0 comments/ 32885 views/ 2 favorites Maggie Redux Ch. 2 By: Whiff666 It often happened, the runners high, when Maggie had had a workout the day before. As she made the turn out of the park, thinking that was one good thing about this town, she didn't have to worry about getting mugged or waylaid as she ran in the early mornings, she saw Bill Warren three blocks over, hurrying toward her house, flipping folded papers onto the ubiquitous front porches. She smiled at her memories of the boy. He had grown up before her eyes, from before Eddie was shot, tall but skinny, shuffling and stuttering when she spoke to him, into the big, good looking Fullback he'd become. Nice kid, she knew he liked to ogle her, and she enjoyed flirting with him, out there in the open, white kid and black woman, both kind of wishing they could drop down to the carefully mowed lawn and fuck each other's brains out. Somehow, Maggie had assumed the kid was a good lover. It was a confidence when he looked at her, ever since about sophomore year, though she hadn't really noticed for a while, what with being upset about Eddie. But one morning he had touched her on the arm when she had choked up about some memory, without any shame, or fear. Just trying to soothe her, she had thought, but then he started touching her every chance he got. And he didn't have that sheepish look, just a nice smile. She enjoyed it. He probably just had lascivious dreams about her every once in a while, then fucked the shit out of some blonde. She slowed down a little, so she would arrive home just as he got there. At least this kid liked her, as a person, even sweaty, disheveled and nasty smelling. She chuckled to herself as she rounded the corner toward home, seeing him striding down the block, with his little routine, reach back, fold, flip. She'd often wondered why he had kept delivering papers his senior year, going on nineteen, she assumed College next year. His dad was pretty well off, she thought, some sort of Wholesale business. She got to the gate first, and stopped, arching her back a bit so her boobs stuck up even higher. She knew the nips showed like that, too. "Hey, stud muffin. You guys win Friday night?" He grinned, it was a nice grin, cocky, open, happy. Ah youth, she thought. "Yeah, we did, Maggie. Killed 'em." He handed her the paper, and dragged the back of his hand over her forearm. She shook her head, and with her runners euphoria still churning her, leered at him, and took a step closer. "Bill. Whatever are you doing?" She let a coquettish lilt into her words, and batted her eyes at him. She saw him swallow, then reach out to the side of her ribs, under the arms, where she was so wet. He rubbed the flat of his hand firmly there, then holding her eyes, lifted it up under his nose and sniffed deeply. Then he closed his eyes, and sighed. Maggie felt the flush of it down to her toes. Part of her mind screamed "You fool, lettin' him show his puppy love." The other part roared "A nice young stud, bet he's got a big honky cock, would love to jump your bones. Mmmmmm." She felt a pulse in her cunt. Billy opened his eyes and stared at her. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she didn't back away. Her eyes had popped open when he breathed her smell, and he wasn't sure what he should do. It seemed like an opportunity he'd been waiting for all these years. A step toward intimacy, a chance to let her know how much he loved her. He remembered the four by five card with his favorite poem about her he'd been carrying each morning for weeks, sitting in his back pocket. He reached back and whipped it out, slipping it into the paper. "I..I wrote that for you, Maggie" he whispered. She looked down, pulled it out, and read it quickly. Then she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, still holding the poem, and he thought he saw a little tear in her eye. "Jesus, Billy. I mean.." She kept staring at him, her hand still at her mouth, breathing hard, it seemed to him. She took a step backward and walked toward her front door, slowly. His heart sank. Don't go, Maggie. Don't go. She stopped ten feet away, head down. Then he heard her whisper "Why don't you come to the back door when you're finished your route, Bill. I'll give you some coffee." She glanced at him over her shoulder, shyly he thought, and headed down the walk. His face was flushed as he watched her wobble so enticingly, her long legs so fit, the black skin so shiny in the morning's soft light. He covered his nose with his hand, and realized his cock was standing straight out. "If only I could feel thy hand, the firm black texture of it warm. If only I could breathe thy presence, inhale it deeply, Into my soul, and nourish it there. If only I could heal thee, make thee cry for me. Only then, having known heaven, could I die." Maggie leaned back against the door, her eyes closed, breathing hard. Christ, kid's got it bad. Never thought, jesus, writing poetry for me. My fault, my fault, teasing him. But why did I invite him back? She felt the flush in her groin, the heat in her