I sat in the stuffy, dusty attic staring at the picture of a young girl. She was a somewhat attractive girl, although, it was plain to see that she took no pains to enhance her appearance. There was a bare minimum of makeup visible. Her blonde hair was carefully brushed, but no attempt had been made to fashion it into any sort of style that would further highlight her best features. The only adornment that could be seen was a fine silver chain that looped around her delicate neck.
The one thing that leapt out at you was her eyes. They were a very pretty shade of blue. They were definitely a feature that one would remember if they were turned in your particular direction. However, the color wasn’t the thing that made you take notice. It was the intense determination that grabbed your attention. You could almost feel the heat burn you as you took in the fierce resolve that her gaze contained.
These were the eyes of a young lady who was going places in life. No obstacle would ever be too large to keep her from her appointed goal. Hard work and gritty willpower were two virtues that she would have in abundance. This was most definitely not a young lady that would ever stoop to using her looks to get her places in life. No, this young woman was certainly not someone to ever be trifled with.
I smiled to myself as I read the caption beneath the photograph — “Sandra Parker, Valedictorian 1976.”
The book that I was holding in my hands was my old high school yearbook from St. Benedict’s Catholic School. The young lady in the photo was me.
How had I managed to hold on to this old thing for the past thirty-one years? I was not exactly what anyone would ever call a sentimental person. I preferred to use my energies in life to concentrate on the next challenge before me, rather than reminisce over days gone by.
I was very meticulous in my cleaning habits. Every Fourth of July I would cull through the clutter that I had acquired during the past year and have anything was that wasn’t of vital importance hauled away. I wondered how I could have somehow missed the dilapidated box that had held this old relic.
I made myself comfortable amongst the dust bunnies – below the bare light bulb suspended from a wire dangling from the rafters overhead and absently leafed through the old yearbook. I couldn’t help but smile at seeing some of my former classmates that I hadn’t even thought of in many years.
God! We looked so young!
The more that I browsed through the pages, the more I began to study each and every face of my fellow graduate. In the legal profession you learned to watch the eyes of those you were dealing with for any telltale sign of fear or evasiveness that might flicker across their surface. It was a trick that I was quite good at and it had given me an advantage in many situations.
As I looked at the eyes of one classmate after another, I noticed something that almost all of them had in common. In each of their eyes you could see a hint of pure, unadulterated joy. After all, for many of them these photographs were taken during the last really carefree days that they would know. What did high school kids know of the real world of bills and taxes and troubled marriages?
From time to time, I would turn back to my photograph. I searched in vain for any sign of that same light heartedness that was so plainly etched into the other student’s faces. As hard as I tried, I could find no evidence that the young Sandra Parker emitted anything but an aura of raw determination and strong will.
“Was I really that much different from all of my peers?” I wondered.
Surely, I must have had many things in common with them. After all, hadn’t I been elected class president? Nobody would have voted for me if I had been so much different from everyone else.
I flipped to the pages that had been reserved for each of us to gather the signatures of our fellow classmates. Rather than feeling any sense of fond nostalgia as I read through their written offerings, I began to sink more and more into a state of melancholy.
Where were the little personal remarks that friends always scribbled in each other’s books? Where were the pledges that we would always be close friends throughout the rest of our lives? Where were the little inside jokes that no one who wasn’t a part of our tight little group would ever understand?
I was surprised at the paucity of the number of people who had actually signed my book. The ones who had signed had only left little, short notes along the lines of “Good luck at Princeton”, “To the smartest girl in our class”, “Best wishes in the future”, and (worse of all) “You have my respect”.
A knot was forming in the pit of my stomach as the past started coming back to me. Not the conveniently warm memories that I had convinced myself were a part of my past, but the true memories of how it had really been for the young “Sandra Parker — Valedictorian 1976”.
As I once again turned back to the page with my photograph, I remembered how I had always felt left out of so many things that were going on during my high school years. I remembered all of the talk about the various parties that my classmates were attending, the school dances, the sleepovers, and the latest gossip of who was dating who. That type of frivolous behavior might have been alright for the others, but they weren’t the daughter of Bertram and Elizabeth Parker.
My father had been one of the most respected attorneys in the state. He was the best at what he did and everyone knew it. Even after I had begun to garner a little attention in the legal arena, there were always plenty of people that would feel compelled to relate some little story of my father’s exploits upon learning who I was. Most often, these stories were not of the warm and fuzzy variety, but rather, a retelling of how my father had ripped into some up and coming legal hotshot or corporation and left them sobbing for mercy.
My mother had been a competitive figure skater. When I say that she was a skater, I don’t mean that she was a young woman who merely liked to skate. No, she had been to the Olympics in both 1956 and again in 1960 and was one of the most well known female athletes in the entire world at one time. In short, she was probably the most driven person that I have ever known.
These were the genes that had been passed along to me. I can’t honestly say that I was ever aware that I was an unhappy child. I had just been raised to set lofty goals for myself and any goal was a challenge that must be conquered. If my resolve ever faltered for a moment, my parents were there as an example to redouble my efforts and keep me focused.
My mother was often quick to point out that you only had one chance to prepare yourself for the rest of your life. You didn’t get a second chance to go back and do it all over again. You had to get it right the first time.
In today’s permissive society, that may sound like a harsh philosophy in which to raise a child. However, I have never found any fault with it. The intensity that had been forged in me from an early age made it possible for me to graduate from Princeton in just three years. From there, it was on to my law degree and today I am one of the youngest vice presidents and one of only a handful of women presiding over a major corporation in America.
No, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. While I saw the looks of joy in the photos of my former classmates, I wondered how many of them would have wished to switched places with me now. How many would wish to be able to live in one of the houses that I owned? Or to drive one of the luxury cars parked in my garage? Or to be able to travel the world whenever the mood hit them like I could? How many of them had enough money in the bank to live comfortably for the rest of their lives even if they never earned another nickel?
Maybe it was just the atmosphere of being in that dingy attic, but my once steel-like will crumbled for just a moment.
Yes, I could travel the world whenever I wanted to. But, did I? Of course I didn’t. There was always another meeting to prepare for or a crisis that could not be entrusted to anyone else. But, that was just part of being a responsible, mature adult, I rationalized. I always thought there would be plenty of time when I got older that I could indulge my urge to travel.
And, houses? I owned three in total — including the magnificent beach house on Cape Cod that I was presently rummaging through the attic of. In addition to the houses, I also owned three condos in Miami, Los Angeles, and New York City. These were three of the most exciting cities in the whole world. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be just a bit envious of that?
It was a thought that should have lifted my spirits. However, it had the entirely opposite effect on me. I found that my depression only deepened as a tiny voice crept across my conscious mind.
You own houses, yes. But, do you have a home?
A house is merely a structure for keeping the outside world at bay. Other people owned homes. They had loving spouses and perhaps even children. They had families that cared for each other and with whom they could share all of life’s ups and downs. They had a team that they could always count on, no matter what obstacles life may set in their path.
I thought ruefully, that I too had once had that. I had been married for twelve years until the divorce became final nearly ten years ago. My husband, Bill, had been an attorney at a different firm. I had thought that he, of all people, would understand the pressure that we constantly toiled under and the commitment that one must have in order to be successful.
The sixty to eighty hour weeks that I had put in at work had slowly crushed the life out of our marital union. The accusations and recriminations had started slowly, but grew in their frequency with every passing year until we were left with little more than a seething resentment of each other.
I have always been more than willing to shoulder my share of the blame for our failed marriage. I knew that I could sometimes be very demanding and that I didn’t suffer the failings of others easily.
Sometimes? Face it Sandra, you were about as subtle as a steamroller on the best of days
But, what’s wrong with being demanding? Was I supposed to just sit quietly by while Bill and our daughter, Lindsey, made mistakes that they would only regret later in life? Couldn’t they see that it was my way of saying how much I loved each of them?
At least, Bill was a grown man. He had the strength and maturity to deal with whatever perceived criticisms may have come his way. Lindsey was not so fortunate. The more that I tried to help her, the more she seemed to turn away. It should not have come as any surprise when she asked to be allowed to live with her father after the divorce. Surpised? No, but I had indeed been crushed inside when she made her intentions clear.
I tried to schedule as much time with my daughter as I possibly could. I always made sure that there was a special room in any of my residences reserved for her use when we were together. I’ve watched her blossom into a beautiful young lady. Whatever differences I may have had with Bill, I have to give him grudging respect for the marvelous job he did in raising her.
I felt a small tickle on my cheek and quickly brushed it away — fearing that it was a spider or some such disgusting insect. I was surprised that the culprit was indeed not of the arachnid family at all. I looked at the spot of moisture on the back of my hand as if it were an alien creature from another planet.
A tear?
“Sandra Parker, what has gotten into you today?” I asked myself, “Do you think that sitting here crying was going to solve anything? Maybe we should all just sit down and have a nice long cry together!”
I recognized the words immediately as one of my mother’s favorite admonishments. The mere thought of the look that she used to have in her eyes as she towered over me was enough to snap me back to the present. Crying was a waste of time that never did anyone one little bit of good. I set the yearbook aside and started to pick myself up from the floor. That was when I noticed something else that was in the box that had contained that wretched book.
In the bottom of the box was a timeworn jewelry box. It had been many years since I had even thought about that box. I knew what it was immediately. I hesitantly reached for it and lifted the lid. Inside was my old St. Benedict’s medal suspended from its delicate silver chain — the same chain that I had worn in my yearbook picture so many years ago.
My head swam as I fingered the long lost pendant. I searched my memory in an effort to remember what the priests and nuns at our school had taught us about the venerable St. Benedict. I smiled as I thought about the stories they had told us of how St. Benedict had lived as a hermit for many years. Later in life, he had left his self-imposed isolation to found the first seminaries where other fellow hermits could come together and live in brotherhood.
Without even thinking about it, my fingers opened the clasp. I placed the necklace around my neck, and refastened it securely. All of a sudden I felt a certain kinship with the patron saint of our old school that I had never felt before. I wasn’t used to the self-pity that seemed to have taken hold of me during the past hour or so as I had rummaged through this dusty attic. St. Benedict, of all people, might be able to give me the strength to deal with the feelings of loneliness and regret that I was now experiencing.
There’s no such thing as second chances, Sandra.
My mother’s words again came floating back to me. I had long ago given up any belief in the silly superstitions that the good nuns had tried so hard to instill in us. I shook my head that I had almost slipped back into believing those quaint notions again. Yet, I left the necklace in place. It felt somehow comforting as it nestled against the soft skin of chest.
At long last, I brushed the dust that clung to my clothes, snapped off the old light, and carefully climbed down from the dusty attic. The clutter would just have to wait for another day. I suddenly felt completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lay down for a little while. I wasn’t sure if it were the memories that had assaulted me during my excursion in the attic of maybe an allergy to the dust, but I was feeling decidedly lightheaded. I made it as far as the sofa in the living room before I laid down and fell sound asleep.
I awoke some time later. I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep, but I was surprised to see that the sun had begun to set. Rather than being groggy as one might expect, I felt surprisingly good. I got up from the couch and stretched. Something felt different, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I walked through the house on my way towards the kitchen to find something to eat.
