0 comments/ 106652 views/ 7 favorites Stranger on the Shore By: Tatewaki Susan Richards slid open the door to her walk-in closet and went inside. She peered left and right. Beautiful garments in silk, satin, and lace filled it. They came from the world over, pieces from the Orient, from London, from Paris, from New York. What to wear? She decided on her lavender outfit, a silky, racy number with a demi-bra, a laced-neck corset, satin-accented crotchless panties, and a suspender belt. Of course, she had to grab a sexy pair of ultra sheer lavender stockings to go with her ensemble. Purchased for a single purpose, this outfit remained her favourite one. Gloriously nude, she gripped her prizes in her arms and hustled out of the bedroom and into her study. She'd been waiting for this evening of pleasure all week. Upon entering the room, she threw her clothing onto the white leather divan. She dropped onto it, relishing the feel of the buttery-soft hide on her pale, freckled skin. Her long blonde hair, once golden but now almost white, faded into the niveous leather. The cool material made her heated flesh tingle. Susan donned her finery, meticulously smoothing each piece over the lush curves of her mature body. The dancing flames in the fireplace illuminated the objects in the room. She now could afford to buy the beautiful things that interested her. She no longer concerned herself with money, now that she'd plenty of it. Tasteful oil paintings of nature scenes adorned the cream coloured walls. A few choice pieces of marble statuary stood in the corners of the room. Smaller porcelain figurines decorated various tabletops and the polished marble fireplace mantle. They shared it with the portrait of her two most precious treasures -- Greg, her eldest son, and Trent, her baby, who had died fifteen years ago. Susan poured herself a drink from the pinwheel cut crystal decanter that sat on the oak sideboard. She took a long pull of the well aged Ferreira Port from her goblet. The fiery liquor raced down her throat and warmed her stomach. How she loved the finer things in life. Herself especially. At 60, her breasts still held their attractive shape, with only a touch of sag beneath them. Rosy red nipples stood proudly on their creamy mounds. They peeked defiantly over the frilly upper edges of the demi-bra. As Susan moved, the lace ruffles on the bra tickled her nipples delightfully. Her clear lacquered fingers slid over her smooth belly, which displayed a slight hint of spread. Dancing kept her in great shape. She made sure she stepped out at least three times a week for marathon dance sessions. Being freed from the tyranny of work certainly made one's life easier, she mused. She could pursue her other interests full-time. Another sip of port put her in the right frame of mind. Her excitement mounted. Her bejewelled hands danced over the generous swells of her breasts and down her sides, continuing over her silk sheathed legs. Her sensitive skin burned, her pale skin growing red and heated. She became a mass of tingling nerve endings. She leaned back into the divan, the leather providing stark contrast to her purple lingerie. As she ground her ass into the seat, something poked at her. She reached around and picked up the source of the irritation, the stereo remote. Ah. Music is what she needed. From the ceiling mounted Bose speakers wafted mellow Big Band music. The orchestra played a sultry, laid-backed ditty. It didn't fit her mood at all! She felt like something more upbeat, Merengue perhaps. Latin music always made her wet. She almost changed the radio station, but recognition halted her. She knew the track well. Stranger on the Shore. The corners of her mouth curled upwards in a wistful smile as she remembered the first time she'd heard that song. It had also played on the kitchen radio that evening she threw out the last dinner she'd ever made for her then-husband. That day, she'd thought her life over. Thank God she'd been mistaken. A decade had passed, and she still had many more years to go. Happy ones, she hoped. Was she happy? She didn't know for sure. She thought so. Her life had certainly improved over the years. Susan refilled her goblet from the decanter, and quaffed it down. She rolled the crystal goblet between her delicate, blue-veined hands as she thought about how things had transpired. Acker Bilk's wonderful melody washed over her, his song taking her back to another time and place. Stranger on the Shore "Suze, I have something important to say to you." "We can talk over dinner." "This can't wait, Susan." Susan twisted and untwisted her cotton underwear in her white knuckled grip. He never used her full name. The last time he had called her Susan, he had told her that their youngest son had died in a traffic accident. Things had never been the same since Trent's death. "We can't keep going on like this. Greg is all grown, and Trent is gone. There's no reason for us to continue. Like we are, I mean." "What do you mean,'Continue like we are.' Things are fine." "No Susan, things aren't fine. We live together, but we no longer live. It's not like before. It can't be only me that sees that things aren't good between us." "What are you saying?" "Just what you think I am. I'm leaving. Tonight." "Dinner's ready, John. Let's talk later." "There is no later. I'm leaving right now." "Just like that? Right out of the blue? What