nipples, and knew. She was a horny black bitch. She wanted to get laid, and a strong young stud like Bill would be terrific. Oh shit, she thought. What the fuck are you doing, Margaret? Her mind in a turmoil, she trotted to the back door, looking out as she unlocked it. Eddie had built the arbor leading all the way back to the woods behind, vining roses on both sides, making a walkway. He had loved to drag her out there on warm summer's nights, and they would scream out their passion under the stars. One of their neighbor's had once alluded to the noise, but with a smile on his face. She had never told Eddie, who thought the thick bushes muffled the sounds. She felt the tingling in her pussy again. Bill could sneak in from the woods. Without thinking, she raced into the bathroom, and jumped under the shower. The diaphragm. Where's the fucking diaphragm? She toweled off quickly, and ripped open the vanity's drawer. There, back in the back. She squirted the salve in the rubber cup, then pushed it up inside her. Eddie had turned out to have gotten sterile in 'Nam, the bastard, though she couldn't blame him for refusing to go two years without a piece of ass. She'd needed the birth control for her little escapades from time to time. God, she thought, the thing is ten years old. Well, fuck it. She pulled on the lacy black bra, the matching thong panties, and her white opaque dressing gown. The black underwear on her dark skin would be almost invisible through the soft, nearly transparent material. What the fuck am I doing? She raced over to the kitchen. He was standing there, framed in the screen door, shifting from side to side. When he saw her come hurrying toward him, his eyes widened, he got alert, and she grabbed open the door, pulling him in, mumbling "Shit, kid, somebody could see you. Did you come in from the woods? Think anybody saw you?" He stumbled as he slid over against the counter, while she stared at him, breathing hard. He started whispering "God Maggie, do you know how long, uh, how much, uh, geez...." She threw herself at him. He couldn't remember, later, how they got there. Everything was a feverish blur, her smell different, kind of peach soap. Her hips humping against his. Those big soft pillows against his chest. Stumbling and tripping into the bedroom, ripping off their clothes, his first sight of the black tits he had dreamed of so often, jiggling and swaying as she bent over pushing down her panties. That incredibly thick pussy hair, black and shiny at the bottom where her slit was, though he couldn't see it. Her eyes brightening when she saw his pinus, cooing "Mmm, big honky cock. Bring that baby over to Mama, honey." The taste of her pussy as he felt her mouth swallow his prick down to it's root, her creaming, wet twat tasting dark, almost sweet, with that hint of her sweat. The vague sense of urgency in his mind to eat her pussy better than he had ever eaten one before, licking wildly, searching for a bump, then finding a thick stub that made her jump and moan when he sucked on it. Hearing her almost scream after a few minutes, and her hips jolting against his mouth frantically. Then her soft "Oooh, baby, baby." as she seemed to relax. Feeling her pulling at him, making him twist around so they lay together, kissing, her tongue lighting fires in his groin. His memories got clearer as she pulled him on top of her, and he felt her raspy hand grip his throbbing tool, and sink it into her, grabbing his ass and pulling him all the way in. No complaining, no flinching as he sunk to her depths, her wet mouth sucking on his. "Easy, baby, easy" as he started to fuck. Her mouth's taste, like her smell, like her cunt, earthy, sweet, a dark taste, so unlike Kelly and all of them. She seemed to move with him as he felt swallowed by her smooth skin and her full body, her legs pulling, time standing still. Marveling that he didn't pop, with the thrills so far above any other fuck he'd ever had. Starting to go harder as she became frantic, then feeling spasming in her cunt, then humping even harder back at him, then his nut exploding, arching wildly, heart seeming to thump like a drum. Watching her grimacing, smiling face as she worked her hips, feeling the top of her slit against his boner. Collapsing on top of her, hearing her whispering "Baby, baby, baby" as she smoothed his hair. He was gasping harder than she was, as he became aware his weight was totally on her body, and slipped off to the side, still kissing her cheeks, her ear, smelling her hair, so different, but still somehow familiar from all the years of yearning for her. He remembered clearly leaning down and sucking on one of those big nipples, feeling it harden, feeling the flesh heave around his mouth. He sensed their legs intertwined as they lay on their sides, a thigh undulating gently against his soft, wet tool. He murmured again and again to her "Maggie, Maggie, I love you." He remembered hardening again as she stroked him, hearing her cooing softly "Oh Billy, Billy, good, here it comes again, mmmm baby, Mama wants another