. Like I often did back when I worked at Forrester. Back when I fell in love with Celia.
I woke sometime later, at first not sure why. The apartment was dark and the streetlights were still out. Still groggy, I closed my eyes again. But a loud pounding on my front door opened my eyes again. I carefully made my way in the dim light and opened the door. Celia pushed past me like someone was chasing her.
I had an overpowering sense of déjà vu. Celia had done this once before. Was she turning to me after another date gone awry? I looked outside before I closed the door. The storm had ended. No one was outside that I could see. There were branches and leaves strewn in the street and the neighboring yards. Celia’s car was right in front of the house. Parked facing the wrong direction.
When I turned to Celia, she pounced, embracing me so tightly I thought she might break a rib. She pushed away after a minute.
‘I want you to understand,’ she said. ‘I’m not here for Keith. It’s wonderful that he adores you and you him. I’m not here for you. You’re a big boy. Hopefully you can manage your own emotional well-being. I’m not here because my father thinks it’s what’s best for me. I stopped worrying about what my father thinks is best long ago. I’m here because I screwed up. I’m here because it’s what I want. And where I want to be. And my father, your parents, hell anyone that might have a different opinion can just keep it to themselves.’
I was speechless for a moment. I felt a smile move across my face. ‘In other words, you’re here because you’re horny,’ I said, trying to sound serious and utterly failing.
‘You dick,’ Celia said. ‘I’m trying to say I’m here because I love you, Keith Tobin.’ She hesitated a moment, then added, ‘What you said, too.’
‘Why do you think I still love you?’ I asked.
We both laughed at the absurdity of my question, but she stayed out of reach.
‘There’s one more thing,’ Celia said.
‘Something else to understand, I suppose?’
‘Yes, this.’
She stepped forward and forcefully took my hand and turned it palm up. Then she placed what felt like a small box in it. It was hard to make out what I held. I started to ask what she’d just handed me, but the lights flicked on. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw I was holding a six-pack box of condoms.
‘We’re going to use those every time until . . .,’
‘Until when,’ I interrupted.
‘Until we’re married. Or I kick you to the curb,’ she said.
‘Well, what do you think about getting married?’ I asked.
‘It’s a bit too soon for that,’ Celia said. ‘We haven’t even gone on a date yet. And before you say anything, taking Keith to a matinee of cartoons and movies doesn’t count as a date.’
‘We went for that walk in the park together that night. That was nice,’ I said. ‘You could call that a date.’
‘I don’t call nearly drowning in a torrential downpour and getting pelted with hail a date,’ Celia groaned.
‘So, where do we go from here? That is, if it’s too soon to get married.’
‘The first thing I’d suggest,’ she responded, ‘is shutting your mouth so we can get started on the box I just handed you.’
I dropped the box of condoms when Celia forcefully pushed me toward the couch, looking into my eyes as she did. Once I sat, she straddled my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. The summer dress she wore had a loose-fitting skirt. It allowed her to nestle comfortably, and tightly, against me. I’m not sure why I was so nervous. But I was. I felt like a kid about to have his first sexual encounter. My nervousness didn’t stop my body from responding, though. Feeling my hardness pressing against her, barely restrained by the baggy workout shorts I was wearing, caused her to moan softly.
Celia broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against mine. ‘I forgot how good it feels to have your cock pressing against me, Keith.’ She sighed before lightly kissing my lips. ‘If I could keep it like that, I might never let go of you again,’ she whispered as she looked into my eyes. One arm left its resting place on my shoulder. A moment later, her hand found mine and pressed something soft into it. I looked to see what it was. Bunched up soft cotton fabric with a feminine, floral pattern on it. Little yellow and white daisies atop a stem and green leaves on baby blue fabric. When I looked at her face again, she was grinning widely. ‘It’s going feel even better when I have you inside me again,’ she said softly. ‘But first . . .,’
Celia pivoted off my lap and propped her head against the armrest. She lifted one leg and draped it over the back of the couch. The skirt slid down her leg and bunched up, exposing her leg to within an inch of her sex. She pulled me to her, so I was on my hands and knees. The tent in my shorts caught on her skirt and pressed against her, inducing a strangled gasp. She cradled my face between her hands and kissed me again. Softly this time. Her lips just grazing mine. She held my face in place but away from hers a little and licked my lips. After a moment, she slid her hands down my cheeks and neck onto my shoulders. To my surprise, she pushed down hard on my shoulders.