As I passed by a mirror in the hallway, I stopped to see if there was any dust still clinging to my hair. When I looked into the mirror I froze in shock! Instead of my reflection, I was gazing into the face of a stranger!
No, not a stranger — I knew this face. After all, it was the same face that I had just been looking at in the yearbook. It was the face of “Sandra Parker — Valedictorian 1976”!
I stood there staring with uncomprehending eyes. How could this be? Was I only dreaming? I slowly lifted a hand to touch my cheek and looked on with amazement as the reflection in the mirror did likewise. I could feel the touch of my fingertips against my smooth cheek. Surely, I wouldn’t be able to feel the touch so clearly if this was only a dream, would I?
Sandra, you never dream
This was true. I only viewed sleep as a necessary activity to prepare oneself for another day of work. I couldn’t recall having a single dream since I was a really little girl. But, if this wasn’t a dream, then what in the world was going on here? I did the only thing that I could think of — I ran upstairs to my bedroom to check the reflection in my full sized mirror.
I don’t know what it was that I was expecting. Maybe, a burst of energy would clear my head and reality would somehow swim back into focus? However, when I arrived in front of the mirror in my room, I was greeted by the same sight. My younger self stood there gazing back at me with the same open mouthed expression that I was wearing.
Another small detail caught my eye. The clothes that I had been wearing when I had embarked upon my attic cleaning assignment now hung on me baggily. I wasn’t what anyone would call heavy to begin with. I stand five foot-four and weight one hundred and twenty-five pounds. However, the waif that stared back at me looked to be the same one hundred and three pounds that I had weighed in high school.
A sudden thought occurred to me. I reached up and grasped the neckline of my t-shirt between my thumb and index finger and pulled it outwards. I lowered my eyes and looked down my distended top.
“Oh, my lord,” I muttered.
I quickly reached down and pulled the t-shirt completely off. My hands flew behind my back and unclasped the now loose bra and let it fall to the floor. My eyes slowly raised to once again look upon the image in the mirror. The sight that I beheld was a vision that any forty-nine year old woman may have fantasized about at some time in their life.
There I saw, captured in the glass, was the image of me at the peak of my beauty. My skin had that fresh-scrubbed glow of vitality that until now had only been a distant memory. It hadn’t yet been ravaged by the consumption of countless fast food meals or been neglected for far too long from the use of gentle body washes and creamy moisturizers.
I slowly placed my hands over my flat stomach and traced my fingertips along the flawless skin. I raised my eyes slightly and took in the sight of my small breasts. They were the same small size that they had been thirty-one years ago, but they stood up proudly, without any of the sag that came from aging. If this was indeed a dream, then I fervently hoped that I would never awaken from it!
Without even thinking about it, I lifted my hands up to cover my young breasts. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I gently applied pressure to the small pink nipples that poked through my extended fingers. I swayed on my feet momentarily at this unaccustomed feeling. I have never been the sort of woman who ever had the time to waste in indulging themselves in such activity. I had always considered self-pleasure to be degrading and the time could always be spent in some other endeavor that would be far more beneficial in the long run.
I suddenly was swept up in the desire to see what the rest of me looked like. I quickly peeled off my shorts and panties and kicked them aside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing reflected back at me! I ran my hands down my sides and over my narrow hips. My smooth legs looked to be quite toned and the tiny thatch of light colored pubic hair was the only contrast to my milky complexion.
“How come I had never noticed just how lovely I had looked when I was a teenager?” I wondered to myself as I stared brazenly at my nude reflection. I turned around and looked back over my shoulder and nearly came to tears when I gazed upon my bottom. Soft, round, and high, there was not even a hint of the sag that I had become accustomed to seeing.
I almost squealed with joy as I spun back around towards front again. My sudden movement made the St. Benedict necklace bounce against my soft skin. I stared at it for a moment. Could this somehow be a tiny miracle being performed by the Patron Saint of school children? I laughed at my silliness in dredging up that old superstition. However, I also made no attempt to remove the necklace from its place around my neck.
“If this is small gift from you, St. Benedict,” I thought, “then I shall be only too happy to accept it for as long as it lasts.”
But, what was I to do with myself? I was on vacation, so I didn’t need to worry about going to work. My usual routine of catching up on emails with various colleagues did not seem like something that I wanted to spend the evening doing. Suddenly having the energy of an eighteen year old was pretty powerful stuff. I had never tried crack or any other drug, but I wondered if this was the same sort of high that addicts experience when they indulged in their practice.
I needed a plan. The only way that I knew how to deal with any problem was to break it down into individual steps and start plugging away at fulfilling them. First of all I would need some clothes. It seemed that my entire wardrobe was now out of the question. Judging from the way that my t-shirt and shorts had fit me, I knew that any of my other clothing would likewise be too large on me now. Luckily, I remembered that Lindsey had some clothes that she kept here in her closet.
I padded naked through the large house to my daughter’s room. I was pleased to note that there was not the slightest evidence of aching knees or my chronically sore lower back caused by too many hours hunched over my desk at work. I rifled through Lindsey’s closet and dresser for something to put on. She was nineteen years old and about the same size that I was now, so I figured that I should be able to find something to wear.
I tried on several different things, but decided upon a pair of very short shorts and a t-shirt that was for some reason cut off at the midriff. I had always been of the opinion that Lindsey dressed in too provocative a manner, but she was a lovely girl and I didn’t feel that it was my business to interfere with the way that Bill was raising her. Unfortunately, Lindsey didn’t keep any bras here at the beach house. I had never before gone without one, but I decided that I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn’t believe my eyes. “You know, Sandra,” I thought to myself, “you were quite an attractive young lady at one time. How come I never took the time to notice that while I was growing up?”
