Crossing Boundaries (Cape Falls) Page 4

  He stopped her with his hand on the trolley.

  “Seriously, Peter, your macho man bullshit is starting to piss me off,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  She never expected to hear those words out of his mouth.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  The rest of the day went by uneventful. Customers came to drop off books or collect reserved books. Laura grew accustomed to all the processes and found her job easier with every passing second. At closing time she stood with the head librarian as she locked the doors.

  “See you tomorrow,” Laura told the woman and walked to the supermarket. Laura had come up with an idea. She’d cook Dean dinner. She thought he worked too hard and for once she wanted to give him something that hadn’t come out of a box. When making his drink she’d found all the packages for the ready meals.

  She grabbed some peppers, chillies, onions and garlic from the fresh food section. Fresh herbs were growing in his garden and she’d seen coriander among the herbs. Next she went to the spice aisle. She placed cumin, paprika and cayenne pepper in the basket. Minced beef was followed by canned tomatoes and kidney beans. With her shopping completed, she paid for her goods and left the store.

  She saw Peter standing against the railing outside the store.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he replied and threw away the cigarette he was smoking.

  “You know those can kill you,” she said.

  “Probably. I don’t smoke all the time. I wanted to ask you something,” he told her.

  “I’m all ears,” she replied, then checked the time and waited for him to talk.

  “I’m failing history,” he lied. “That’s why I’m at the library. Mr. Green said he’d give me this summer to catch up and I’ll take a test when college reopens.”

  “That explains why you’re at the library. What part are you failing?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She’d taken history as a step back in time. The past and learning about history always intrigued her.

  “Everything. I’m not doing well at all,” he admitted.

  Laura stared up at sky. “Do you want me to help you? While you’re at the library I can give you the best kind of books to help teach you and get you up to speed.” she suggested. She didn’t look forward to helping him, but she couldn’t ignore a cry for help, even if the cry for help came in the form of Peter Miller.

  “That would be great,” he said with a smile. “I could kiss you.”

  Laura took a step back. “Let's keep the skin-to-skin contact at a minimum.”

  Peter nodded and she saw the disappointment on his face. She did not want to go there.

  “Can I drive you home?” he asked.

  “Nope. I’m not going home, but thank you for the offer. I’ll see you at the library tomorrow.”

  “Aren’t you working at the diner anymore?” he asked.

  Laura shook her head, waved good-bye and began the walk to Dean’s house. The night air was warm, fresh and delightful. Forty minutes later she knocked on his door.

  Dean answered dressed in jeans and nothing else. Laura paused. His large, half naked body exposed for her to see. Considering he was a writer, he looked like he pushed weights for a living. She wouldn’t even get her hand around those arms.

  “Laura, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I brought some ingredients and while you work, I’m going to cook dinner. Don’t you worry, I’ve already told my parents that I’m going to be late and they said not to worry.” She lifted her bag of goodies.

  “Why not?” Dean agreed and opened the door wider.

  She stepped over the threshold and ignored the tingle low in her stomach when her arm brushed against his. She wore a small, plain white blouse and black skirt that fell past the knee -- the proper protocol for working at the library.

  “You look like a stern teacher,” he mocked.

  “They're my work clothes for the library job. What do you think?” she asked. She placed the bag on the floor and gave a twirl. The skirt cut in at the waist and smoothed over the curve of her hips. All of her was on display. She felt fat and too exposed for her liking. She thought her ass looked like two melons were rolling around under it. She personally preferred baggy clothes with plenty of space to hide her body.

  “You look stunning,” he whispered.

  Laura snorted, making a horrible sound. “Yeah, right," she replied sarcastically.

  "You go and work and I’ll cook us dinner. And don’t argue. I know you need to get this mystery book finished." She shooed him into the study, then took on the mission in his kitchen. A cast iron pot found, she began her quest to chop, grate and cook.

  * * * *

  Dean sat behind his computer desk. His dick was hard. Laura did not look like a young woman in that outfit. The baggy clothes she normally wore hid most of her body from view and he could imagine her as nothing more than a young girl trying to act all grown up. And her ass—holy shit. Her ass looked so gorgeous, all round and full. When she'd turned away from him he’d been tempted to reach out and grab a handful.

  He placed a hand over his throbbing cock and moaned. The sounds from the kitchen were teasing him to abandon all good thoughts, to seek her out and force her to put out the fire she’d created in him. Never before had he acted like this with a woman. His wife had been passionate, but when he saw Carla dressed she hadn’t brought about a raging hard on.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed a shirt to put on. There was no way he could have dinner with this stiffy straining his jeans. He moved to the kitchen. Oh, sweet lord, have mercy.

