Derek sat back as Sara worked on a problem. They had been working an hour on her math, but her story didn't make sense to him.
"Sara, I looked you up on the internet. Nothing you said about your father made sense to me."
Sara sat straight up. Oh shit, she thought, make something up quick.
"Because it was all a cover-up story, that is why. The FBI was after the men who caused the wreck. Charlie told me he thinks I'm in witness protection, wrong picture and all. My Dad did cement work, and they think they buried people under his pours. My Dad found out and was going to testify, but they killed him and my Mom. This is what Charlie was able to find out so far. I know it is strange because it is not us in the picture. I need to stop telling people about me, or my cover will be blown," Sara told him.
"Yeah, I would suggest you not tell anyone else. Maybe change your name," Derek suggested.
Sara smiled and said, "I thought six years and them thinking I'm dead is enough."
"Maybe, but you never know. You are still known as long as you are on the internet."
"Ok, Derek, I will keep my mouth shut. No one will hear my story again. Can I trust you to keep it to yourself?" Sara asked, seeing the concern in his eyes. Leaning over, she lightly kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips. Moist and soft, she could taste the pecan pie still flavoring his mouth. Sliding his hand behind her neck, he pulled her towards him. Deepening the kiss, she moaned, enjoying his attention. This is how a kiss should be soft and sexy, she thought as he shifted in his seat, bringing her with him. Tipping her head, she broke the kiss.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away," Derek said, gripping her jaw.
"No, that was nice. I was just afraid I would end up in your lap," Sara said, embarrassed.
"Would that be so bad?" Derek asked, seeing her reaction.
"The kiss was nice, the nicest I ever had, but my sex life has not been the best," Sara said and shook her head, dismissing the thought.
"Well, first, I was not looking to have sex with you.
I just wanted a kiss," Derek told her, looking innocent.
"Oh, is that so?" She asked, feeling hot but vulnerable
"Yes, I have been wondering since you walked in the door at the store what your lips would feel like," he told her, taking his thumb lightly and caressing her lips.
Tipping her head again, she bit his thumb, taking it into her mouth. She flicked it with her tongue and let it loose. I can play this game, she thought. She stood, shifted to his chair, sat lightly in his lap, and looped her arm around his neck. "Then kiss me," Sara told him as she pressed her lips to his. It started sweet and intensified, sending hot surges down between her legs.
"Whoa, this is getting uncomfortable." Looking between the loveseat and the bed, she looked at Derek.
"I can behave if you just want to kiss. I will kiss you forever," Derek told her.
Looking at his sweet smile, she took his hand and walked him to the bed.
"Just kissing. I never had a boyfriend before."
"So, am I your boyfriend?"
"I'd like you to be," Sara told him, pulling him onto her bed. She lay back as he scooted up beside him. He shifted, and he was perching above her.
"So, you like my kisses," Derek teased.
"I do. They send tingles all over my body."
"That's good because yours do the same to me," he told her as he hovered above her and began to kiss her. They kissed for what seemed like forever. Rolling to his side, he pulled her with him; his kiss revealed his hunger for her. Needing to calm down, he cupped her face and withdrew his kiss. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you," he told her, breathing heavily.
"I know you wouldn't, but I just need time. Sex has never been good for me," She tried to explain. She was enjoying kissing him, so that was encouraging. Maybe having sex with a good man wouldn't be bad. All the women she has seen can't be living with a jerk like Jason. They have a genuine smile for someone they may be hurt by.
"I didn't say that to get you to have sex with me, Sara," he shifted in the bed, reaching to pull her to him. "If and when we do have sex, it will not be forced. You will want it as bad as I do, but for tonight, I can't take any more kissing. You are about to drive me crazy," he told her, turning to get off the bed, "Just call me, and I will come and kiss you some more," he said, straightening his clothes.
"Derek," Sara called out, shifting to the side of the bed, where she sat on the edge. He turned and looked at her.
The look in her eye called to him louder than her voice. He walked over and put his hand on the back of her head. "I don't mean to drive you crazy. I need time to adjust," she told him, tilting her head up to him; he returned for a light kiss. "I have to go, sweetheart," he said before he climbed back on the bed with her.