I was feeling so good inside that there was no way in the world that I wanted to spend the evening all alone inside this empty house. I grabbed a pair of my daughter’s sandals and bounded out of the front door and down to the beach. It was now fully dark outside, but there was a bright moon overhead. I kicked the sandals off and walked along the beach in the moonlight — just enjoying the feel of the sand between my toes. It occurred to me that I had owned this house for the past fifteen years, yet I could count the times that I had taken the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful beach on one hand. This was certainly something that I would have to remember to do more often in the future.
As I walked along the shoreline, the gentle waves lapped around my feet. Without even thinking about it, I absently kicked at the water as I practically skipped along. If anyone would have been watching, they might have thought that I was just another young school girl enjoying the beautiful surroundings. If any of my colleagues had seen me, they would not have believed their eyes.
Up ahead I could hear the sound of music and I could make out what looked to be a bonfire. I knew that young people would often have impromptu parties on the beach. They were not permitted, but nobody ever complained about them either. The gatherings were almost never of a rowdy nature. After all, these were the scions of some of the wealthiest families in America. There were trust funds and Ivy League educations in the balance that none of the young people were too anxious to put in jeopardy.
I found myself slowly drifting in their direction. Perhaps if I had taken a moment to analyze the situation, I might have acted differently. I may look like just an average teenager, but there was no way in the world that I would ever be able to blend into a crowd of young people. At times it seemed as if they spoke a completely alien language and what did I know of youth culture anymore. It wasn’t as if I spent a great deal of time watching MTV or anything. However, in-depth analysis was something that was the furthest thing from my mind. It seemed that this new fun loving attitude was winning control of my mind.
I walked over towards the gathering. There were about fifteen to twenty young people sitting around a small bonfire listening to a young man who was playing the guitar and singing. A few people looked in my direction and I thought for a moment that they could instantly see through my disguise. I held my breath for a moment until several of them smiled in greeting and then went back to listening to the music.
They couldn’t tell a thing!
I felt my confidence soar. A couple of the kids scooted aside to make room for me on their blanket and I took a seat with my stomach churning. One young man reached across and handled me a cold bottle of something. I turned it towards the light of the fire and discovered that it was a wine cooler.
I was certainly aware that there were such things as wine coolers, but somehow I had easily managed to never have acquired any personal knowledge of just in the world they were. My taste in wines was of a rather more refined nature. I am sure that any self respecting sommelier would have gagged if he had ever permitted a drop of this noxious liquid to alight upon his tongue. I, on the other hand, was grateful to have something to do with my hands. It helped to keep the nervousness that I was feeling at bay.
Tentatively, I took a small sip from the bottle. It wasn’t the most exquisite beverage that I have ever tasted, but at least it was cool and refreshing. I took a longer sip and that one went down even easier than the first. Who knows? Maybe I could even develop a liking for these!
I turned my attention to my fellow revelers. You could tell immediately that they all came from old-monied families. I recognized some of the designer clothes that they sported and even thought that I could see some family resemblances to long time neighbors. Everyone seemed to have a bottle of wine cooler or beer in his or her hand as they nodded their heads in time with the music. I never had time to listen to music, but the rest of them seemed to know the songs quite well and they sang right along.
I smiled and partook of more of that suddenly delicious wine cooler. It felt wonderful to be accepted by the other young people and I was simply enjoying the moment. I wondered absently if this was what I had been missing during my high school years. Why hadn’t I ever taken the time to do this way back then?
To my surprise I found that my bottle was empty. Almost as soon as I set it down in the sand by my feet, somebody passed me another one. I took it without a moment’s hesitation.
“Thank you,” I smiled — speaking to my newfound friends for the first time.
The girl sitting next to me gave a small giggle while holding up her own bottle and said, “I just love these. Don’t you?”
I laughed right along with her and managed, “I like them more and more all the time!”
My companion turned her attention to the young man playing the guitar. “Derrick sure is something, isn’t he?” she said, “I don’t know which is hotter — his voice or his looks.”
I followed her glance and took note of the budding artist for the first time. He was certainly a striking young man who looked to be in his early twenties at most. His sandy hair caught the glow of the campfire and the moon overhead as he played his instrument for all. I didn’t have the slightest idea of what the song was that he was playing, but I had to admit that his voice was quite pleasant.
I lifted my bottle and took another long drink while I watched his hands move along the stings of the guitar with an impressive dexterity. I noted that he didn’t seem to be showing off at all. It seemed that his playing was the most natural thing in the world.
Off to my side I spied someone striking a match and I glanced over. A young man appeared to be lighting a cigarette, but as soon as the smoke drifted in my direction, I knew that this was not the case. I might not have been of their world, but I certainly had smelled that aroma before! For the first time since settling down on the blanket I began to have reservations about being in this company. If the police were to show up, irreparable damage would be done to the futures of everyone here. I tried to concentrate on the music while I figured out what to do.
Just as I was about to get up and leave, Derrick turned his head in my direction and flashed the most winning smile. It was almost as if a thunderclap went off in my head! Suddenly, it seemed as if there wasn’t another soul sitting around that bonfire. I couldn’t swear to it, but it looked like he even gave me a small wink. I found myself smiling back at him in spite of myself. The moment couldn’t have lasted longer that a couple of seconds at most. However, it seemed that it had lasted much longer.
I looked away shyly, but I could feel an unaccustomed heat permeating my body. Had that young man just flirted with me? I may have been more than twice as old as anyone sitting around that campfire, but in some ways, I was the one who lacked the experience that they all had. I chided myself for being so foolish. After all, wasn’t I the one that could bring other hard-bitten attorneys to their knees with one withering stare? I took another drink and watched the guitarist once again. The joint that was being passed along to my left was a forgotten issue.