  She was bent over and looking in the fridge, her ass sticking up into the air. From this angle alone he was given the perfect view of stockings at the top of her thighs. When did young women start wearing stockings? He had to get out of here.

  “I’m just going for a quick shower. I’ve done my writing for today,” he called, facing the stairs as opposed to the delectable delights in the kitchen.

  “Okay. Take your time,” she said.

  I plan to.

  Dean walked up the stairs and went straight to his room. He closed and locked the door before going straight to his ensuite bathroom, although there was no need to the lock the door. He saw his reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner. For most of his life he’d always had a mirror in the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes in quick time. The ache easing in his groin the moment his jeans were around his ankles.

  The reflection in the mirror showed that the time he spent on the weights in his home gym was taking effect. His arm muscles were larger and their definition was strongly outlined along his body. He thought he looked more powerful than he’d ever been throughout his forty years. His hands went to his chest and then moved down his body, over the hard planes of his stomach and to his large, protruding shaft. His tip leaked pre-cum and he ran his fingers through the sticky liquid. It had been a while since he’d masturbated or had any sexual thoughts to make him want to.

  He watched himself in the mirror as he played with his balls. He ran his hands up and down his shaft. The pleasurable sensation almost brought him to his knees. He pictured Laura with her ass on display. In his mind he rid her body of the skirt and imagined her in only her stockings. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring up the image of her pussy or her slit. Instead, he watched his reflection as he fucked his hand, the head disappearing and reappearing through his fist, the image of Laura in her stockings reappearing in his mind.

  He noticed the sweat now shining on his skin and he began playing with his buttocks as he continued pumping his dick. He felt himself so close to the edge. His cum leaked out of the tip, shiny and glossy in the light. He pictured Laura knelling in front of him, her hands tied behind her back and her mouth open, ready to receive him. Mixed feelings suddenly overcame him, one of intense arousal and the other of sheer protectiveness.

  He gave him
self a few more strokes and his seed shot out of the tip, landing on the laminate floor and the bottom part of the mirror. His breaths came in heavy pants. When he calmed down he turned the water on for the shower. He quickly cleaned his seed from the walls and mirror and stepped under the water for a quick shower to rid the sweat and the day’s grime from his body.

  The scents wafting up through the house made him realize how hungry he was. Once he’d wiped the bathroom down, he dressed in another pair of jeans and shirt before walking down the stairs.

  “Something smells good,” he said as he walked in.

  Laura stood at the counter and piled a helping of boiled rice on a plate followed by the , home-made chilli. The woman was after his heart.

  “I found some cheese in the fridge. No sour cream though,” she told him.

  He didn’t mind. He liked his food spicy.

  Laura walked over to the table and handed him a plate. She took the seat next to him and at the same time they both dived into their meal.

  The explosion of flavour set him off. The chilli was cooked to perfection and wonderful.

  “This didn’t take long,” he said.

  She gave him a funny look.

  “What?”

  “You were gone over an hour,” she told him.

  “Really?”

  Laura giggled and went back to eating.

  He admired her for several minutes. Dean loved to watch a woman eat. She wasn’t self-conscious and she enjoyed her food.

  “This tastes really good,” he complimented.

  “I’m pleased you like it.”

  They ate in silence, but in a companionable silence. Dean enjoyed every single second. The food didn’t need conversation. He enjoyed being at the table and eating home-cooked food.

  When they were finished, Laura washed up and handed him a cup of coffee. He didn’t have the heart to stop her from being at home and he could become used to the way she looked working in the kitchen.

  “How’s the writing going?” she asked.

  “Slowly,” he replied, looking at her over the edge of his cup.

  “Will you ever tell me your pen name?” she asked.

  He smiled. He wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle some of his work.

  “In time,” he answered.

  “You’re very cryptic,” she said.

  “You’ll know when I need you to know,” he replied.

  She washed the last of the dishes and put them away before sitting with him at the table.

  “How’s your writing?” he asked.

  “Slow.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  “I was thinking we could go to the stream at the bottom of your garden, passed the line of trees,” she said.

  Dean took a sip of his coffee and asked, “Why would you want to go there?”

  “I think it’s a brilliant place to think. It might open your mind to many more possibilities.”

  He thought about the stream where he’d first caught her on his property. The spot did have a calming quality he’d enjoy.

  “All right. How about next week? I’ve got a few things to get done, but that would be the best time for me," he said.

  Chapter Seven

  Dear Diary,

  Today I’ll be going to the stream with Dean. He doesn’t know how beautiful it can be. I loved the way he laughed the night I made him chilli and I want to hear more of his laughter. He needs to see the beauty in life and any chance I’m given for finding out his pen name is a plus. The fact that he won’t tell me is driving me crazy. I want to know all about his writing career and everything about him. Wish me luck with finding out more.