taste, honey, Mama needs her baby." Entering her gently, still on their sides, losing himself, until, much later it seemed, he vaulted on top of her, groaning and climbing, and filled her body with his cum again. He had a vague idea she had gotten off a couple of times, but wasn't ever sure. Her helping him dress, smiling, kissing him, sometimes softly, sometimes with wide open mouth, noisy and sucking. Telling him to come back when he could, through the woods, "Be careful, honey, so no one sees you." Staggering down the green vined walk into the darkness of the forest, tripping over a vine, hearing her call quietly "You okay, Bill?" Nodding, brushing himself off, and heading for home. Halfway there, stopping, wanting to go back and ask her if he had been a good lover. Wanting to tell her he loved her again. Jenny heard Billy come in from his paper route, late, and then the shower running. That was strange, she thought, he usually just went to the bathroom, then straight to the kitchen to eat. As she heard him go past her door, she peeked out to watch his back going down the stairs, and snuck into his room. Clothes were strewn wildly around, she found his jockeys, and smelled the crotch. Jesus Christ, she thought. It's her smell. Maggie. Oh my god. To Be Continued... Maggie Redux Ch. 3 She sat listening to the minister drone on, something about God's retribution for sin, a prelude to an appeal for a larger target for the annual fund drive. Church has a goddamn trust fund that could build a whole new building, she thought, and he wants us to beef up the pitch. Suddenly it seemed so dreary, so suffocating. She wanted to run out the door, rip off her clothes, and go singing down the street. She felt so happy, so well fucked. His weight. That was a surprise. Heavier than Eddie had been, probably all that kid's muscle from working out, trying to bulk up for football. And he had held off so well, maybe he'd gotten laid the night before, but so what? He got it up again nice and quick, and she had three great cums the second time. Man, had she been horny. Lordy, she wondered, what am I getting myself in for? She thought through his age, and guessed his mother was probably a little younger than she was. There was a picture in her mind of a dowdy, heavy set woman with a prim, prunish face. As the minister began discussing who would be in a position to increase their tithing, she was mostly wondering how to keep it a secret. She didn't think it was illegal, because he was eighteen, though she wasn't exactly sure of the statuatory rape ages here. It was terribly risky during the day, for all she knew one of the neighbors might have seen them today. She thought it would be easier at night, and she'd always kept her windows drawn in the kitchen and bedroom anyway, so all she had to do was draw the blind on that one in the hall, and he could get to her bedroom without being seen from outside. But a small part of her wondered if maybe she was just another notch on his gun, just a bragging piece of tail. No, no he had kept repeating he loved her. And that poem. But how could it end? He'd get tired of her, and want to tell someone. Maybe he'd try to get her to put out for his buddies. Well, fuck that. It would be his word against hers, and he had to think about keeping straight so he wouldn't have a problem getting into school. Shit, don't look for trouble, Maggie. How did she feel about him? It had been very tender, very sweet. He really tried, and made up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. A little coaching and he'd be a good cunt eater. She knew he had been surprised by her clitty. Went wild down there, she had to pull him away. Damn, it was nice to feel loved again. She ended up on Mrs. Slocum's committee, and they put her in charge of the Police Department. Surprise, surprise. Just once she'd like to see what some of those honky businessmen would do if she came in their offices, crossed her legs, flashed a little tit, and asked them for money. Alma chuckled as she drove them home. "Wha' fo we show up, dey give us da same job evy' year." It was always fun to drop into the old funky talk when they were together. "Yo sho is quiet, baby. Sumpin on yo mind?" Maggie smiled and grunted "Tinkin da same ting mahself, honey. Honky ho's, playin da sho tings. Ahh, fuck it." Waving goodbye, as the car pulled the hundred yards down the street to her small brick two story. It was never a sure thing that Alma's old Buick would make the round trip, but she always insisted on sharing the driving. Tonight was the first night in a long time that Maggie hadn't worried about it. She flipped off the porch light as she locked the door, and went toward the kitchen for a beer. Man, she'd sleep well tonight. But even before she got there, she heard a gentle rapping. Oh jesus, he was at the back door. She didn't turn the kitchen light on. Slipping the door open with the safety clasp still in place, she whispered "Anybody there?" His voice quavering, he answered "Hey Maggie, uh, it's me." She was surprised to feel her stomach flip, and a