"Ok, I will work on the problems the next few days," she said, sounding disappointed he was leaving. "Next time, we will work on the social studies part," she suggested.
"How about we go out? Let me show you the nightlife in our fair city. We can study the dance floor or a movie."
"Well, since I can't dance, I think a movie would be better. Maybe a sexy one so I can learn how it should be done," Sara teased. Sliding off the bed, she followed him to the door.
Pulling her back into his arms, he told her, "If I don't see you before Friday, I'll pick you up at 7:30 and take you to dinner and a movie," he gave her a quick kiss and was out the door. She ran to her front window to watch him leave. He stood at her window, signaling her to close her curtains. She pulled them closed and stood holding them as he drove away.
How could she have found the perfect man so quickly? He is the first one she met, too. She wondered as he drove down the street if she should keep looking. Going to her door, she stuck her head out to see if Marge was still up. Hearing the TV, she quietly walked into the den. She read a book and watched TV as Charlie slept on the couch. Just how she envisioned. Marge looked up as she entered the room. "Did he go?"
"Yeah, he asked me out on Friday," Sara said as she came around and sat next to her. "He kissed me."
"Oh, he did," Marge asked, setting her book aside.
"Yeah, it was nice."
"Didn't freak you out," Marge asked, patting the couch next to her so she would shift closer and talk.
"No, I thought I would be, but he is so sweet. He looked me up on the internet and was asking questions. I told him I was in witness protection. That my father," and she went on telling the story.
Charlie was looking at her as she finished the story.
"He is right; you must stop telling people your made-up stories. It is going to be hard to keep it all straight. You need to become a mystery woman."
"I know no more talking. But we all got caught up in telling him about the cement guy."
"True, but no more stories. From now on, no more."
"Ok, so what movie do you want to see?" Marge asked to change the subject.
"Oh, Mom, I have no idea. I have only been to the movies once. Jason took me right before we married in the small town nearby."
"Yeah, back when he was trying to prove he was a good guy," Marge added.
"Ah, but Derek kisses so well. He makes my toes tingle," Sara told her, leaning back against the couch and patting Marge's leg. "You were right; he is a good guy. He never once did anything inappropriate. He just kissed me."
*
Derek drove home; he had finally recovered from kissing Sara. She was hot, but her life was crazy. Much of what she told him made no sense. At some points, she is all there; the next, she is off in a different world. When he got up close, he could see the fine scars on her lips and the slight distortion of her right eye. Did he want to get involved with a brain-damaged girl who was fighting to pass her GED when he had an MBA he was questioning? On top of that, she has sexual hang-ups, maybe. Her first experiences were rapes, some taking place even before she was self-aware by some sadistic pervert.
Walking into his house, his brother Bryson was at the table doing paperwork. "You're late; been seeing Miss Sara?" Bryson goaded, knowing that was where he was going.
"Yeah, she needed help studying."
"What is she working on?"
"Her GED."
"What, she doesn't have a high school diploma?" His brother asked, dumbfounded at his over-educated brother's interest in this girl.
"No, she was in a bad car wreck and almost died a few years ago. It's a long story," he said, waving his hand at him to dismiss his questions.
"That is what I have been thinking about. Do I want to pursue her or just let it go? She is a beauty, but she is, I wouldn't call it slow, but very naïve. She lived a very sheltered life. She didn't know about a lot of things. Watching her reaction when she comes up against something new is fun. Shopping alone is a trip with her. I took her to Pier 1, which you would have thought was Disneyland. She enjoyed looking around and picking up a few things for her room," Derek said, unsure about this girl.
"So, stop seeing her. Just be unavailable a few times, and she'll get the idea," Bryson told him as he returned to the paperwork.
"Yeah, I think I'll think about it for a while. She is nice looking and would not take much to get her past the kissing part,"
Derek said as he walked to his room. But did he want to deal with all her insecurities? Then he went back to her stories. Those made no sense. She was jumping to make up a story to cover her last story. If the one of her being raped in a hospital she will live in for years was true, that was hard to get over. Jesus, how screwed up is she going to be. Nope, he was walking away from that one. He needed someone to help him make a good life for them, not an anchor around his neck.