  Peter continues to study at the library and, all right, I have to confess that he’s not a complete jerk. There, I’ve said it. I've admitted something I never thought possible. He studies most of the time and doesn’t torment me anymore, not even when his friends stop by, which did surprise me. I wonder if he’s told them to lay off? Anyway, it’s a bonus for me. I don’t have to deal with the herd.

  Laura grabbed Dean’s hand and moved down the path of his garden toward the trees. Dean had tried to put off this visit and she wouldn’t let him. The sun was shining and the breeze was to a minimum. She wanted to share a part of her world with him. When she sat on that boulder that overlooked the water she could imagine being in any place other than Cape Falls.

  “You don’t have to drag me,” he complained.

  “Yes, I do. You were dawdling and I want to enjoy as many minutes of peace I can get. Especially since I have to get permission from the owner to visit,” she teased.

  A few minutes later they stood at the beautiful spot. It was like a hidden paradise away from everyone and everything else.

  “I love it here,” she whispered.

  “How deep is the water?” he asked.

  “It’s a stream. I don’t think it’s that deep.” She let go of his hand and climbed up onto her boulder. Laura turned and saw Dean watching her. She tapped the spot by her side.

  “How long have you been coming here?” he asked.

  “A few years. Mostly since the end of high school, when the pressure got too much. Coming here always made the bad seem worthwhile.”

  “High school was a bummer,” he admitted. Dean climbed up on the boulder and sat close beside her.

  “You hated high school?” she asked.

  “Yes, everything about it. I was bullied by the jocks and tormented by everyone.”

  “You weren’t a jock?”

  “Nope. First-class nerd all the way. Also, in my spare time I liked to read poetry. The only person who didn’t bully me was Carla.” He went quiet at her side.

  “Was Carla your wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you childhood sweethearts?” she asked.

  “Do you really want to know this?”

  Laura glanced over at him. “I want to know everything about you.”

  She heard him sigh and instead of badgering him to continue she stared at the water and waited.

  “Carla and I were close growing up. We lived about three houses apart and were great friends, nothing deep or meaningful. If we had classes together we partnered up. We were each other’s back-up. She went to prom with the most popular guy in school. Wow, I didn’t know I’d ever forget his name, but I can’t recall it. Anyway, after prom and graduation, I had a scholarship to go to a creative writing college while she went off and did her own thing. We lost touch for over ten years.”

  Laura heard him chuckle and the next moment felt her hand being taken. She gazed down to see he was holding her hand. Did he know what he was doing?

  “We met at a drinks celebration," he continued. "I wasn’t doing well at story writing at the time and I wrote small pieces for tabloids and magazines. Not good enough to get noticed, but enough to pay the bills. We met and the years melted away. Five years later, when we were both thirty-three, we decided to settle down together. We cared about each other from the beginning. We got hitched in the summer of that year and a year later we’d fallen in love. I know it sounds corny and romance movie, but it happened that way for us. She’s the one who told me to start writing my own stuff and one night after, well, after doing adult stuff...”

  Laura thumped him in the side. “After you’d made love. I’m not a child.”

  “Okay, after we’d made love I went to my computer and typed all night long. The piece was awful. That was the starting point and I haven’t stopped since. Carla became my world and I became hers. Nothing mattered as long as we were both together. Then four years ago, little Frankie was born. My son. Our family was complete.” Tears ran down his face. Laura gripped his hand more firmly.

  “How did they die?” she asked.

  “About two years ago I’d made it into the world of publishing and we'd gone to some book launch. Little Frankie and Carla were tired and she drove them home while I stayed and mingled with the rest of the group. I returned home before the
m. They never made it home. A drunk driver in a lorry crashed head on into them. They wouldn’t have seen it coming.”

  Laura got to her knees and hugged him.

  Dean let go, his body shaking with the sobs coming out of him. She held him through the pain and the heartache as he finally, after so long of keeping it inside, let it out.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispered and kissed him on the head. She wasn’t there for anything more than to offer him comfort. She sought no other pleasure or means.

  “I should have been there,” he cried.

  She let go of his hand and cupped his face. “No," she said. "This was not your fault. What happened that night couldn’t be foreseen. You’re not to blame.”

  Firm and direct she hugged him and after some time he settled down with his head in her lap. Laura ran her fingers through his hair as she glanced up at the setting sun.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said after a time, but he didn’t move from the position on her lap.

  “What are friends for?” she asked.

  “I’m so pleased you’re my friend, Laura.”

  She smiled.

  “Laura?”

  “Yes.”