Road to Redemption Pt. 02

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ROAD TO REDEMPTION

PART TWO OF TWO

REDEMPTION

VII. HOW BIG IS YOUR DAD?

The next morning, I was awakened by the smell of bacon frying and the soulful voice of Etta James. I looked at my bedside clock. It was already nine-thirty. I quickly roused up and slipped on a t-shirt to go with my sleeping shorts and peeked in the kitchen.

Celia was busy making breakfast and was wearing one of the bathrobes I kept for company. Her long hair was gathered up in a towel on her head in a manner that all women have apparently mastered, and which seems to defy gravity.

I cleared my throat and Celia turned, “Good morning sleepyhead. I was about to come wake you. I hope this is okay. I was hungry and couldn’t wait any longer. Oh, and I borrowed your washer, which stopped a minute ago. Be a doll and put my clothes in the dryer.”

“Sure. Um, do I have time for a quick shower?”

“If you make it fast. Breakfast will be ready in about 15 minutes.”

“I can shower, dress and mow the lawn in 15 minutes.”

I beat it down the hall to the laundry room and put her clothes in the dryer, then hit the shower. When I made it back to the kitchen, she was putting breakfast on the table — toast, eggs, bacon, fried apples and coffee.

“I couldn’t find any potatoes, so I hope this is okay, and I hope you like fried apples. I love them and saw you had some apples, so…”

“Love ’em, too, and I guess I missed buying potatoes. You really didn’t have to go to this trouble, but I’m glad you did. I’m starving.”

“Oh, you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, “I didn’t bring any make-up with me, so you get me au naturelle.”

“You look better au naturelle than most women do after two hours in front of a mirror,” I said sincerely.

“You’re sweet, and right back at ya,” she joked.

“Yeah, well no amount of make-up can improve this mug,” I replied.

“You are always putting yourself down, Nick. Why do you do that?”

“I’m just a self-deprecating kind of guy. What can I say?”

“Well, deprecate yourself down in a chair and let’s eat.”

After breakfast, Celia said she wanted to go home and change, then if I didn’t have anything planned, she would like to show me her shop. Oh boy, women’s clothes — how could I refuse.

We drove to Celia’s home; well, she drove, in my car. I had a feeling if we ended up together, I would never get to drive it again. We arrived at one of the newer gated developments on the edge of the city, and her home was a very nice, Victorian-style, two-story, with immaculate grounds. After she changed, we headed to old town.

Celia’s boutique was in an exclusive area of high-end shops in a revitalized section, surrounded by other shops aimed specifically at SRW’s (Silly Rich Women). I couldn’t imagine what her lease cost, and didn’t ask; but after looking at the name brands and price tags of her merchandise, I surmised that was not an issue. The shop was extremely well laid out, merchandise precisely and effectively displayed, with a natural traffic flow that optimized the opportunities to sell the most product. Her staff was professional and obviously selected for their abilities to charm and attend to the SRW’s, of which there were several at the moment. I was impressed and told her so.

After the tour, we went to a posh coffee shop and had a delicious, if expensive lunch. Celia sprung the question. No, not that one.

“Nick, my mom and dad would like to meet you. I’ve told them about you, and my dad, especially, is eager to meet you. No pressure, and I want you to know, they both gave me a very positive vibe. Are you up for that?”

“Sure. I’m used to being thrown out of girlfriends’ parents’ homes, so I can handle it.”

She laughed, “You’re terrible…and do you realize you called me your girlfriend, if indirectly.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Nick, it’s okay. I liked the sound of it. I don’t think we have to be coy at this point. We are dating, and we do like each other.”

“Celia, I’m flattered that you would think of me as your boyfriend; and honestly, I look forward to meeting your parents. We haven’t talked much about your mom yet, but I’m very interested in meeting them both, but especially your dad. He sounds like a pretty amazing man…and I want to tell him man to man, to keep his damn hands off my car.”

She cackled, “That may not be such a good idea. I haven’t told you how big my dad is, and I guarantee you he won’t go down as easy as my no-account ex did.”

“Hey, between you and me, I got lucky with your ex. If he’d got the first punch in, it would have probably turned out very different…Just how big is your dad, and how does he feel about a short, semi-couth, semi-educated, pasty-white guy dating his daughter?”