*
Sara sat in her room, looking out her window. A crew to do the neighbor's lawn across the street was unloading mowers. Lawns are sparse in this town, and you had to fight to keep a nice one. Theirs was mainly around the house. The back of the yard was sand and scrub. A small gang started on his lawn like ants. Everyone had a job, and the lawn was done in thirty minutes. Looking at their lawn, she shook her head. The real estate agent had her people come out when they moved in to mow theirs. They told them it was the last time. The realtor keeps them too busy to take on more business. Charlie forgot to ask for a referral. Sara would do the lawn herself if they had the equipment. She loved doing her lawn back in her old life, even if she had to push the rusted thing.
The neighbor drove up as they loaded the equipment. Sara watched him pay a man who looked whiter than the others did. They talked for a few minutes and walked around the edge of the lawn. They seemed to be agreeing about something and shook hands. He went into the house, and they drove away. She noticed him a while back; he was well-built and, as far as she could see, was handsome and lived alone.
Boredom overtook her; she closed her computer. She spent the last two days working on algebra problems until she became sick of them. Social studies were proving to be easier than she thought. All she had to do was type in part of the question, and the answer would pop up on her computer. How a long article would pop up was fantastic, but she was learning some interesting facts about this crazy country. It was early evening, and she was tired of facts and figures. The man across the street called to her. As far as she could see, he was in his 30s and alone.
All her watching out her window, she had never seen anyone but him drive up. The lights went out by 11:00 at night. He drove a nice car and wore a suit wherever he went each morning. Coming home was a different thing altogether. Some nights before he came home, it could be from 3:00 to 8:00. He didn't seem to go out on weekends. She saw him puttering around in the yard a few times on Saturday before the heat got too bad, and he would return before noon. However, he had a yard service, and they needed one, Sara reasoned.
There is no harm in being friendly and asking about his lawn service people. She wanted to meet him. Watching him was becoming tiresome. She wanted to know what he sounded and did when he left in that suit daily. Who was he?
"Mom, Pops, I will go across the street and ask our neighbor about his lawn service. They just left. In another week, we will need the yard done again," Sara told them as she walked into the den. Pops was lying on the couch, and Mom was reading a book in her favorite chair. Standing at the entry, she smiled as Mom looked up at her. "Ok, sweetheart, good luck finding someone. Hey, ask about cleaning services. He may know someone," she called out as Sara walked away.
"I think we should put an ad in the paper," Sara told her.
"Well, maybe, but I would rather have a referral than a call out of nowhere," Marge told her.
"Yeah, I can understand that. So far, we have kept it up well," Sara whined back, but her plans didn't include being a housekeeper.
"I know, but I would rather pay someone to do it," Marge complained, "you will be busy soon, and I'm too old to keep this big place up."
"OK, I will ask. I shouldn't be gone long," Sara told her and walked out the front door. The summer heat hit her. Looking down at her bare feet, "Oh well, it is just across the street," she said, sprinting up the drive. The driveway was shaded half the way to his house, and with each step, it got hotter on her feet. Looking back at her house and then across the street. She was trying to determine if she was better off returning and getting shoes or continuing. Good sense left her as she sprinted faster across the street. Making it to his porch was no help. The red porch tiles were even hotter. She rang his bell and hopped up and down, trying to cool her feet.
The man was in his living room, coat and tie in hand, watching a video when the bell rang. Walking towards the door, he saw someone bouncing on his porch through his ornate glass door. Rushing to answer, he saw a pretty-looking girl moving as if in pain. "Yes, can I help you?" He said, looking down, he saw she was barefooted.
"Oh lord, come in," he suggested, backing away so she could step in.
Sara could swear she heard her feet sizzle when she hit the cool tiles inside his house. "Oh goodness, I didn't realize it would be so hot when I started over here," Sara told him with a pained smile, feeling so stupid. "I'm from across the street," she told him, pointing to her house and sighing with relief. "We moved in a few weeks ago."
"Yeah, I noticed. I'm sorry I haven't been neighborly, but I haven't been here long, either. Please come in and let me get you a cool towel for your feet," he told her. He took off down a hall, leaving her to roam freely. Sara stood in the entry, hearing what sounded like someone having sex coming from the other room. The man rushed back, towel in hand. His concern touched Sara. No man save Pop had ever cared if she was in pain.