thrill run down her spine. Ah youth, she thought as she opened the door, pulled him into her arms, and pressed against him while closing the door again. "Hey, baby. Back so soon? Didn't I wear you out this morning?" In the dim shadows his face showed a flinch of fear. "Ah geez, Maggie, I, well, I mean I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. I mean, we don't have to, you know, do anything, if you don't......" She smiled and put her hand behind his head. He felt tentative when their lips met, but as she opened her mouth, sucked, and began tonguing him, he relaxed, and pulled her tight. She felt his cock hardening. He smelled nice and clean, and had a fruity cologne on. Her mind jumped to the half empty bottle of musky stuff Eddie had always used, and she giggled with the thought of having Bill wear it. Wonder what other people would think if he wore it all the time? She felt nice and warm, surrounded, protected in his strong embrace. You couldn't tell he was white, or young, in this light, she thought, he was just a man, wanting her, needing her body. She relaxed to the kiss, letting it go on and on. Finally, she pulled back, breathing hard. He had the look. Hot, horny, ready to go. "Reach behind and unzip me, Bill. This ol' dress makes me look like an old woman." He grinned as he fumbled around. "Oh Maggie" he groaned. She realized she had been thinking this might happen when she found just her short black slip all she had put on. No bra, no panties. She still had the diaphragm in. A surge of lust ran down her stomach and into her pussy. Her young stud. Her hot cunt. She grabbed his ass, and pulled him into her. He groaned, nicely, she felt, making her feel wanted. Again. Mmmmm. Billy Warren thought he was in heaven. Her smell was kind of a combination of this morning after she showered and her sweaty, after run odor. He felt her doing something with one hand, and when he pulled slightly away, realized she had let her hair down, framing her face, smiling as her hand dipped down between their bodies, and grabbed his pulsing cock. He felt excitement start to build, and humped gently into her hand. She giggled, and breathed "Easy honey, no hurry now, c'mon." As she pulled him toward the bedroom, she stopped him and pulled a blind down on one window. As they entered the dark room, just a bit of moonlight slanting in one window, she spoke right out loud. "Now baby, lets just take our time, okay? You were out of your mind this morning, I mean I know how it feels, I felt it too, but we're gonna fuck, you don't have to worry." She dropped into a negro jargon. "Yo' gonna get a piece o' my black ass, honey. Strip yo' fine se'f fo' action, stud muffin. Ah's gonn git some candles." He watched her lush body, just a shadow, really, as she rooted in a drawer of the dresser, found something, then placed some candles from a little shelf by the door on the bedside tables, and on the dresser, lighting each with the butane flame. Then she flipped the lighter back into the open drawer, and stood at the bottom of the bed, eyeing his now naked body, with the tool straight up, the dim light just enough for him to see her in soft relief. Crossing her arms, she pulled the black slip up over her head. He groaned when he realized she was nude under the frilly thing, the huge triangle between her thighs blinking in the candlelight. She cupped both hands under those huge tits, and pumped them, the jiggling barely visible, as he heard her chuckle. "Hell, honey, they're big and heavy, an' I'm damn near fifty. So they sag. I work my pecs, y'know, but still...." He whispered into the soft darkness "Oh Maggie, they're beautiful, you're beautiful, I love you, oh Maggie." He could see a big smile on her face as she crawled up between his legs. Then her head dropped down to his pecker, her hair tickling his thighs, and swallowed it. All the way. Right down to the hair. He sucked in a breath, the image of Kelly with just a couple of inches in her mouth, thinking she was so brave, not really enjoying it, blinking in and out of his consciousness. He heard and felt humming as she swallowed, and he humped up, grunting. She released him, and wiggled up beside him. Her kiss reminded him of the morning, open mouth, sucking his tongue into her, hers lashing around, as he grabbed one boob. God it was soft. She moaned "Oh baby, baby, look, get down there, eat my hot pussy now, get me wet honey. You can play with my titties while you do it. Now listen, jus' cover it, and suck light. Yeah, yeah. Stick your tongue in there, pump a little, ummm, yes." He felt the squeezing of his tongue as he tried to move it, in and out, fighting with her muscles, yet feeling it begin to ooze, tasting more of her, lost in want for her. "Now lick up to that clit, baby, just flick it, y'know, just light, nice, nice, now suck it Billy. Yeahhhhh. Suck it baby, oh baby, oh baaaaaaaby." Her hips were gyrating, in small, intense spasms. A flood of cream filled his mouth. Her nipples were like nails in his palms as he kneaded them. She humped for a couple of minutes, then