“Stop it,” she replied, “you’re not short, you’re at least three-quarters couth, you’re much smarter than you let on, and my dad is not remotely racist; and I dated a white guy before I got tangled up with Tom; and David, they actually liked.”

“So, what happened to ‘David’? Anadolu Yakası Escort You haven’t included him in your bio, yet.”

“David was my first love. We met my freshman year in college. He was a terrific guy, but long story short, his parents ‘were’ racists, sooo, that didn’t go well.”

“Sorry to hear that. But now that I think about it, I’m glad it didn’t work out; or I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”

“Thank you, Nick. That’s the nicest compliment. And I am looking forward to you meeting my parents. And speaking of not being in the bio, you still haven’t said anything about your parents.”

“Um, they’re not really in the picture,” I replied evasively, then asked, “When did you want to get together?”

Celia looked at me, hesitated, then diplomatically moved on, “Well, I’ll be out of town for two weeks on a buying trip, and was hopeful we could do it as soon as I return. With your work schedule, I figured Saturday, two weeks from today.”

“That’ll work, and I am looking forward to it…So, just how big is your dad?”

She laughed again, “You’ll find out.”

We called it an afternoon and she went to prepare for her trip. I called it a day and returned home to go over some construction plans and prepare for the week.

When I got home, I went into the study and diligently set about reviewing plans. That lasted about 15 minutes. My conscience was nagging at me, interrupting my concentration. “Shelley, what about Shelley? What are you going to do about Shelley, you low-life, piece of crap?”

Damn. Nothing’s ever easy or simple. So, I did nothing and put it off. I still had another weekend while Celia was out of town, and I really did need to work on those jobs before Monday.

VIII. THE SHELLEY SITUATION

The week was a blur, and I did everything but deal with Shelley. Saturday, there was a break in the weather. It was a sunny day, so I busied myself in the yard. Around two in the afternoon, I starved out and went in the house to make a snack. I thought of Shelley. I’d said I would call her. Crap. The way things were going with Celia, I was wishing I’d never got tangled up with Shelley. But I had, and it wouldn’t be right to leave her hanging. She was a sweet lady.

I picked up my cell and called.

“Hi, Nick. I’m so glad you called. How are you? Still real busy?”

“Yeah, they’re working me like a dog. I’m fine, though, and just wanted to touch base with you. I think we should get together and…”

“I’d love to, Nick. Whenever works for you.”

I was going to say, “we need to talk,” but I didn’t get that out fast enough. I knew what she was expecting and I knew what we would do if we got together, but I had to deal with this one way or the other.

“I’m free later this evening, or tomorrow, anytime,” I replied.

“I could make you dinner. I have everything to make spaghetti.”

I should have said tomorrow. I wasn’t ready to deal with this, but spaghetti sounded awfully good, “Great, what time should I come?”

“The sauce needs to simmer at least two hours, and it will take me…” she paused, then finished, “Is 7:30 too late? I can have everything ready by then.”

“Let’s make it eight o’clock, then you don’t have to rush and I can finish my chores and get ready.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you at eight.”

After hanging up, I was feeling apprehensive about the evening. I didn’t want to lead Shelley on. I had to break it to her that I couldn’t see her anymore. But I didn’t want to hurt her, either. I know she said “no strings,” but I don’t think she foresaw me kicking her to the curb so soon. Shit, this was going to suck.

Man up, you little weasel.

After a sandwich, I returned to my yard work and mulled over how I was going to deal with Shelley. Six o’clock came too soon, and I had to get ready. I wasn’t feeling any better about it now than I did earlier, and I didn’t know how I was going to handle it.

As it turned out, I handled it just about as poorly as I could have.

I arrived at Shelley’s house about ten minutes early but didn’t pull in, and just kept driving. I was still rehearsing how I was going to do this. Every possible scenario I came up with had one of two outcomes — either I made a clean break and hurt Shelley badly, or I let her down easy, slept with her, and still hurt her badly; and in the process, proved what a man-whore I am by cheating on Celia before I even got out of the gate. I pulled in her drive at ten after, still with no POA (plan of action).

“Hi Nick, come on in, everything is ready,” Shelley greeted me from the front porch as soon as I exited the car. She had obviously been watching for me.