It didn’t take long before Derrick again turned his glance in my direction. Again, he flashed the same dazzling smile. Only this time, I was ready for him. I held his gaze steadily and waited for him to be the one to look away. To my surprise, his gaze never flickered. I had the fleeting thought that he was singing just for me as our eyes stayed locked together. I found myself smiling back at him once again.
This young man was good. I thought to myself that if he was considering a career in the legal profession, that he would probably go a long way. We continued to communicate with just our eyes when the guy sitting next to me handed me the joint from earlier. I took it without thinking and was snapped back to my senses immediately. What was I doing?
I almost tossed the offending object away. Then a thought occurred to me — What if this gift that had been granted to me was so that I could experience things that I had previously let slip by? Hadn’t I always wondered about what it was about this stuff that it could get such a grip on so many people? How could I judge a thing if I had never even tried it?
I slowly raised the object to my lips and inhaled. As soon as the acrid smoke hit my lungs, I began coughing. It seemed as though I had to fight to catch my breath. The young girl sitting to my right gently patted my back and was asking if I was alright. I saw a hand reach to take the joint from me, but I shook my head in protest.
Sandra Parker was not a woman that was used to failure. I raised it to my lips once again and took a smaller puff. Through sheer will power I was able to hold the smoke in my lungs with no trouble. I passed the joint along and the group seemed to forget the entire episode. I held the smoke in my lungs for as long as I could. If I was going to do something, I was going to do it right! I went back to drinking my wine cooler and watching the young guitar payer — wondering if our little game was to continue.
I didn’t have long to wonder. Derrick repeatedly returned his gaze to me while he played. I even found myself waiting anxiously for his eye to look in my direction each time. If this was indeed flirting, then I secretly wished that I had taken it up at a much earlier age. Between the alcohol and that other substance (which kept making the rounds) I was beginning to feel a bit bolder.
I was in the act of taking another drink the next time that Derrick looked my way. As I held the bottle aloft, I waved my pinky finger at him. I was turning into such a brazen hussy!
After a while, some of the kids started to get up and leave the bonfire. Derrick continued to play and I found myself talking with more of the young people. Gone was any trace of the nervousness that I had felt earlier. If I gave any indications that I was not exactly up to snuff on certain topics, nobody seemed to notice. Young people could always be more accepting of the differences in people than those of my age group.
I was talking with the girl sitting next to me and her boyfriend when the music came to a stop. I looked up to discover that the four of us were the only ones left by the fire. The others had all drifted away at some point. Ashley and John smiled and said goodnight, then went off into the darkness hand in hand. Suddenly, I was all alone with my young guitarist with whom I had been flirting all night.
Now, here was an eventuality that I hadn’t planned for! Derrick was walking right towards me and I suddenly felt foolish for the way I had been behaving all night. I turned to beat a hasty retreat when he reached out, took hold of my hand, and spun me around. There was nothing rough in his manner. In fact, he was laughing as he did it.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked, “What’s the rush?
My heart was hammering in my chest. What was wrong with me? I had faced more tough attorneys and judges than I could ever begin to count. Early in my career I had prosecuted criminal cases and had been nose to nose with rapists, drug dealers, and murderers. Why in the world was I all of a sudden scared to be here with this young man at this moment?
“I’m sorry”, I replied, “But, I have to be getting home.”
I turned to leave and had even gotten several steps away when I heard his voice once again. “How about giving me a hand loading my stuff back in my truck?” he queried, “Nobody else stuck around to help.”
All of my instincts told me to turn on my heels and go. However, I hesitated for just a moment too long. There was something in the way that Derrick’s eyes were looking at me. I was used to being sized up by an opponent, but I certainly wasn’t used to having a man (even one as young as Derrick) look at me in the way that he was doing right now. I was grateful for the cover of night because I am sure that I was blushing.
“It looks to me like you should find a more charitable group of friends,” I teased. I didn’t move forward to help, but then again, neither did I slip away into the darkness.
Derrick smiled at my remark. Even in the dying light of the fire his shining white teeth and handsome features were clearly visible.
“I’m Derrick,” he said while still holding onto my hand.
“Sandra,” I replied, “Sandra Par-”
I caught myself at the last second. I couldn’t possibly tell him my real name. How would I ever explain that away if he ever started asking around for me by name?
“Well, Sandra Parr,” He said easily, “Maybe you will be the first member of my new batch of friends?”
“I don’t know about the ‘friends’ part,” I answered lightly, “but I might help you this once out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Great!” he beamed.
I fell into step right along side of him. I was suddenly aware that he was still holding my hand in his. I wanted very much to let go, but I didn’t know how to do so without seeming to be rude.
Who was I kidding? The truth was that it felt nice to be walking on the beach while holding hands. Let’s face it – my life to this point hadn’t exactly been filled with too many romantic gestures by members of the opposite sex. Maybe it was the wine coolers or maybe it was that other substance that I had partaken in, but I was enjoying the attention that was being shown to me.
“That was quite a nice crowd tonight, wasn’t it?” Derrick asked as we came to a stop next to what was left of the bonfire.
I had no way of judging such a thing, but in my line of work I was accustomed to responding to statements as if I were an expert on any topic that might come up. I quickly recalled seeing liquor bottle left behind on the beach on many occasions in the past.
“Yes,” I replied, “I’m glad that no one brought any of the hard stuff this time.
I held my breath and waited to see if I had blundered in some way. Derrick just gave a small chuckle and said, “You’ve got that right. Sometimes these things can get a little out of hand when the heavy drinking gets going.”