"Come and sit down. Let's see how much damage you have done to those pretty feet," he told her, encouraging her to follow him toward the room where the sound was coming from. She tentatively followed him stepping into the room; Sara saw a naked man and woman on a big TV screen, and yes, they were having sex—far different sex than she had seen during that movie.
"Oh, I'm sorry, let me turn this off," the man said, rushing over to the TV.
"No, let me see," Sara said without realizing how bad that sounded. The man stopped and looked at her with a quizzical smile on his face.
"Ok, sure, but let's look at your feet," he said, returning towards her. Sara sat on the fireplace hearth and stared at the TV. Noting the scene had her mesmerized, he picked up her foot and pressed the damp towel to the bottoms of her foot. Looking up into her face, he chuckled. "Never seen anything like that before?" He asked, looking into her eyes and watching them move with the people on the screen.
"No. I have had sex, but not like that. Now see, she is enjoying that," Sara said, pointing towards the TV. "He is not hurting her."
He looked back at the screen, which was pretty graphic, but no, she was enjoying it so much for his suit.
"So, when you had sex, he hurt you?" He asked.
"Yeah, every time," Sara said and then realized what she was saying. "Oh my god, I'm sorry that was inappropriate," she said, burying her face in her hand. She could feel the red burning her ears. She was so embarrassed. She had done it again, but she said too much. She is here with a perfect stranger, talking about sex. She is retarded she had to be. Who else in their right mind would speak like this?
"No, don't mind me. It was inappropriate to have it on when I invited you in. I have a new client, and we are suing over this video," he told her.
"Why, is that them?" Sara asked, her attention on the screen as the man started something new. He seemed to be describing how he was doing it.
"No," he said as he sat beside her and reached for her other foot. "This is supposed to be an instructional video, but my client was injured while trying to follow the instructions. Hence, he wants to sue. I was watching to see what he was talking about.
I'm Andrew Billings, Attorney at Law; he introduced himself to her and extended his hand to shake. Sara turned red and shook his hand.
"I'm sorry. I have never seen anything like that before. The fact you could have sex and enjoy it is. I don't know, it's new for me, I guess I could say," Sara said, still watching the video.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Sex should always feel good," he told her, putting her other foot down.
"Oh, thanks," Sara told him, still looking embarrassed. "I'm Sara from across the street."
"Well, hello, Sara from across the street," he told her with a sexy smile. "So, what brings you over here?"
His smile threw her. She looked into his eyes, noting how beautiful they were. They were a deep shade of blue, almost navy in the hue. "Oh yes, Mr. Billings," Sara said, pulling her attention away from his face.
"Call me Drew."
"Not Andy," Sara teased, trying to bring the conversation lighter. He was making her body hum, just sitting next to him.
"No, I prefer Drew."
"But isn't Andy usually shorter than Andrew?"
"Well, it might be, but I prefer Drew."
"Ok, well, Andy," Sara said teasingly, "we need a lawn service. I saw you have someone mowing your lawn today, and I wanted to see if you would give me their name."
"Well, Joyce, I feel they are expensive, but yes, I can give you the number," Drew teased back.
"So, Andy, could I ask how much they charged you," she said, keeping up the teasing. He looked like he needed to smile at her.
"Well, Joyce, they charged a hundred dollars to do my yard. What it takes them all thirty minutes is almost lawyer pay," Drew complained.
"But there are six of them and one of you. That is how they get it done so fast."
"True smarty pants," Drew chuckled. She was right. She was delightful.
Sara was back to watching the video, and he watched her eyes. "Sara, who hurt you?" He asked, hating whoever it was that hurt her.
"Oh, this man," Sara said, clenching her hands and digging her nails into her palms. She did it again, talking too much. Is she going to tell everyone her stupid, made-up life story? She shook her head and looked back at Drew.
"I'm sorry you don't need to hear my sad story." She stood and plopped back down, "Ouch, which is painful."
"Yeah, the bottoms of your feet are red. They may blister."
"I guess that is what I get for being lazy. I should have put shoes on before heading over here."
"But you have such pretty feet. Covering them would be a shame," he teased and flirted.
Sara looked at her feet and back at him. "So, I have been watching you," She informed him, "you live by yourself?"