We’d barely begun arousing each other but she was already breathing hard. ‘Lick me,’ she said in a breathy whisper. So softly I barely heard her. Then a little louder, but still a whisper, ‘Kiss me down there, Keith.’ She kissed the top of my head when I stopped at the exposed skin above her bodice and kissed her cleavage. ‘I want to cum like I did that night at the pool.’ Her back arched as I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and under her skirt. ‘I don’t care if your neighbors hear me scream,’ she sighed.
Celia never let me or asked me to repeat what I did that night. Resisted if I tried. I happily repositioned myself to grant her request. Celia spread her legs as widely as she could. She giggled when I pulled her skirt over my head. The giggle ended abruptly when I kissed the inside of her thigh then sucked the soft skin between my lips until I could nibble softly. I alternated legs, gradually working my way closer to the spot radiating the warmth I felt.
Celia’s breathing quickly grew ragged. I think as much, or maybe more, from anticipation than anything I was doing. It didn’t take long to work my way up her inner thighs. A kiss and suckle at the crease between her leg and the outer edge of her labia, yielded a loud sigh. I moved to repeat the kiss at the same spot on her other leg, dragging my tongue across her labia. The tip caught at the slit between her outer lips for just an instant, eliciting a throaty groan. As soon as I repeated the kiss and suck, her hands grasped my head. When she clasped her hands, she got handfuls of the thin cotton that made up her dress.
‘Don’t tease me anymore! Please don’t tease me anymore,’ she begged.
It was time to focus on her more sensitive regions. I used the tip of my tongue to trace around the outside of her labia minora and inside her outer lips. Up one side and down the other. Celia gasped loudly, pulled the skirt off my head, and grasped my head, tangling her fingers in my hair. Now she began guiding my efforts. In the next few minutes, I tried everything I could think of to please her. Her first orgasm rippled through her when I flicked the tip of my tongue against her clit and then pushed my tongue forward, dragging the length of it along the bundle of nerves centered in the tiny nub. Her second came only moments later after I pushed my tongue into her slippery inner core and caught her sex between my lips and sucked. I chose that moment to capture her clit between my upper lip and my tongue and hum. I felt my lips and tongue vibrate. That was when she cried out so loudly the neighbors might have heard. I doubt anyone did, though. Another thunderstorm and torrential downpour was raging outside and took out the power again.
Celia shook uncontrollably through her second orgasm. Her body experiencing a level of ecstasy that made me envious. I kept sucking and licking and probing and humming until she pushed on the top of my head, forcing me away.
I got on my knees, my hands caressing her inner thighs while her body undulated like ocean swells. Her body had barely begun to calm before she pinned me against the other armrest and was straddling my lap. She ground her groin against my still covered erection. She kissed me hard, encircling my neck tightly in her arms.
‘Fuck me, Keith,’ she whimpered when she broke the kiss. ‘I need you inside me.’
I’m not sure what prompted me to do it. Maybe I just felt like being a little evil. When a still trembling Celia leaned back to grope for the box of condoms, her position left her vulnerable. I pivoted and stretched my legs out, hooked my elbows under her knees and lifted her toward me. Celia fell backwards, coming to rest on my outstretched legs, her head inches from the floor. I pulled her up as far as I could and buried my face back into her groin.
‘Noooooo!’ she cried loudly while I lashed my tongue against her clit before pushing it inside her again. I held on to her hips tightly while her nervous system short-circuited. She bucked and shook and twisted as another orgasm tore through her. She started begging me to stop. I chose to ignore her pleas.
‘No. Stop. I can’t . . . can’t. Oh, god that feels good,’ she cried repeatedly until she ran out of breath. After taking a deep breath, she began again, ‘Stop! Oh, god, no. It feels so good I can’t stand it! Stop! No, yes, yes, yes, oh god don’t stop!’ When she finally collapsed, completely limp, I relented.
Celia looked up at me. She was nearly upside down. Her eyes glazed. She looked exhausted. She managed a weak smile. ‘If I had even an iota of energy left . . . I swear, I’d come up there and kill you,’ she said. After several deep breaths, she gasped, ‘Once I can move, I’m going to fuck you to death.’
‘Fuck me to death? Why not just kill me outright?’ I asked with a grin I was sure she’d take as as challenge.
‘Not a chance,’ she responded breathlessly. ‘I’m not letting you off that easy.’
