Malcolm
I grip Mandy’s hand tighter as she leads me through the park. As we pass other people, I find myself looking for students from my school or players and parents from the team. The ballfields in the distance are still full of players and spectators, but the open area and playgrounds are beginning to clear out as nighttime settles, the sky steadily growing a richer shade of red as darkness slowly overtakes the blue.
The middle-school soccer team that I’m coaching is actually doing very well. When I’m not preparing for my classroom or talking to—or daydreaming about—Mandy, I’ve been spending my time learning everything I never knew about soccer. Thankfully, I have great help. Rita Sanchez and her husband are very nice and more than willing to help me learn the finer differences between hockey and soccer. For example, there’s no penalty box in soccer, although, sometimes I think it would be a good idea. It also helps that Rita and I share a similar philosophy about the real goal of children’s sports. Instead of emphasizing the outcome, we both agree that instilling a love for the game is more important. Even with that philosophy, I’m happy to report that we have a winning record. More important, every student on the team plays. It’s about teamwork.
While the athletic director knows my history with the Lightning, to the kids on the team, I’m just the coach. I like that. I like getting to know the players without them giving me a status I no longer deserve. Coaching the team and teaching my class feels a little like my rookie year, needing to prove myself as worthy of my new titles. It’s funny how in hockey I was old and now I’m young again.
Holding Mandy’s hand is like that…a new start at life...a new life in all aspects, and I’m enthralled.
Still taking in the multitude of faces, I realize that I’ve never before lived in a town where I might run into people I know. While I like it, I’m not sure I want anyone intruding on the small sliver of time I get to spend with Mandy.
I chuckle to myself, thinking about the last time we were here, parked near the back of the property. Thank God we didn’t run into anyone then.
As we move farther and farther from the car, I lean toward Mandy and whisper in her ear, “Are you taking me to the rear parking lot again?” Though I’m partially teasing, I wouldn’t complain if her answer is yes. “It might have been better to bring the car, but I do have a blanket in the basket.”
“Nope,” she says with her magical giggle. “You promised me a picnic. That means the blanket goes on the ground and then there’s food in that basket, not a front seat and...”
“Fucking?” I ask, lowering my voice even more. Her cheeks bloom and rise as they fill with pink. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, giving me great access to her ear and sensitive skin. I love how casual she looks. It’s not like she isn’t beautiful all dressed up, but there’s something about jeans and a blouse that lets me know she’s comfortable with me. Of course, even when she was dressed up, there wasn’t much—or anything—I didn’t see.
Mandy shakes her head. “Right. None of that.”
I swing the picnic basket from my other hand as the breeze rustles the fallen leaves, blowing them into cyclones around our feet. The Midwest is so different from Florida. Down there, it is still essentially summer, despite what the calendar says. Here, everything is changing. It’s visible by the way the grass crunches under our shoes and the colorful leaves float through the air. As I take it all in, I’m glad Mandy wanted to do something outside. No loud music or bar scene for her. Instead of a band, the music playing is an orchestra of insects humming as everyday people enjoy life in the distance.
“This is so peaceful,” I say.
“It is. I love being outside, especially after being cooped up at work all day.”
I lean down and give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming up with this great idea. Although, for the record, the last time we were here wasn’t a bad idea either.”
“I’m glad you could come tonight on such short notice,” she says, taking us away from the other topic at hand.
Instead of commenting like a teenager on how I want to come, I answer equally as truthfully. “I was thrilled to get your text. I didn’t think I’d see you again until later next week.”
“My brother surprised me. He planned something special for my son. I couldn’t say no.”
“So let me get this straight: I get a surprise picnic date, and whatever I come up with for later, you can’t say no?” My eyebrows wiggle.
“Whatever could you come up with?” she asks with a sly, knowing grin.
“I’m sure I can come up with something. I could give you the obvious answer, but you just said that the blanket needs to hold the food.”
Mandy shakes her head. “For your information, I can say no. And every time I’m not with my son, I feel guilty...but...” Her big light-blue eyes turn my way. “I think in his own way my brother is trying to be sweet. He said this was so I could do mommy stuff. I don’t think he meant laundry or grocery shopping.”
“Your family sounds very supportive.”
“They are.” She points up to the trees. With the orange hues of the setting sun, the colors of autumn are more vibrant than only moments earlier. “Aren’t the trees beautiful?”
“Is that your way of changing the subject?”
“Yep. Too real. Focus on us.”
“Okay,” I concede, “but first, I want to say that I’m thankful that your brother is giving us this time.”
She squeezes my hand. “Me too.”
I stare down at the brunette beauty by my side.
Mandy looks up. “What?”
“I’m just focusing on you.”
She shakes her head.
A little later, I lay the blanket over an old wooden table off to the side of the open park. I think it still qualifies as a picnic even if it isn’t on the ground and even though I know the rules, the idea of being on the ground with Mandy makes me ready to forget all about food. The trees behind the table give us a little seclusion while open field and lingering sunlight allows us to see. As I place the basket on the table, Mandy rubs her hands together enthusiastically.
“What did you bring?” she asks.
From the basket, I begin to pull out the food I bought at the deli, doing my best Vanna White impression. “For our dining delight…we have chicken, fried and one roasted breast just in case you don’t eat fried, coleslaw, pita chips, hummus, and a lovely bottle of sparkling grape juice.”
“Grape juice?”