He smiled and chuckled, happy to hear she had noticed him, too. He had seen her. How could he not have her curtains open all the time?
"I do. I moved here about two months ago from California to the Santa Monica. I came out here to work with an old friend.
I will probably be divorced in a few weeks, as long as my ex signs the papers," he told her, sounding doubtful.
"Is that why you moved the divorce?" Sara asked, trying to keep him talking. He was beyond handsome to her.
"Yes, the last place had me working 16 hours a day. My wife was tired of being alone, so I found someone who didn't work my hours. So, hence the divorce," he told her, sounding unhappy about the changes in his life.
"No kids?" Sara asked, concerned. She didn't see any pictures. Either he had none, or he didn't care for them.
"No, we never got around to doing that. She had other things on her mind," he said, disappointed.
"I'm sorry you must be lonely," Sara asked, pulling one foot over her knee to look at the bottom. She could tell she had done some damage.
"Yeah, I do get lonely. How about you?" He said he would love to entertain and keep her from loneliness. He has thought about that since she moved in.
"Oh, I have Marge and Charlie's parents, kind of, so it is not too bad," Sara said, putting her foot down on the cool tile.
"I have seen a young man come over a few times," Drew said, gauging her reaction.
"OH, you have been watching me, Andy," Sara asked with a high-pitched whine.
"I must admit it is hard not to notice you with your curtains open all the time," he informed her.
"Yeah, he has been helping me study," Sara offered.
He noticed the curtain statement passed right on by her.
"So that is what you call that," he questioned tersely.
"I have only kissed him. He is a nice man," Sara shot back with a smile.
"I'm sure he is. So, he is not the one who hurts you."
"Derek? No, the bad one was a while back, way before I came here. It is a long and sad story, and I won't get into it. I'm sorry I brought it up," she said, looking for a way out.
"I'm not. It bothers you," he told her, sounding concerned.
"No, it is just a part of my past life. Someday, I will have good sex and forget about the bad stuff," she said, looking back at the TV. The credits were rolling.
"Well, if I can help in any way, I'm here," Drew told her, looking serious. "Our sex life was not what broke my wife and me up. Time was, and now I don't work those long hours. Lesson learned, but now there is no one here," Drew told her, looking sad and thoughtful as he looked around the room.
"Why don't you have any furniture?" Sara asked, trying to process all he was saying. He was flirting with her; this handsome, wealthy man was coming on to her, so she changed the subject that should help.
"Lazy. I'm unmotivated and don't know what I want. I have my chair, a TV, and a bed, so I'm content," Drew told her, looking around the empty room. She was correct; he wouldn't have much to offer if he had someone over. The video was finally over, and the TV showed a blue screen.
"So, you're telling me if I come over here, you will show me what good sex is like," Sara asked, wanting to tease the handsome man. He sounded so lonely her heart went out to him. She watched him run his hand through his hair and clear his throat, seemingly embarrassed by his forwardness.
She had made him uncomfortable. She liked that he was a decent man.
"Sure, I can do that. First, how old are you?" He asked tentatively
"I'm 21, very legal," Sara assured him.
"Ok, I just wanted to make sure. Yeah, if my lights are on, come on over. Just take a shower, or we can take one here."
"A shower?" She asked, sounding unsure now.
"Yeah, I see you don't know anything about good sex."
"No, I don't. Which makes me feel stupid," Sara complained bitterly, looking for an escape route again. She needs to go. She had gotten herself in way too deep, talking too much. Teasing a man she didn't even know about having sex. What was she thinking? She was handing him a rape me card. Good lord, she has to learn to keep her mouth closed.
Noting her discomfort, he stood. "Well, like I said, anytime I'll show you. But for now, let's get you home." Drew leaned towards her, and it was evident he would pick her up. He slid his arm around her back, slid his other under her legs, picked her up with barely a sound, and headed for the front door. Carrying her like a child across the street.
"Lesson learned shoes from now on," Drew told her, squashing her tightly in his embrace to get her reaction.
"Yeah, shoes," Sara agreed, enjoying the feel of being carried in his strong arms. He was a handsome man, tall, with dark blue eyes and light brown hair. Kissable lips, she brought her finger to his lips, lightly stroking the upper one as he carried her. He looked down.