It was a long night. Celia’s passion was rapacious. I was the beneficiary, maybe victim is more appropriate, of a woman with an insatiable appetite. Like she hadn’t had sex in years. Once she caught her breath, she almost tore my shorts and underwear off so she could suck my cock. Admittedly, that first one didn’t take much effort on her part. I was well primed and might have gone off just seeing her naked body. The rest of the night took far more effort on both our parts. I have no idea how many times Celia went over the edge. She claimed she couldn’t count that high. Somehow, Celia managed to keep me awake most of the night.
I woke in the morning because the phone was ringing. I picked up the phone and my watch at the same time. It was just after six. I’d been asleep a very short time. ‘Hello.’
‘Good morning, Keith.’ It was Bart.
My first thought was, ‘Oh, shit. I’m in for it now.’ But I had to talk to him. ‘Good morning, Mr. Contessori.’ Celia perked up.
There was a moment of silence on the other end. ‘Feeling guilty this morning?’ he asked.
‘A little,’ I said.
‘So, you thought addressing me as Mr. Contessori instead of Bart might buy a little good will?’
‘I can always hope,’ I said sheepishly.
‘So, my daughter is there. She woke me late last night to tell me she had to go out. She didn’t say where. I made an educated guess this morning when I saw she didn’t come home.’
‘Do you want to talk to her?’ Celia was shaking her head furiously. Cringing at the prospect of talking to her father while still in my bed. The contents of the box she’d given me was strewn on the floor at my feet. Some eventually destined for the nightstand drawer. The rest soon destined for the trash.
‘No, I do not want to talk to her.’ He emphasized the do and the not. ‘Tell her Keith is up and asking for her. I told him she went to Becker’s because we’re out of bread, which, fortunately, we are. Remind Celia her Uncle David is coming by to pick me up at eight so we can go up to the lake house for a few days. Her uncle won’t be happy if she delays our fishing trip.’
I looked at Celia. ‘You got up early and went to Becker’s to get bread,’ I told her with a grin. She pulled the sheet up over her head.
‘Keith?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘I already know you’ll do right by my daughter.’
Before I could say anything, he hung up. ‘You better get up and go home. Don’t forget to stop at Becker’s for bread.
Celia tossed the sheet off and glared at me. I laughed at the site of her. She couldn’t leave looking like she did. Her hair was a tangled, knotted, matted mess. Anyone that saw her wouldn’t think she’d just rolled out of bed to run to the bakery. One look and anyone would know how she’d spent the last few hours.
Celia ran to the bathroom. ‘Oh, crap. I can’t go out like this,’ I heard her complain once she in front of the mirror.
‘Take a quick shower,’ I told her.
‘Why did you keep me up so late? You’re coming over after I go home. I’m going to need a nap. I’m going to use your toothbrush.’
‘There’s a new one in the top drawer on the left side. I hope you’ll want to keep one here.’ I stopped on my way to the kitchen. ‘Wait a minute. What do you mean why did I keep you up so late? You never told me to let you sleep. In fact, if I recall, I tried to go to sleep twice. But you said you weren’t done with me yet.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ Celia said just before she shoved my toothbrush in her mouth.
I don’t think I ever saw anyone get through a shower as quickly as she did. I pulled on my shorts and a tee shirt while she was in the shower. On the way out the door, she gave me a quick kiss, ‘You better come to the house. I mean it. I’m going to need a nap.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. I may have to work.’
‘Like hell. If you don’t show up, I’ll divorce you and file for alimony and child support. You’ll be living in your car.’
‘We’re not married!’
‘I’ll marry you, file for divorce, and then take you for everything you’ve got,’ she said as she ran out the door. When she got to her car she stopped. ‘Keith, I told my son who you are. He was mad at first. That’s why you didn’t see him. I didn’t want to rush him through figuring it all out. He asked when you were going to the park again last night when I tucked him in.’ She got in her car and started it before what she said sunk in. She made a quick U-turn on the empty street and headed toward Becker’s.
While Celia took a nap, we played with his Legos and his plastic dinosaurs. I took Keith for a walk later that morning while Celia was still asleep. The first time I’d been alone with him. He jabbered a mile a minute on the walk to the playground. A disjointed string of random thoughts, ideas and statements without a single thread to connect any of them. It might have made my head spin if Celia had let me get a couple hours sleep. Instead, she called less than an hour after she left, imploring me to get there as soon I could.
‘I wanna do the swings,’ he said when we got to the playground. I stood behind him, pulled him back and let him go. When his momentum carried him back to me, I gave him a push. ‘Are you my real Dad?’ he asked when I pushed him a second time.
I never thought five-year-old boys got contemplative. Engaged in deep thinking about weighty subjects. Keith rattled me a little during our conversation while he was on the swing.
‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am. I don’t think your mother would lie to us about that.’
‘Is that why you started hanging out with us? Because you’re my dad?’
‘Yep. A man’s supposed to be there for his children.’
‘I think that’s why we have fun together,’ he said.
‘I won’t always be fun,’ I told him. ‘Sometimes, I’ll tell you things you won’t like.’
Keith didn’t say anything the next couple times I pushed him. ‘That’s okay,’ he said suddenly. ‘Mom and Pop-pop tell me stuff like that sometimes. How come you and Mom aren’t married?’
‘That’s hard to explain,’ I said. ‘But that could change. Would it be okay if it did?’
He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he asked another. ‘If you and Mom got married, would you sleep over sometimes? Bobby Nelson, my baby-sitter’s son sleeps over sometimes. We have fun, too.’
‘I think it’s more likely you’ll sleep over at my house. All the time.’
The boy turned and looked at me. ‘Where would I sleep? There’s only one bedroom at your house.’
‘I’d have to move so you have your own room.’
‘What about Mom? Would she get her own room, too? Like at Pop-pop’s house?’
I stifled a laugh. ‘If we get married, she’ll probably share a room with me.’
‘Are you going to marry my mom?’
‘I haven’t asked yet.’
‘Do you want me to ask her for you?’
‘No, I’d rather do it myself. I might get in trouble if you ask.’
‘What should I call you now? Do you want me to call you Keith still?’
‘What do you think?’ I asked.
‘Is it okay to call you Dad?’
‘I’m okay with it. But maybe we should ask your mother first.’
‘Let’s go do that now,’ the boy said.
I stopped pushing the swing and let gravity slow it. ‘You sure? You don’t want to stay and play for a while longer?’
‘No, I wanna ask Mom now so I don’t forget. I forget stuff I’m supposed to do sometimes,’ he told me.
‘I don’t think you’ll forget that. Tell you what, we’ll go back to your house. If your mom is up, you can ask her right away. If she’s still taking a nap, I’ll make us some lunch first. Then you can go wake her up. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
There were still a few weeks before Celia had to show up at school to begin preparing for the upcoming school year. I requested vacation time. City hall was essentially a ghost town during the last weeks of August. Sally, still interim city editor, told me I could take two weeks when I told her I was getting married. By that time, I was reasonably sure Sally had decided she liked me after all. But then the cantankerous witch asked who the unfortunate girl was. She didn’t look like she was joking. I was tempted to tell her Celia Heywood but bit my tongue.
Celia and I got married in a civil ceremony a few days after I talked to Keith about being his father. I called my parents and told them I was coming for a visit. Mom offered to pick me up at the airport, but I assured her it wasn’t necessary; I reserved a rental car.
Celia was a nervous wreck when I parked in the driveway of my parent’s house. Little Keith had no idea what to expect. All he knew was we were going where I grew up and where his mother used to live. And that he would meet more grandparents. Truthfully, he was still too excited about his first ride on an airplane to care what the adults in the car were trying to explain.
I knew my father would be at work for a little while after I arrived at my parents’ house. My mother had to be watching for me. She was in the driveway before the car stopped. I got out quickly. Naturally, I was her first priority. She dashed over and gave me a hug and a kiss. A few years earlier I might have been embarrassed by getting a kiss from my mother if I brought a girl home. But it wasn’t a girl I was bringing. It was a wife, though my mother didn’t know that yet.
‘Who’s with you?’ Did you bring a girlfriend?’ my mother asked hopefully.
Celia got out of the car and looked over the roof at my mother. ‘Hello, Dottie,’ she said softly.
‘Celia! What a nice surprise! How is it you’re coming to visit with . . .’ My mother turned to me. ‘Keith, what’s going on?’
‘Mom, before I tell you, I think you should meet someone first.’
Celia opened the back door and little Keith scrambled out. ‘I need to go to the bathroom, Mom!’ he said in that loud voice children often use whether they need to or not.
My mother walked around the front of the car with me right on her heels. ‘Who is this little guy?’ she asked. Then turning to me, ‘Keith, what’s going on? Tell me right now.’
‘Dottie,’ Celia said, ‘it’s no longer Celia Heywood.’
‘Mom, I married Celia a few days ago. This little guy is our son, Keith.’
‘Your son?’ my mother asked. ‘How can that be?’ She hesitated a moment while she gave it some thought. ‘The night you went skinny-dipping,’ my mother said.
‘Not quite, but not long afterward,’ I said.