relaxed, her hand rubbing the back of his head as she fussed with the pillow that had gotten out from under her head. "See, baby, that's the way. You start out gentle, then get me off with it. Makes me wet as hell, and anyway I love it. Now c'mon baby. You still hard, oh yeah, still good, go ahead, need help, nah, there, don't be shy, honey, fuck that nigger twat, pump, baby, pump." He winced when she used that word. Somehow, he'd always been ashamed when he thought of her with that word in his mind. She laughed. "Hey baby, we're lovers, honey, and nasty words are part of the fun. You can call me a nigger whore, or whatever. Long as you fuck me good, honey. Long as that big cock fills Mama's cunt." There was a long pause as he stroked, trying to be smooth, pressing hard when he bottomed, wanting to make her happy. They kissed, groaned, humped. Then her voice filled his heart as he realized his cum was near, whispering "And you do, baby. You fill your hot Mama's soul. Ahhhhhhh." It was actually the first time he clearly remembered getting off with her. She went nuts under him, squirming and wiggling, but her hips always keeping the rhythm of their bodies, watching his eyes, almost seeming to time it so she went off as he did. As it happened, that wonderful explosion, draining his whole body into her, somehow, her eyes lidded, he felt hard, urgent bumps of her hips, and she nearly screamed. "Biiiiiiilllllleeeeeee." As he collapsed on her, trying to roll off, but feeling her hands hold him there, hearing her hard gasping, feeling wet as hell in his groin, that lassitude his orgasms with her seemed to create made him swoon. He loved that word, swoon. All the poets used it. Now, he knew what they meant. Losing yourself in your lover. Going blank. His mind started to write a new poem. Jenny bit her lip to keep from screaming as the two fingers under her skirt punished her cunt. That's so hot, she thought, as her orgasm, that seemed so trivial compared with what she had just seen between Maggie and Billy, washed over her. It was so sexy, peeking under the window blind, on her tiptoes here in the dark. Oh my, I'm leaking again, she thought, pulling up her panties that had the little "soft days" menstrual pad in the crotch. But she kept her hand down there, waiting for her cream to stop flowing. It took a long time. - Interlude - She sighed with pleasure as she listened to his deep, exhausted breathing beside her, feeling the thick product of their love making leak down her ass onto the sheets. She was laundering sheets every other day, they always made a mess, it seemed. Friday night, she thought. He had been so excited, the winning touchdown, Maggie, a flat pass and I carried three of them in with me. Fuck the party, I need Mama's sweet lovin'. She'd been here before, the wild...exciting urgency of a new love. Even once that year Eddie served in Pakistan, the Wall Street broker, burned up the railroad on weekends for six months. Now there was a cock. But he gave up the talk about leaving New York when she told him she wouldn't leave Eddie. It turned out they didn't have that much fun, except in bed. Still, she felt a little edgy. People would notice he wasn't at the party, especially if he was the hero. He'd be questioned, there'd be talk, it'd be different if he wasn't here every night. Her body felt like a million dollars, she thought there was an actual physical effect from being so satisfied, her times were faster in the morning, she had done fifteen reps on the ab machine, her best ever. She knew there was a bounce in her step, could hear the lilt in her voice. Alma had tried to bring it up the other night, and she'd jived about a new vibrator. Billy was so giddy. Some of the poems were so sappy, swooning for christ's sake. What was that shit? Yet she could see he was getting better at it, less rigid about the lines, more feeling, getting the idea of a syncopating rhythm, she had made him recite one as they danced that time. His latest was better, he had read it to her just last night. "Easy whispers in the dark, warm, happy glow in my heart. Easy touches, soft, sweet, feeling home. Knowing beauty, knowing comfort, knowing you. A lingering wonder at this sense of oneness. Joy, the filling of a void I never knew was there. I love, and so I am." Still sappy, but sweet, and sincere. It was tempting to encourage him, but poets don't make any money, and besides he didn't seem to have the intellectual staying power that sort of career would require. It always made her feel good, though. No one had ever written poetry for her before. A little late in the day, Maggie, but better late than never, huh? She was startled when she felt a tear run down her cheek. To Be Continued... Maggie Redux Ch. 4 She sat stiffly in her rocker, slowly relaxing, feeling the tension gradually leave her body. Really, it hadn't been that bad, and she thought she'd gotten through to him, that wounded look men get when you tell them something they know is true, but won't admit it. Plus, she had known it was coming, been almost rehearsing