“You said we were coming here. It’s not that I’m against breaking a few laws.” I raise my brow. “I think we may have the other night. But the city’s website said no alcohol in parks. I thought we might be pushing our luck if we tempt fate again so soon. I wanted to be safe. But I do have stronger drinks at home for later.”
Mandy continues to pull the paper plates, plastic silverware, and napkins out of the basket. “I love fried chicken, potatoes...just about anything battered and fried,” she adds with her cute grin. “And, gosh, Malcolm, this basket is like Mary Poppins’s!”
“It does seem to go on forever.”
Her blue eyes look my way. “You know Mary Poppins?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t? I love Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke.”
“Don’t tell me that you can sing Chim Chim Cher-ee.”
“I can, but not well. It would definitely take me drinking something stronger than sparkling grape juice to give it a go.”
Mandy’s lips surprise mine as she brushes them against my mouth in a soft kiss.
“What was that for?”
“I felt like giving you a kiss. You brought me on a picnic. You made all this food last minute and put it all in these amazing little containers...” She holds up a plastic deli dish. “...and you know Disney.”
I reach for her hand and pull her closer. “In the interest of full disclosure, the deli at the superstore made the food, but I did risk life and limb to stand in line to select it and then in another line to purchase it. It took most of my patience to wait behind the reigning state coupon queen.”
“I always pick the wrong lane too.”
I shake my head. “I had no idea until she pulled out a three-ring binder. At first I was annoyed, but then as the total for her cart full of groceries continued to plummet, I was too impressed. I had to stay to see if the store would pay her to shop.”
Mandy laughs. “And…?”
“No, but it was close.” I take the container from her hand. “The deli also provided the marvelous containers. But if knowing Disney gets me a kiss, I’ll be happy to recite Old Yeller.”
“Oh no. You’re old school. Besides, everyone knows that movie makes you cry.”
“The book too,” I say.
Mandy’s smile grows. “I love that you read.”
“I’m so tempted to ask how many illiterate men you’ve dated, but I’ll stop myself.”
“That’s good. But the answer is none. It’s just that men like…my brother…can read, but they don’t read books. It’s more like they read sports and car magazines and websites. Ask him anything about the Cubs or Blackhawks and he’s all over it.”
I stifle the need to wince—another Blackhawks fan.
Instead, without effort the subject moves on.
As we settle at the picnic table and begin eating, we chat about books. I explain how I started reading because I had a job with a lot of travel. I want to tell her about The Lightning and more, but I keep it generic. I describe how boring it can get on the road. There are always bars. That gets old fast. A lot of other people who I worked with watched movies, but my mom has always been a reader, so I made the mistake of downloading the book app on my phone.
“That doesn’t sound like a mistake. I’ve spent many nights lost in great stories.”
“It’s one of my favorite ways to go to sleep,” I admit.
“How else do you like to fall asleep?” she asks as her eyes open wide.
This time it’s Mandy whose smile sends shivers down my spine and straight to my dick.
* * *
I stir as Mandy’s side of the bed moves.
Before she can get away, I reach for her hand and stop her retreat. “I hate that you sneak out every morning after you stay the night.”
“Malcolm?”
“I’m not asking you to choose.” I tug her hand so she lands back over me. Her hair falls in waves upon my chest. The dark tresses are no longer secured, but down and messy with the most beautiful case of sex-induced bedhead I’ve ever seen. I can’t stop myself as I reach up and push a piece behind her ear. My touch lingers, allowing my finger to trace the softness of her skin. “I just want you to know that I miss you the moment you leave.”
Her head drops to my shoulder. “I-I...”
Reaching for her chin, I bring her lips to mine. Our kiss starts chaste, but within seconds my tongue forgets that she has plans to leave. It probes the seam of her lips for more, and without hesitation she opens and her tongue joins the dance. Her bare tits push toward me as her nipples bead against my exposed chest. It’s when the predawn air fills with her moans and whimpers that my morning wood turns to steel.
“A few more minutes?” I ask, peering into her lovely gaze.
Instead of answering, Mandy nods as she lifts herself over me, her petite hands gripping my shoulders as she wiggles her sexy ass above my stomach and allows her luscious tits to swing in front of my face. I can’t resist as I lean forward and capture a hard nipple between my lips.
“Oh!”
When my mouth is free, I look up at her and grin. “You asked me yesterday how I like to fall asleep.”
“Yeah?”
“I can say without a doubt that this is how I like to wake up.”
Mandy giggles, the morning grogginess gone from her tone. “Yes, Malcolm...” She lifts herself over my erection and reaches for my length. Rubbing her hand up and down, she assesses, “...you’re definitely up.”
My eyes close as she leads me to her entrance and lowers herself, surrounding me, wiggling to bring us closer, stretching her core as her fingernails bite into my shoulders and her back and neck arch. It’s once she starts to move that I have to open my eyes to watch her. She’s always stunning, but I would say exceptionally so when she falls into the zone: her light-blue eyes staying open wide, staring at me, making me feel as though she wants to be sure I’m still with her as she loses herself to the pleasure.
Once we both find our cliff, we lock hands and jump together without reservation. The free fall goes on and on as I hold her against me.
With her hair in my face and sexy body draped over me, I wrap her tighter in my arms, wanting to say what I’ve never said before, wanting to tell her how she makes me feel, how I do feel. I want to promise to always be there as she finds that release, how I want to be there for everything, the good and the bad...but I know that isn’t what she wants to hear. Not yet. It goes beyond her ‘here and now’ rules.
I know it does, because I’m most certain that what I’m feeling and the way it’s growing stronger by the day is not limited to this moment.