I smiled in relief that I hadn’t given myself away. I was doing it! I might just get out of this thing without anyone discovering my little secret. I began to relax more and enjoy the simple pleasure of talking about inconsequential things with a nice looking young man while holding hands by the fire. The tension and the drama of a courtroom were the things that I certainly lived for. However, there might just a spot in my life for quieter moments like this as well.
We continued to talk easily. When he would ask me questions about myself, I bluffed along — saying that I was attending college, but was undecided about what to do with my future. I had heard my own daughter say many of the same things when I would try to pry for information from her.
As we talked, Derrick’s voice seemed to get softer. The distance between us shrunk as I would lean in closer and closer to hear what it was that he was saying. It seemed so natural that I almost didn’t even notice when Derrick released my hand and slipped his arm around my shoulders.
If I had been thinking straight, this is the point where I should have put a halt to things. However, the fire had burned down to a few dying embers by now and the breeze from off of the ocean was beginning to give me a small chill. I found myself welcoming the warmth of his protective arm and the nearness of his body.
I was so intoxicated be the intimacy of the moment that I made no objection as Derrick turned his body so that he was facing me. My heart was pounding in my ears as I heard him say, “I’ve wanted to do this all night since the first time that you smiled at me.”
With that, Derrick placed his hand along side my cheek and leaned down to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine so softly that a small moan escaped me. When I felt his tongue touch my lips, I tentatively opened up for him and our kissed deepened even more. My hands moved up as if with a mind of their own to his broad shoulders and we shared a very passionate moment together there on the abandoned beach.
I might have wished that the moment could have lingered on for a great deal longer, but I felt Derrick’s hand eventually slide down to touch my waist beneath my cutoff t-shirt. He pulled me closer and I instantly felt the erection inside his shorts pressing against me. I thought that it was sweet that this young man could feel such lust after just a brief moment.
I had just an instant to acknowledge the delicious feel of his hand along the curve of my exposed flesh when the reality of what was happening exploded in my mind.
What are you doing, Sandra? He’s just a kid!
Reluctantly, I slid my hands down from Derrick’s shoulders to his muscular upper chest. It took all of my strength and will power to gently push him away and break our kiss. I was thankful that he allowed me to put a stop to things before they got too far out of control. We stood there for a few seconds breathing heavily beneath the night sky. Derrick’s hands still felt incredibly nice holding my bare thin waist and if he had pressed his advantage, I’m not sure that I would have been able to offer any further resistance.
My head was swirling and I could see by the look in his eyes that Derrick was also feeling the same avalanche of desire that was coursing through my body. Our hips were still touching. The evidence of Derrick’s need pressing against me was something that I simply didn’t have the will to pull away from. It hadn’t been often in my life that a man of any age had shown such unabashed ardor for me.
At last, I managed to find the strength to croak, “We had better get this place cleaned up.”
Was I hoping that he would acquiesce to my putting a halt to things? Or, did I secretly desire that he would take me back in his arms and let the passion of the moment take us where it would? I couldn’t honestly give you an answer to that question. All I know is that, if he had done the latter, there was no way in the world that I could have offered any further resistance.
Perhaps Derrick was wrestling with the very same question because he didn’t do either thing for the longest time. I noted his flared nostrils and the slightly clouded look in his eyes. The moment seemed to stretch out forever before I felt his grip loosen and we reluctantly separated.
I saw him take a deep breath — as if to clear his mind — and he gave a small chuckle. “You’re right,” he managed, “You just looked so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”
He didn’t know it, but I almost jumped back into his arms right there at his words. I had a certain amount of respect in my profession and had received more than my share of awards throughout the years. Those things were nice, but suddenly they paled in the face of this new accolade being handed to me by this incredibly good looking young man. I wanted to bottle this moment and keep it with me forever.
We finally broke apart. I instantly missed the warmth of his young body pressing against mine. I stood there on shaky legs as Derrick kicked dirt over what remained of the fire. I chanced a furtive glance down at the front of his shorts and noted that his condition could not have been very comfortable for him. I felt more than a little guilty for having allowed him to reach such a stage. However, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I also felt a little pride that I had been able to evince such a reaction in him.
Derrick looked at me sheepishly and said, “I don’t really have all that much to carry. There’s just my guitar and a cooler. It was just the only excuse that I could come up with to get you to stay.”
I was touched by his honesty. I smiled back at him and replied, “That’s okay. A promise is a promise, after all.”
We walked over to where he had left his belongings and Derrick handed me the guitar to carry. I snuck another peek as he bent over to pick up the cooler and was rewarded as a delicious thrill passed through me at the sight of his tight buns beneath his shorts. He stood up and looked back at me before I had a chance to divert my eyes, but thankfully, he was a gentleman enough not to make any mention of it.
“I’m parked just beyond that dune over there,” he said as he indicated the direction with his head.
It was just a short distance to his truck and I felt an unfamiliar uneasiness inside me. I knew that this was a completely silly situation, but a part of me was really enjoying the attention that this young man was showing me. Somehow, I wanted the evening to last longer.
I looked over at Derrick and I flattered myself with the notion that he was feeling the same way. Gone was the easy self confidence that he had displayed earlier in the evening while he had been playing his music around the bonfire. Now, I could see he had become more distracted — talking more quickly. I thought that it was so sweet that he would try so hard to prolong out time together.
Finally, we arrived at Derrick’s truck. He easily hoisted the heavy cooler into the back and reached for the guitar case that I was still holding. I don’t know what came over me, but I was suddenly feeling playful. I snatched the black case away from him and said, “Not so fast!”
I could see the surprised look in Derrick’s eyes at my sudden action. “Since you’ve made me your roadie for the evening,” I said, “I think we should discuss what remuneration I will receive for my services.”