for a couple of weeks. Bill had talked about their questions. But you couldn't be sure, and sitting here now, she was afraid. Not terrified, just concerned that he'd do something stupid. It wouldn't make any sense, but she'd hate to come between Bill and his parents. Plus, once the gossip got started, a lot of people would get hurt. He'd come to the front door, ringing the buzzer, and she hadn't recognized him. "I'm James Warren, Mrs. Thornton. Billy's dad." Her surprise had nearly exploded, as she took in the slim, modest looking man, no rim glasses, nearly bald, then saw the resemblance. Was this what his son would look like when he was fifty? But she took a deep breath, straightened her back, making her almost as tall as he was, and invited him in. She gave him some coffee, as he stuttered about the weather, then she sat down in the rocker, opposite him. "Uh, Mrs. Thornton, uh, I gather you've been....seeing quite a lot of my son." He took a deep breath, probably ready to go on with a speech. She could remember her first words very clearly. "No, Mr. Warren, we haven't been seeing each other. We've been making love, mostly every day now, for two months. He has a schoolboy crush on me, probably intensified by the fact that I may be the only black woman he's ever known in this white bread town of yours, but that's not my concern. I care about Bill, Mr. Warren. Very much. He's sweet, daffy, nuts over me, and I assume you know my situation. If it was as simple as my telling him to go away, I would. But it's not that simple, Mr. Warren." She had gotten up then, starting to pace, feeling her anger rise. "Somewhere along the line he's gotten the feeling his family only cares about him for his football, his good looks, the light he reflects on them. I don't go to the football games, don't worry about whether he acts properly, goes to Church, none of that. I give him love of a special kind, Mr. Warren. I mean, you aren't stupid, I don't think. You're a typical honky parent, but not stupid. Do you know he writes poetry for me? Do you know he has made almost all his friends mad because he never sees them anymore? And that he doesn't care, all he wants is to be with me? Have you ever, ever felt that way, Mr. Warren?" She had stopped a moment then, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry I said that. It's just, he feels so intensely, and he can show it with me, and nobody else. I don't judge him, except in bed." She had paused then, for effect. Then she gave him her broad, afro smile. "He's very good in bed, Mr. Warren. I have some experience, and I can tell you he's going to make some blonde very, very happy one day." He'd damn near started to cry when she said that, probably realizing she was way ahead of him, but maybe feeling a little ashamed of the accusations he had intended, some threat possibly, or just how little he really knew his son. Whatever, she knew then she had him back on his heels. "So, Mr. Warren, here's the deal. I'm not going to drag him down to the Limelight and fuck him on the pool table. I'm going to keep making sure he's careful, so as not to embarrass you. I'm going to keep helping him with his schoolwork, though he's as helpless with Math as I am. I'm not gonna get pregnant, I'm not gonna marry him, I'm not gonna disturb the social structure of your town. But I'm going to keep seeing him, Mr. Warren. I'm going to let him jump me as long as he wants to. Because he likes it, and so do I. And we aren't hurting anyone, and won't unless you do something stupid. Your family, your son will be the losers if there's trouble. I'm just a dumbass nigger who can't help herself." She remembered her anger as she continued. "So don't fuck with me, Mr. Warren. Ruin your son, your family, that's your perogative, I guess. But you better believe Maggie Thronton can take care of herself. I'll have my head up high while you all hide in your big ol' mansion on the hill." She had wanted to go on. She had wanted to beg him to talk with his son, to find some love in his heart. To control his wife, who was the likely source of the worst possibilities. But the look on his face had stopped her. He was hurt. But there was...respect in his eyes. She was not what he had expected. She had seated herself carefully beside him, not touching, but near enough so she was inside the shell he had around him. "Look, Mr. Warren. I care about Bill. I do. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. He'll get over me. I won't break his heart, he'll break mine. But I want him to have a good life. He'll learn from this. Be careful. Talk to Mrs. Warren. I'm sure she's fit to be tied. I'm just the one who happened to be there when he needed me, not a substitute for her. Tell her to come see me if she wants. But tell her she isn't going to change my mind." Now, as she sat there going over it, again and again, the coffee cup cold in her hand, the look in his eyes came back to her. A little fire there, probably her taunt about his wife charging him. Wanting to impress her. There had been more she had rehearsed, but she had decided it was enough. They both rose. He took her hand, just the hint of a smile on his face. "My kid has always been lucky, Maggie. You're...look, next time we meet, call me Jim, would you? I can see myself out." Billy felt his heart tripping, staring at his suddenly unfamiliar father. Holy Christ. They were standing on the sidewalk, the chilly wind blowing from the north making both their noses red. Dad must have waited for me, he thought. He's late. His mind started to function again. "...and she's a lovely woman, Bill. Your mother really has come to terms with it, so I'm anxious to entertain her. Your mother doesn't want to go down there, but wants to meet her. So, do you think it'll be all right, Saturday night?" He was asking Maggie for dinner. He knows. How the fuck did he find out? Why is he so fucking calm. And mother. Migod. Just then, Jenny came skulking down, making a wide swing around them. He caught her looking guiltily at him. Oh shit. He hadn't seen Maggie this morning, she ran down at the gym during the winter. She'd been on the rag since Monday, but he had planned on tonight. This made it even more important he go talk to her. He caught up with Jenny, grabbing her arm. She broke out in tears, sobbing "I'm sorry, Billy, they made me tell 'em, they did. I couldn't help it, I'm sorry." What the fuck was all this craziness, he wondered. He turned around, and almost bumped into his dad. "It's true son, we did practically force her to tell us. Your mother and I were just talking about how anti-social you'd become, and she snickered. Look, son. We're old, but we aren't stupid, okay." Then, his dad did something he never got over. He grabbed him, and hugged him. His dad whispered in his ear "I've met her, Bill. I've met her. I know, I know. You've always been lucky, kiddo." - Interlude - The tears rolled down her face now. Unrestrained, more happiness than anything else. Except for Jenny, who sat nervous and tense throughout the meal, head in her plate, it had been easy, relaxed, very pleasant. Sophie Warren, shit what a name, had been a surprise, gay and a little tipsy, toward the end. Bill had eventually relaxed too, and they had a good time. A good time. The real subject had never come up, but there hadn't been the tension she had feared. She hadn't realized how much she had missed adult company, wide ranging sharing of opinions, carefully, of course, but they had seemed genuinely interested in her ideas. They'd even had a glancing conversation about race. They weren't stupid. They were open, trying to understand. Sophie particularly would watch Bill's face when Maggie talked. When he grinned at something she said, Sophie's eyes would shift to hers, and then dart back to her son. Maggie realized what it was, after a while. Love for him, unrestrained, resigned to this offensive thing, yet willing to accept, even trying hard to embrace the feeling of it. He was her son. Nothing else mattered. Maggie felt a deep respect, as she watched it. Confusion, fear, repugnance. Nothing got even close to the love. At the end of the evening, she imagined the two women joined somehow, in caring for him. He hadn't wanted to make love tonight. He just wanted to cuddle there, a winter storm raging outside, his dad's car sitting in the driveway. She set the alarm for three, so she could get him gone before first light, back to his paper route, reality, the humdrum daily routine. She knew now how it would end. It was true, what she had told his dad. He would break her heart. To Be Continued... Maggie Redux Ch. 5 She wished there were steam, clouds of white smoke, like in the movies. Who ever heard of such a thing, summer football camp, even for a freshman who would be "red shirted", whatever the fuck that was. She had told him they would say goodbye last night, their bodies joined, the now familiar candles sputtering out their flame in the early summer heat. Sweating like pigs, both of them. Over her back, playing with her tits. He loved that. Watching their undulating shadows, trying to memorize the moment. She heard it in his moans, "Maggie, Maggie, I love you." Yet closure there, she thought. Relief. She didn't want to make a scene. But as two o'clock approached, she couldn't stay away. She stood at the far end of the wooden ramp, the three passenger cars just sitting there, five minutes and away he went. Watching the three of them hugging him, she could see Sophie's tears. Of course. It was a rite of passage, an ending, the beginning for him, the end for his mother. And the end for Maggie. It had been a helluva two weeks. Eddie turned down, his heart starting to fail. The call from the hospital was a new voice, unfamiliar. "Mrs. Thornton? This is Josh Newcome, Surgeon General for the State. We would like to have you come out and consult with us, Mrs. Thornton. Your husband's condition has worsened. We're a little concerned. How would two o'clock be?" She had worn her widow's dress, the baggy, heavy black cotton thing. The minute she met Josh Newcome, M.D. she'd regretted it. He had a nice white mustache, but