brought this on all of a sudden?" "All of a sudden? Christ, things have been lousy here for years." John cleared his throat. "Years. But now, I've finally found somewhere to go. Got offered a job in Hibernia, managing a rig. I'm heading off to Newfoundland. Alone. "What about me?" "You get everything. I don't want our stuff. I just want my freedom." "I don't want things, John. Just you." "Take the things, 'cause you can't have me. I fly out Saturday. I'll be staying in a hotel room until then." "Aren't you even going to take anything?" "There's nothing here that can't be replaced when I get there." His disdainful look told her that John included her in his list of useless things he could leave behind. "But I've made roast beef and scalloped potatoes, just the way you like them," she said. "I prefer mashed. Bye, Suze." John walked out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. Susan heard the front door open, then close. Then nothing. He had gone. Forever. Susan stood still. John's cooling semen trickled out of her, and ran down her leg. It ran out of her, just like her man had run out on her. What would she do with a whole roast by herself, anyway? Stranger on the Shore Susan made her apologies, and left. She didn't remember getting into her car. One minute she sat in Greg's kitchen, the next, in her X5 racing home. She felt so ashamed, she didn't want to glance into her rear view mirror in case she might catch a glimpse of her own lecherous face. She'd disliked Janice because the woman had managed to keep something that Susan had lost so long ago. Her happiness, and her self-assuredness. No, she'd never been self-assured. Susan had known John since childhood. She'd been a marked woman since the age of six. She had always known that she would marry him. They had just finished high school when he had proposed. Neither one of them had ever made to college. By that time, she'd already had two children. John and the boys had been her world. With Trent's loss, her spirit had been fractured. John's abandonment had totally shattered it. The best parts of her had been destroyed. Her abused soul, the bitter dregs left in the empty cup of her worn out body. Nothing more. "Call Regina," she said into the air. She immediately heard a number being dialed. Reggie's line rang seven times. Eight times. Nine. Susan reached for the hands-free, about to terminate the connection, when Reggie picked up. "Hey, Suze. What's going down?" "How did you know it was me?" "Call display. What decade do you live in? I wouldn't have picked up for anyone else." "Oh." Susan felt embarrassed. "Nothing much. Just wanted to see how you were." "That's something. You haven't called me in over half a year." "That can't be," Susan began. "I just talked to you in, well ..." "In May. It's mid-November now." "I guess. Sorry about that." "Oh, I'm not complaining!" Regina giggled. "When I'm screwing someone regularly, I tend to brush aside all my friends too. I'm glad it's working out so well for you." "I haven't done anything like that," Susan confessed. "Well, why the fuck not? Men come with expiry dates, you know. You best eat him up before he spoils." "Expiry dates?" "Yeah. Meat spoils when it's thawed out, but kept refrigerated too long." "What if you're unsure about whether you want to eat it?" "Then why did you pick it up in the first place? Better to leave it in the freezer. You must have wanted it at the time." "Perhaps veal isn't to my taste." "Now we've come to the point. Young beef, is that it? Stop that!" A loud smack sounded over the phone. Someone gasped. Reggie muttered something low, and was answered in-kind. "Reggie, is this a bad time?" "No worse than any other time. Talk to me. Why should Andrew's age bother you?" "He's so young!" "How young? Twenty? Twenty-five?" "Thirty-five." "You're fucking with me. What's the problem?" "I just told you." "Suze. Babe. Listen to me. The guy's practically middle age. He's certainly old enough to get laid. And you're young enough to still enjoy it. So why the angst? Take what he wants to give you before he takes it somewhere else." "But what about --" "The courts say he's legal, Suze. Why shouldn't you? If he was 16, then I'd worry. Maybe." "But how can I let him know how I feel?" "He's a man, isn't he? Leave the door open even just a crack, and he'll barge in all by himself. Trust me." Reggie giggled, her laugh low and sultry. Not at all the shrill girlish giggle she usually used. "If you've nothing left to say, I'm kinda busy. If you want to get your mind off of your young man, why not come around? I have someone here who is willing to care of you real nice." "Thanks, but I can't even handle the man I have. I wouldn't know what to do with a second." "Who was offering you a man? Alissa'd be offended. Ciao babe." The line went dead. Reggie. Susan may not approve of her promiscuity, but she certainly did of her clearheadedness. Susan wasn't 80 years old. She still had at least 20 or 30 years left of life. She wasn't ready to crawl into a hole and die. Not just yet. Dancing with Andrew made her feel alive. Wanton and wanted, all at once. She wouldn't give that up without a fight. So what if he had a few less years on him? Susan caught herself whistling a merry tune as she drove home. She shook her had ruefully. She'd better stop hanging out with Reggie. The girl's lack of morals was starting to rub off on her.