I watched as Derrick tried to hide the smile that threatened to break out on his face as he tried to maintain a business like demeanor. “So, you want to get paid, huh?” he replied in mock seriousness, “That’s the trouble with today’s youth. What ever happened to helping out someone in need just out of the kindness of their hearts?”
“A nice sentiment,” I replied, “But I’m afraid that I prefer cash.” I was turning into such a shameful flirt!
I danced away another step or two with a giggle. I couldn’t believe the way that I was acting. Anyone who had ever had the misfortune of facing me in a courtroom or across a boardroom table would have certainly been shocked to see me behaving like a silly, flirtatious school girl. At that moment, I couldn’t have cared less. I was actually having fun. Surely, that wasn’t such a sin, was it?
Derrick opened the passenger door of the truck and said, “I think that I might have a little something here for you.” I looked on bemusedly as he reached inside and seemed to be struggling to pry something loose. I stepped forward tentatively to see what it was that he was trying so hard to free. I was completely unprepared when he spun around suddenly and took me in his arms.
There was no time to think. All I could do was react – and my body’s reaction was quicker than my mind’s. I let go of the handle of the guitar case and it banged to the ground — the instrument inside making a long and sustained tone in protest. Derrick’s strong hands pulled me to him as my own hands reached up around his neck in a passionate embrace. Our lips opened and our tongues writhed together with a hunger that I had never experienced.
I was a woman who was used to always being in control of any situation. However, at that moment, control was the furthest thing from my mind. An unfamiliar flame burned within me and it was threatening to consume my being. The only thought going through my mind was that I was starving for the pleasure that this young man had awakened inside me.
One of Derrick’s hands disappeared up the back of my cut-off t-shirt while his other slipped down to my petite bottom to pull me roughly against him. I once again felt the bulge of his erection through the material of our clothing. For my part, I was greedily pressing my small breasts against his young, hard chest and moaning against his insistent lips non-stop.
Derrick swung me around towards the opened door of the truck and easily lifted me up to sit on the bench seat. I eagerly moved in to make room for him. He practically flew inside the cab of the truck and slammed the door behind him. We were on each other instantly! Our lips came together wetly and out tongues rejoined their merry dance.
I let out a loud moan as I felt Derrick’s hand cover my breast. It felt so good to be touched like that without the interference of a bra to get in the way. I arched my back to push my breast more firmly into his grip and could feel Derrick capture my erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I had never had the experience of making out in an auto before. I was surprised by how hot it had become so quickly. A quick glance told me that the windows had begun to fog up with our heavy breathing. I had a fleeting thought that anyone could come along without us even knowing it and we would be on display to whoever was passing by.
Derrick removed his hand from my breast and I instantly felt the ache of the loss of his intimate contact. He broke our kiss for the moment as he reached up and removed my hand from his shoulder. The sound of our panting filled the small cab of the truck. My heart began beating even harder as he looked me deep in the eye and slowly guided my hand down to his lap.
“Sandra, you are so sexy,” he breathed, “I want you so much!”
He needn’t have said anything. The evidence of his desire was clearly on display as my hand made contact with the bulge in his shorts. I could see Derrick’s eyes cloud over as I pressed my hand against him. Our lips came together again and his hand once again moved back to cover my breast. We kissed deeply as we let our hands show each other pleasure.
I thought again of the discomfort that Derrick must have felt being in this condition for such a long time. I owed so much to this young man for having shown me so many things that I had missed out on in life. Perhaps, I might be able to do something to show my appreciation.
I reached my hand up towards the button of his cargo shorts. I fumbled with it for a moment or two – then finally felt it give way. Derrick let out a long moan as my fingers next moved to the zipper. He had to reach down and hold the top of his shorts taut so that I could actually pull the zipper down. The sound that it made filled the quiet night air.
As the material parted, I was surprised to find that Derrick was not wearing anything beneath his shorts. The backs of my fingers brushed across the hard warm flesh of his manhood. I was rewarded with another sweet moan from his lips.
After the zipper was all of the way down, Derrick lifted himself up off of the seat and pushed his shorts down over his hips and all of the way off. I was now sitting in the cab of a truck in public with a twenty year old boy who was completely bottomless. This day was certainly not turning out like I had expected it to when I woke up this morning!
I raised my hand to Derrick’s chest and eased him back flat against the seat. “Let me,” I whispered.
Derrick looked at me with wild eyes and barely managed a, “God, yes…” in reply.
I leaned my head against his shoulder and let my hand absently trace across his heaving chest. I took my time and let my fingers find each of his nipples to tease them for a bit. Derrick was having trouble sitting still as I slowly explored the contours of his young body. By the time that I reached his flat stomach, I was worried that he might pass out if his desire grew any higher.
I finally decided that he had had enough. As I looked down at his erect manhood, which was standing so tall and proud, I dropped my hand and took hold of him. Again, Derrick rose up off of the seat as my small hand wrapped around his stiff shaft. It was a moment that demonstrated how much power I had over him at that particular moment. However, power was the furthest thing from my mind. I was totally focused on showing this young man as much pleasure as I possibly could,
I gripped his flesh in my fist and began to slowly stroke him. Derrick’s hips rose and fell with the movements of my hand. When I reached the top of my next stroke, I felt moisture against my fingers. I looked down to see his precum gleaming in the moonlight as it pooled at the tip. Derrick was writhing so much that I didn’t know how much longer he could possibly last as I continued with the movements of my hand.
Just when I thought that he couldn’t take anymore, Derrick twisted in his seat to face me. His movement took his manhood from grasp and I reached for it desperately. I might have recaptured it, but Derrick started kissing me deeply again and I couldn’t see the object that eluded me.