"What," he asked.
"I like your lips," Sara told him as he reached her front door.
"That is nice to know," he smiled as she reached for the doorknob. She saw a little red flush on his face. That made her like him. Here he was, this prominent, handsome attorney, and she could make him blush just by complimenting him; what a thrill.
He carried her in, and she pointed towards the den. "Mom," Sara called out.
"Over here, baby," Marge said; seeing her being carried in by this large man, they both jumped up. Charlie came up a little slower, but he was up.
"Oh, she will be just fine. Her feet just got a little too hot," Drew assured them as he sat her down. Noting how old this couple was.
"Mom, this is Andy from across the street."
"It is Drew," he said as he shook their hands.
"Well, Andy here was nice enough to bring me home," Sara said with a sly smile.
"It's Drew, and you're welcome," he told them, sounding frustrated with her. Casting her an evil eye, he smiled.
"Ok, Andy, thanks, and I will see you soon," Sara teased, pushing him away.
"Joyce, I will not answer to Andy," Drew informed her and walked to the front door.
"We'll see," Sara yelled as the door closed.
"What was that all about?" Marge asked while Charlie looked at her feet.
"Oh, his name is Andrew, and he likes to be called Drew. I told him Andy was shorter than Andrew. He prefers Drew, so I teased him with Andy, and now he calls me Joyce. Just being silly," Sara tried to explain their interaction. She had enjoyed him so much. Feeling a little sad, he was gone so quickly. She should have invited him for dinner. She will have to think faster next time. She told them, "He is mighty nice and good-looking too."
They looked at her feet again. "I'll be Okay. The road was hot, but his porch was an oven with those red tiles." She saw the concerned look on their faces. "I know it was stupid, but I spent most of my life barefooted. Where I lived, all we had was dirt and grass. Not this hot concrete and tiles. Anyway, he is a nice man who lives by himself. He is an attorney getting a divorce and has only lived here 2 months," Sara told them.
"Well, you sure found out a lot in that short time," Marge told her.
"I did. He is a talker. Handsome, too."
"Yeah, I noticed that too," Marge teased.
"I'm going to soak my feet in a cool tub," Sara told her and hobbled off. She looked out her window towards his house. She wondered how much he could see from his home when she entered her room. Nothing right now. It was still light outside. She rationalized. She went into her bathroom, turned the cold water on, and sat on the tub's edge, letting the cool water soothe her feet.
What would it be like to kiss that man? He was handsome; would he do what she saw on that video to her? Do I even want to try? She questioned. Kissing Derek is nice. Would it be different with Andy? Her mind went to another Andrew she knew from church. She called him Andy, too.
What if the sex is good? She can't be calling out Andy like in the movies. No, Drew is better. She told herself, swishing her feet in the water. She sat quietly, calling out Drew in different tones, simulating the sex she had seen on TV. The huge tub was almost complete before she realized and turned it off.
So, am I going to do this or not? She wondered.
"I wish I had kissed him," she said in the quiet of her room.
"Kissing Derek was nice, but lord, there has to be more to it than just that." She continued to kick her feet. Thinking about what she saw on the TV at his place was gross. That man's penis was more significant than Jason's was. Thank God he was smaller. He hurt her enough as it was.
Slipping on her fluffy slippers, she went and sat at her desk. It was getting dark when she turned the lights on in her bedroom. A car pulled over to the side of the house. Shifting to see it drive by. She jumped up. Derek was there. Meeting him at her side door, she smiled. She was excited to see him until she saw his face.
"Hi, I have to cancel Friday," he informed her, still looking grim. "I found a part-time job, and it starts Friday night. But I brought you information about getting your GED. They will help you with everything. Plus, the testing," Derek told her, quickly handing her the paperwork and making no attempt to step inside.
"Can you come in?" Sara asked, feeling ultimately rejected.
"No, my brother is waiting for me," he looked back at his car as if someone was in it.
"I'm sorry, Sara, but I have no idea when I will have time for you," he told her, almost sounding sincere.
"No, this will help me. You do what you need to do," she reached up to hug him; he moved back, gave her a limp hug, and left. She stood at the door and watched him drive away. Walking back to her desk, she looked over the papers he brought her. She just got the brush off. The realization slapped her in her face.