‘Can we go inside?’ Celia asked. ‘Keith needs the bathroom.’
The rest of that first night with my parents went as one might expect. After the initial shock, Mom took to Keith like any grandmother might take to a grandchild. She never complained to me but I’m sure she was annoyed that she missed his first five years. Celia later told me she got the third degree about the matter. I showed Mom the family portrait from when I was a toddler. If she ever doubted who Keith’s father was, it dismissed any questions before she ever gave voice to them. I wasn’t surprised my father was less surprised than my mother. He suspected more was going on between Celia and I than just a walk and a swim in the buff that hot Georgia night. Keith was excited about sleeping in my old bedroom. And my old bed. Celia and I grinned like idiots while we got situated in the guest bedroom. Excited at the prospect of reliving some of our first summer in the same bed, even if we had to restrain our enthusiasm with my parents in the next room.
Being married to Celia has sometimes been an emotional roller coaster. It hasn’t always been perfect. We’ve had some rocky times, but what married couple doesn’t? It took some convincing to get her to believe I owned . I had delayed telling her about it until we were house hunting and she expressed concern about how we’d pay for it. I never doubted marrying Celia was the best thing that ever happened to me. Our three children have given us seven grandchildren.
Without bothering to conduct a search, Bill Barrett decided Sally Parker should remain city editor at . She complained bitterly when told she wasn’t going back to reporting. I never believed it was anything but posturing. She took to the editor’s desk like she was born to it. She even got nominated for a Pulitzer one year, though didn’t win. She remained in the job for a little over six years before retiring.
When I returned to from my honeymoon, Barrett, at Parker’s suggestion, decided it was time for me to take on a different role. I became Parker’s permanent replacement, though it ruffled the feathers of three other reporters that wanted the job. With Casey gone, there was budget room to give me a salary. To cover local sports, Barrett instituted a program that relied upon, and paid, high school students to write our coverage. I got ‘stuck’ with mentoring them and editing their copy. To be honest, I mostly enjoyed it.
Before Barrett retired three years later, he sought input from me before he hired the new managing editor. I was introduced to Paul Durkin at a restaurant near the airport when he came in to start work. I still wanted my ownership of the paper to remain secret from the staff. I made the same deal with Durkin I made with Barrett. Durkin remained at for nine years, during which he revamped the editorial staff and modernized operations. One of his decisions was making me city desk editor when Sally retired.
Durkin eventually moved on to a big city newspaper on the west coast. When Durkin told me he was leaving at the end of his contract, I asked that he do his best to hire the right person to replace him. He interviewed more than a dozen candidates. Then set about convincing me it was time to reveal my ownership of the paper and take over its management. It took him four months to sell me on it. Reactions among the staff ranged from amusement to bemusement to absolute horror.
I think I made some good decisions while I ran , but mostly, I was lucky. I hired a few key people with vision. People that foresaw the internet would change the news business. And somehow convinced me they were right and that I needed to redirect resources to developing an online presence and different revenue streams. Though eventually ceased existence as a print news organization. Heywood Publishing thrived as a regional media company until being bought by a much larger media company. I’m not entirely happy with how my old business has changed, but I no longer worry about it. My grandfather’s, and then my father’s old firm still operates. My father followed my grandfather’s example and began transferring ownership to me over a period of years. I own it outright now. But I let it be. I know nothing about that industry and truthfully, don’t want to. I only meet periodically with the CEO to go over financials.
Celia and I live modestly and always have. I don’t drive a Porsche or a Lamborghini. A three-year-old Ford SUV and a twelve-year-old Mercedes are what you’ll find in my garage. The Ford is what I drive. Our house is a little nicer than most but it’s hardly ostentatious. We take nice vacations, but we don’t rub elbows on the French Riviera or in Monte Carlo. Though all are educated and have good jobs, our children also live modestly. Our grandchildren are in the dark about the family money and will remain so until learning about it is unavoidable. Celia and I hope they want to make their own way. The way I wanted to. I think their parents have them headed in the right direction.
I accomplished more in life than I expected, though I recognize I had advantages most people don’t. That knowledge tempers my pride. My only ambitions now are spending time with my grandchildren. And, more importantly, making sure that every night, I sleep next to the woman I first fantasized about, then fell in love with. The woman that ran away from me and left a void I couldn’t fill. I still have trouble believing I blundered onto her again. I still get a thrill when I remember when she decided I was what was missing from her life after all. For a long time, I didn’t believe in happily ever after. But now I believe I live it.
*
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