As I once again accepted his tongue inside me mouth, I could feel Derrick reaching down and beginning to stroke my bare thigh. The shorts that I had hijacked from my daughter’s dresser were quite a bit shorter than anything that I had ever worn before, so Derrick had a lot of freedom to explore my exposed flesh.
I had been so intent on pleasuring Derrick that I had not really taken notice of how much my own desires were out of control. I moaned deeply each time that his hand rose up high on my thigh and I was beginning to have my own trouble in sitting still. Just when I thought that I would explode from the mounting tension, Derrick covered my mound through the thin material of the shorts with his large hand.
I really let loose with my loudest moan so far and nearly jumped up off of the seat. Derrick centered the attention of his fingers right over my clitoris and applied the most delicious pressure to that pleasure zone. My body reacted on instinct –my right leg rising up over his powerful thigh while the left opened wide in the opposite direction.
I was on fire! Never in my life had I ever craved pleasure in such an abandoned way. I strained to push my sex against his hand more firmly like an animal that was completely out of control. As lost as I was in this unfamiliar sea of pleasure, my mind barely registered Derrick’s next movement.
Derrick dropped his left arm from around my shoulders to my waist while he removed his right hand from my sex to my hip at the other side. He grasped the thin material of my shorts and panties and tugged them down over my hips. I had to slightly lift myself up to assist him as he bared me from the waist down. The scent from my core filled the small cab as Derrick quickly returned his hand to the place between my legs.
I had become so wet that he easily slid a finger inside me, causing me to squeal in response. I clenched my inner muscles around the intruding digit and tried to pull it deeper inside me. Derrick was all too willing to assist me in my endeavor — pushing his finger in and out of me over and over.
I had broken our kiss in an attempt to get enough air into my lungs. I was panting harder than a locomotive and moaning unintelligibly as the feelings inside me rose to a crescendo. Just as I was about to climax, Derrick once again grasped my hips. He hoisted me effortlessly to straddle him. He tried to lower me onto his erect member, but the first couple of attempts failed. In desperation, I reached down between or bodies and held the rigid staff steady as he lowered me once again.
This time I could feel the bulbous head at my moist opening. Slowly and steadily, Derrick lowered me onto his staff. I moaned as I could feel myself stretching around him. When he was about half way inside, Derrick pulled me down the rest of the way. I cried out loudly in ecstasy and I clung to him tightly with both arms around his neck. Mine were not the only cries of bliss. Derrick, too, growled his pleasure as my wet passageway encased his rock hard appendage.
We stayed in this position for just a few seconds. I reached up and smoothed the hair from Derrick’s handsome face as he looked up at me with such tenderness. Lowered my lips to his and we kissed deeply. Then he used his hands to start lifting and lowering me on his wonderful shaft. I strained with my knees to assist him as we made love in the cramped cab of his old truck.
I don’t know if I had ever been so wet inside. He easily slid in and out of me. The noise of our lovemaking was the most erotic thing that I have ever heard. Derrick raised his hands under the front of my t-shirt and pushed the material up until my small breasts were uncovered. I purred as his rough hands mashed and kneaded the exposed flesh. I lifted my arms over my head as he pushed my t-shirt up high and off of me completely.
I was now totally naked and impaled upon the stiff rod of a young man that I hadn’t even known existed less than three hours earlier. The sheer naughtiness of the situation only served to fuel my desires all the more. I began to feel that familiar build up of tension that signaled that my orgasm was swiftly coming upon me. I ground down harder at the bottom of each powerful thrust in anticipation of the climax that I had been denied for far too long. I was about to reach that glorious point of no return when I saw the headlights of an approaching car shine through the back window of the truck.
The orgasm that was so close only a moment before began to ebb away with the fear that we would be discovered. Just at that moment, Derrick reached up from behind me and tugged on my hair. My head tilted back from the pressure and Derrick attacked the soft flesh of my neck and upper chest with his hungry mouth.
That was all it took! My orgasm came crashing upon me like a force of nature. I pushed down with my hips and ground my sex into Derrick for all I was worth. I was screaming out loudly when the lights from the other car fully illuminated me in the cab of the truck. However, I was so far gone in the throes of passion that I hardly paid it any attention. The only thing in the entire world that my mind could focus on was the intense pleasure that wracked my body over and over as Derrick made love to me.
The only thing that brought me somewhat back to reality was the fact that Derrick was also moaning loudly and straining to push inside me faster. He released his grip on my hair and ground my hips down hard onto his unyielding erection. I wrapped my arms around his head and kissed his face all over as he gave one last deep growl. I could instantly feel his warm seed erupting inside me. I gripped him tightly with my inner muscles and our lips found each other’s again in a long and tender kiss. I wished that this moment could somehow stretch on forever.
As my mind began to slowly clear, I once again became aware of the headlights nearby. I buried my head in Derrick’s shoulder in a belated attempt to hide myself. Derrick stroked my hair gently and murmured, “Don’t worry, they’ll go away.”
Even as he was finishing his statement, the car backed into another hidden spot among the dunes that dotted this stretch of beach. I relaxed as I saw that it wasn’t the police as I had feared, but just another couple looking to find their own share of one of the greatest joys that life has to offer. I had dodged this bullet, but I had made up my mind that I had better not push my luck any further on this night.
Derrick wanted me to stay longer so that we could talk a bit more. However, I told him some story about curfews and how I was already late getting home. I declined his offer of a ride, saying that I only lived a couple of houses down from where we currently were. He kissed me goodnight and I headed back down the beach towards my house.
As I was walking up to the door, I could feel the changes in my body begin to reverse themselves. I didn’t know how this miracle came to be or whether it would ever be repeated. I only prayed that I would be able to take some of what I had learned and experienced forward for the rest of my days.