"Well, Sara, you have been dumped," she realized. And it's all your fault. You can't keep your mouth closed. That story was ridiculous, and he knew something was wrong. Pictures don't match, and stories don't match. Keep your mouth shut and use Sara Anderson if asked your name." As a tear slid down her cheek, she looked across the street.
Drew's house was lit up, and it looked like he had every light on it. She watched him come to the door and step onto the porch, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked straight at her. She raised her hand in a slight wave. He raised his hand, turned, and went back into the house.
"Does he expect me to come over there?" Sara questioned. There was a tap on her door. "It is dinner time," Marge told her. Bringing the papers with her, she came to the table. "Derek dumped me," Sara told them, sounding depressed.
"What?" Marge asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, he came by and dropped these papers off," she said, dropping the papers on the table. "He told me he had a new part-time job. We won't be seeing each other anymore."
"He said that," Marge asked.
"Pretty much; he doesn't know when he will be able to see me again," Sara told her, dishing out her food.
"I know he dumped me. If he wanted to see me, a new job or not, he would come by after work. He thinks he has an MBA, and I'm fighting to pass the GED. I have nothing to offer him. Not even a decent conversation. I need to work on myself."
"I'm not trying to say I told you so," Pops said.
"I know you didn't like him around," Sara snapped back.
"You haven't even had time to come down from your loss of your child and the trauma your husband put you through. A new man is the last thing you need," he told her.
After a long sigh, she said, "You're right, Pops. This paperwork is for the community college," Sara told him, studying the papers Derek gave her.
"Can she even go to community college without residency?" Mom asked.
"I'm sure if we pay enough, they will take her," Charlie told her.
"I think I only need help with social studies and maybe math. Otherwise, I have it covered. I have taken the practice test a dozen times and have passed them all. Except the Social Studies."
"Ok, we will go over it tomorrow," Marge told her.
Sara did the dishes and went back to her room. Lights were still on across the street.
"Well, at least he wants me," She thought, still thinking about his lips.
Lights started to go out all over the house, but only a dull glow from his den filtered through his front door glass. She wondered if he was watching the video again. It could be men like that stuff.
*
Drew sat in his den, chastising himself. What the hell was he thinking, asking a maybe twenty-one-year-old to come over for sex anytime? He saw the young man stop by; she appeared unhappy when he left. The way she slouched in her chair and looked at the papers, he left. What was that about, he wondered? He couldn't stand the thought of her being upset. He could see everything in her room. She didn't take his remarks to heart because her curtains were still open even after he waved at her. She had no idea how many nights he stood in his darkened study and watched her go about her everyday ritual. He watched her sit on her bed, brush her wet hair, turn out the new lamp she bought with the young man, and leave her TV running all night. She wouldn't know that if he stood to the far right of his window, he could see her in her bathroom now that the RV was moved. How it drove him crazy to know she was naked in there, and all she had to do was walk into her room. But she never did not once. He would have been satisfied just to see her naked once. He chuckled at the thought. 'YEAH RIGHT'
That was before she came to his house, before he touched her legs and carried her in his arms. Now, he had to have her. He was going to dive between her legs and never come up for air. The lights went out, and only the glow from her TV cast shadows around her room. What was he thinking obsessing over this young girl? That's all she was: a girl, a silly one at that.
"Is this what you have become, a lecherous old man lusting over something you can't have? You made your offer, and she hasn't come over, has she? You old fool," Drew grumbled, running his hand over his face. His 5 o'clock stubble slowed the movement. "God, what a fool," he chastised himself. "You must think you're all that. What the hell do you have to offer a 21-year-old." He thought, oh yes, sex is what you offered her."
That hadn't kept Janette home with him. She dumped him for a younger model. What the hell? He was only thirty-three. How much younger did she need? The guys at the office are right; they needed to find someone younger. Someone without education would be unable to sustain their lifestyle if they left them. Sara from across the street was naïve, beautiful, sexy as hell. He could control her, mold her, overwhelm her with good sex, and she would be his. He thought as he watched the video again. Her fascination with the video made her even more appealing. He would do all that and more for her. "God, if she would just come over," he yelled at the video. He was so frustrated.