As soon as I entered the house, my mouth started watering. It smelled like an Italian kitchen — fabulous. She made a baked spaghetti casserole that was even better than her stew, and she served a decent Lambrusco Grasparossa with it. Afterwards, she served a scratch-made lemon ricotta cake that was heavenly and the perfect dessert to complement our meal. During dinner, we engaged in small talk, discussing my work and what she had been up to. I can’t tell you how much I was dreading after dinner. Fortunately, she had plenty of Lambrusco on hand, and I needed the fortifying effect of the alcohol. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

Before I could get into what I didn’t want to talk about, but had to, Shelley informed me that she purchased something she wanted to show me. She headed upstairs and I emptied the remaining contents of the second bottle of wine into my glass and slugged it down.

Shelley came into the living room wearing a sheer negligee that did nothing to hide her voluptuous body. She was blushing down to her decolletage, and was obviously feeling uncomfortable, but had chosen to make, what was for her, a bold move.

What could I do, but compliment her and respond appropriately — as in get an erection, forget about my speech and bed her, immediately. Pathetic!

“I hope you like it. I debated on wearing it, and chickened out several times before deciding I was being silly…”

“Shelley, you look stunning, sexy as hell,” I exclaimed as I rose off the couch and embraced her.

She melted into me and began kissing me before I could say anything else. I could feel the heat emanating off her body. I hugged her to me, enjoying the feel of her, the scent of her, and the passion with which she was kissing me.

It was hopeless.

Shelley snaked a hand down and rubbed my erection through my pants and murmured, “Take me.”

We separated and walked hand in hand up the stairs. I was in high heat, anxious to bed this lovely creature; and at the same time, my emotions were all over the place. Of course, the little head was in control and any protests coming from the big head were summarily overruled.

Unlike our first time, Shelley wasn’t timid at all. As soon as we entered the bedroom, she started unbuttoning my shirt, undoing my belt and pretty insistently stripping me. I resisted in every way I could manage, which is to say, not at all. When she got to my boxers, she dropped to her knees, pulled them down, and grasped my burgeoning erection. She looked at it, looked up at me, then back at my erection.

“I’ve never done this, so you have to tell me if I’m doing it right.” With that she proceeded to slip the head of my cock in her mouth. She took it in until it hit the back of her throat and promptly gagged.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s not how far you take it in but how you work it. Suck gently and move it in and out slowly, keeping your teeth from scraping it. Use your lips and tongue to work it,” I instructed.

Hey, I’m no expert at cocksucking, but I know what feels good.

She proved to be a quick learner, and after a minute, her ministrations had the desired effect — I was rock hard. I lifted her up and kissed her then moved her to the bed.

“That was lovely, Shelley, but now I want to make love to you.”

“Would you like to do anything different, this time?” she asked shyly. “I’m open to whatever you want. I haven’t had a lot of experience with different things.”

“Sure. I have a position I think you will enjoy. Lie down on your back with your legs straight but parted slightly.” She complied, and I straddled her legs and wet two fingers to moisten her vagina. I needn’t have bothered. She was already very moist. I levered my cock down to enter her, then pushed into her snug, warm vaginal tunnel until I was all the way in. I rocked forward till the shaft of my cock was pressed against her clit, then instructed her to squeeze her legs together. I started stroking slowly and Shelley reacted immediately.

“Oh gosh, that feels so good.”

“Play with your breasts; wet your fingers and play with your nipples.”

“Oh, oh, you can go faster…Oh, yes! Yes, that, oh is, ungh, going to…make me cum.”

I started stroking with fast controlled thrusts, relishing the feel of her hot, slippery tunnel. She was now squeezing, rolling and pinching her fat nipples and nodding her head as she approached her climax. I leaned forward over her so I could ratchet my hips faster.

“Oh, oh, oh, fuck, Nick! Oh, yes, fuck me, make me cum, baby…”

She released her breasts and grabbed my back, curling up till her breasts pressed into my chest, and hungrily attacked my mouth. Then she dropped back on the bed and started shuddering as her climax surged through her.

“OH, NOW, CUMMING!”

That was all I could take, and I unloaded, cumming hard, thrusting rapid-fire, my own orgasm blasting through me. When I stopped thrusting, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down, kissing me with urgency and intensity. It was all I could do to breathe, trying to recover from the exertion.

When she broke the kiss, she grinned, “I like that position!”

I slowly pulled out and rolled onto my back, continuing to catch my breath.

She rolled on her side, and asked, “Are there any other positions you want to show me?”

“You’ll have to give me some time to recover. I’m not 18 anymore,” I joked.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Ice water would be nice.”