a thick head of salt and pepper hair, tall, slender, and had that soft chocolate skin like Eddie, a smile that let her know he lived in a white world, but knew a hot black Mama when he saw one. In the first five minutes they met, he managed to work in that he was divorced, had to sign off on letting Eddie go, didn't think there was any hurry, that Eddie wasn't in pain, and maybe he could counsel her over dinner tonight. She wore the red, low cut strapless, and the push up bra. It fit snug, and he kissed her goodnight, breathing "Shit Mama, how you gone so long like this?" As she turned and shut the door, she whispered over her shoulder "Ain' been easy, studly. See ya tomorrow." They had let Eddie go the next morning, and Dr. Newcome revised his travel schedule to stay in town for the burial. The day of the funeral had been a nightmare. All the cops wanted her to sit with them, all the Warren's came, and Josh was trying to be in charge. She finally backed him off, mumbling "Look, honey, Ah'll see ya later. I know these folks. Let me do it." She had talked nicely with Jim and Sophie, and Bill kept stuttering, not knowing how to act. Jenny just kept staring at her, with that goddamn puppydog look of hers. She finally ended up with Eddie's old partner, doing her best to look grieved, while she cursed herself for feeling relieved that Eddie's long ordeal had finally ended. On top of everything else, her fucking period came early. And she had a hot flash. She drove Josh from the downtown rental car center to the airport that afternoon. He nuzzled her ear and cupped her tits on the way, and made her promise to call him the minute she got the house sold. It turned out he was two years younger that she was, and she gave him a blow job in the airport parking lot. She figured it was the last time she'd ever see him. He had a nice cock, but nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he had been awfully kind, and had a nice sense of humor. Now, he was calling her every night. "Hey, baby, how ya doin'? Look, can ya come down for the weekend? Got me some tickets to the Rolling Stones concert. We can stay in the city, y'know." She went, but just over the Saturday night. He turned out to be hell in bed, stayed up through three nuts. It was only later she found out he used some drug. She told Bill it was a visit with an old friend. All that time the damn summer camp was looming over them. Every night felt like the last, and Bill seemed to have trouble pinning down the day he had to be there. She finally figured out that he was thinking about not going, even though it was a condition of his scholarship. She pretended it was inevitable, and thought she had it under control until today. At one o'clock, she knew she had to go down there, to see him one last time. He finally realized she had come, just as the other students started hopping on the train. He ran down to her, then stopped with just a foot between them. His eyes were red, and tears were running down his cheeks. She couldn't help it. She lurched into his arms, pressing to him, crying herself. He choked "Maggie, Maggie, I'll always love you. Always. Whatever happens. Write to me, okay? I'll write to you." The whistle blew, she heard his dad yell "Billy", and he was gone. He had pressed another four by five card into her hand. "It will never end, nor fade, nor wither. In my heart there is a room, inviolate, unfillable, intolerant of any other love. Time will go on, no human truth can long endure. But in that special place, eternity is only a moment." Oh shit, she thought, through her heart's pain, how sappy is that? - Epilogue - The tin voice from the intercom tore her out of a deep reverie. The two cards on her lap were all she had. He had never offered, and she had never asked for, the book with all the damn poems in it. She did this more and more lately, drift into some past event that suddenly became real, at least for a while. "Mrs. Newcome, Mrs. Newcome. Got a package here for you. Can I bring it up?" She heaved out of the rocker, stumbled slightly, and got to the little black box. Pushing the button, she rasped "Yeah sure, Pedro. Bring it on up." The sneaky little wetback. Always looking for any excuse to come and look around. It was a book carton. She didn't recognize the sender, some publishing house, but the thing was pretty heavy. She put on her glasses, grabbed the opener from her little desk, sat down and struggled with it. This kind of shit is gettin' harder, she thought, where does the goddamn time go? She started crying the minute she pulled the thick hardbound volume from the tight cardboard. "Shadows and Memories". Short stories, by William Warren. She looked on the back inside cover, tears streaming down her face. Christ, he's going bald, just like his dad. She opened it to the dedication page. "To Maggie. The room is still there." Her husband found her asleep, that night, with a book and two yellowed filing cards hugged to her ample bosom. The pillow was wet under her head. But she was smiling. Must be a sweet dream, he thought. It was.