That triggered her: “THERE! I’M THERE! CUMMING! SO GOOD! CUMMING!”
Then, before we slept together in each other’s arms for a long, long time, we whispered words like kids … like grownups … and like parents.
*********************************
I never made it to visit Lori that Saturday. To make it up to her, I had to promise to take her to the beach.
Who wants to climb into a swimsuit and go to the beach when you’ve spent all week in a swimsuit at a pool?
Answer: Lori. Lori, my girlfriend. Lori, my immature girlfriend.
And, after being around Auntie Lee, Lori seemed even more immature. Maybe it was because I was maturing. Probably not, because the other thing about being around Auntie Lee was that I realized how much I had to learn, and how much I had to grow up.
So the day Lori picks to go to the beach, it starts raining. While we’re on the beach. Wet sand everywhere, and Lori complaining all the way home. Blaming me, of course.
I suggested we make the best of it and get a pizza, but she wanted to take a shower first. That means waiting at her house (and Mrs. Branch’s house) while she showers. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.
“Be careful around my mother. She’s real cranky today.”
“Today?”
“Be nice. She’s hurting. She threw her back out, and her big dance recital for her studio is this week. She’s frantic because she can’t get done all the millions of things it takes to stage these fiascos with all those brats and wannabees.”
“Lower back? She should just cancel it. Those injuries take forever and are tricky.”
“Cancel it? The parents of the students would have conniptions! They pay to see their little darlings out there in their costumes jumping and stumbling and looking into the spotlight. There are only four of these a year. And no, not lower back. It’s right between her shoulder blades.”
“Oh, those are nothing. Playing sports, you get stuff like that all the time. They get fixed easy. Boom, you feel like a million again,” I said, giving way too much information.
The minute we got in the door, Mrs Branch called out from their living room: “Lori, thank God you’re home. There are a thousand things that have to get done, and I can hardly move. Come help me.”
“I have to take a shower,” Lori said.
So Lori was like this with even her ailing mother. Even I take pity on someone who’s hurt.
“Mike’s here. He says he can fix your back!”
I whispered, “I never said that.”
“You said it’s easy, so I figured you could. I’ll be back out after I get rid of this sand. Go see what you can do.”
She didn’t wait for me to argue or run for the door. I walked to the living room and peeked around the corner.
“You.” That’s all Mrs. Branch said.
“Sorry you’re not feeling better.”
“So, do you really know anything about back injuries, or were you just bragging to my daughter?”
Why would I brag to Lori? She was so wrapped up in herself she didn’t have the time or the attention to listen to anything good about anyone else. Like I said, I have sympathy for anyone in pain. I know when I’d been injured in the past, it’s no fun. Both physically and mentally when you don’t think you’ll ever get better again.