Shelley got up, and naked, walked out of the bedroom, her big, firm ass gyrating. She was quickly losing her shyness. I admired her ass as she walked away.

From the hall I heard, “Oh crap!” and she came back into the bedroom, headed to the bathroom with a hand between her legs.

“You must have cum a lot,” she laughed as she made a beeline for the toilet.

“I’ll get the water,” I volunteered.

After refreshing ourselves and some pillow talk, we began taking turns orally stimulating each other until I was game for another round. We made love in as many positions as I could manage before I had no game left.

Afterwards, we showered and dressed, then headed downstairs. I asked if she had any more wine and told her we needed to talk. Thankfully, she had plenty of wine, just not enough to make this easy. I hadn’t felt this shitty in a long time.

We went out on the back patio to cool off and enjoy the night air. Once we were settled, I found my voice and my balls, and did what I came to do.

“Shelley, I have to tell you something I don’t want to tell you and I don’t know how to…”

“Nick, it’s okay. You can’t see me again, can you?”

I was floored.

“Shelley, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but that person I was telling you about, well it’s the woman from that night. And we’ve gotten very close. And I can’t in good conscience continue to…”

“Nick, I understand. I meant it when I said no strings. I want to thank you for your kindness and for a wonderful time. I know now what lovemaking can be like, and I hope I find someone else…like you. And I know if I do, I’ll have the confidence to…make the best of it.”

“Shelley, you are making this way too easy on me, and taking it too well. I can’t tell you how much I was dreading this. I’ve come to care for you very much, and I didn’t want to hurt you, but I just couldn’t continue…”

“Nick, you’re a good man. I appreciate your honesty, and your lady friend is a lucky woman.”

“Thank you, Shelley. And I think that any man who is fortunate enough to end up with you is a damn, lucky bastard. I really do wish you the very best. And, you are a wonderful person and a wonderful lover.

“But…?”

“In all fairness, I did begin a relationship with her first, but I didn’t know it was going to go anywhere when I met you and we got together. But I hoped it was, and then it was too late. I had messed up and got together with you when I shouldn’t have, convincing myself it was no big deal. But you turned out to be sweet and so much more than I expected. But in my heart, I was already committed to Celia, I just kind of denied it, which led to this situation. That’s the ‘but’ and I’m at fault for it.”

“Nick, I’m a big girl. Honest. I’ll miss you, but I don’t regret what we did, what we had. Have another glass of wine with me, then kiss me goodnight.”

We sat and talked and had two more glasses of wine. She walked me to my car and I kissed her and held her.

“Nick, if things don’t work out…”

“I’ll be on your doorstep in a heartbeat; that is, if someone hasn’t snatched you up, already.”

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

I got in my car and very carefully drove home. Truth of the matter, I had no business behind the wheel. When I arrived home, I went in, uncorked a bottle of Beaujolais and proceeded to finish getting plastered so I would feel as shitty physically as I did emotionally.

IX. TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES.

All week, I mulled over what I had done with Shelley and to Shelley, but more importantly, what I had done to Celia. And I kept asking myself, “Do I confess or never mention it?” Saturday was going to come way too soon. But I didn’t get to wait for Saturday. Celia called me Friday morning and asked me to pick her up at the airport at nine that night if I could.

When she cleared security, I was waiting, and I have to tell you, she was more beautiful than my memory of her. And all that did was remind me of what a shit heel I was for basically cheating on this beautiful woman. At that moment, I knew I had to tell her — when, was the question.

She greeted me with a big hug and a kiss, and it felt natural and wonderful.

“Good to be back,” she said breathily, when she broke the kiss.

“Good to have you back.”

“Thanks for picking me up. I could have called my dad, but I wanted to see you right away.”

“I’m glad you did. I have to shag the car and I’ll pick you up out front,” I explained.

“I’ll walk with you. We can catch up. Oh, and I’m starving. The airplane food was typically unfulfilling.”

“There’s a diner fairly convenient to your place that we can hit on the way,” I offered as I pulled her luggage in tow.

“Let’s go to your place. I have a surprise I want to show you.”

“Then, we can hit Lance’s. It’s open late.”

“Sounds good.”

As we walked to the car, she told me about her buying trip. She was pretty excited with the results. She had been on an all-Italy trip, hitting Milan, Florence/Prato, Genoa and Vicenza, among others, and it had gone well.

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