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Mark M Lichterman

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A 3 Day Lifetime Pt 6
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Monday, May 24, 2010
Last edited: Thursday, May 27, 2010
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.

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“Honey, making love to you in this shower would be great and you know I’d love to do it, but...” Seeing concern on her face. “Honey, I’m a seventy-four year old guy and to screw in a shower, standing up?

Prologue: Two months ago, when “writersplace.net”, our authors web site began looking for the three most popular, most widely followed commercially unpublished poets, Barbara’s name came up and the three were invited to a poetry competition in Chicago. 

Poetry with permission of Elizabeth J. Russo

______________________________________________________

A Three Day Lifetime:  Part Six

Saturday, June 19, 2009

Day Two:  Morning

“Mmmm. Come back, baby,” she muttered, moving her fingers in a ‘come on' motion, “lay...” she fell asleep.

 

The light blanket slipped off her shoulder and, looking at a sleep creased breast,  I purposely helped the blanket along as I slipped back into bed. However feeling the motion, her arm draping over my hip, snuggling against me, cuddling against me with her head beneath my chin...

 

“Mmmm, you’re cool.”

 

Bringing her sleep-warmed body closely against my shower cooled body, feeling the softness of her breasts and the length of her body against mine, my face now in her hair, my hand over her hip holding a so warm, so soft cheek, this is all I want for whatever time we have left together; to be close to this woman.

 

“Mmmm...” wiggling her chubby, but to me, beautiful behind,

 

Sex not even a thought at this moment, “You feel so good.” I said.

 

Moving her hand from my shoulder, placing it beneath the blanket, covering it completely, her small hand closed over my shriveled penis and then, a few seconds later...

 

“Oh,” she said, “that’s sooo cute!”

 

Moving my head back so as to see her face, “What’s ‘so cute’?”

 

When a man and woman are together, in time a part of their repartee will turn to good natured bantering, however, when a lifetime must be lived in three days, the good natured bantering might show up a bit sooner then “in time.”

 

Moving my head back so as to see her face, “What’s so cute?”

 

Looking at me, “Your teeny weenie.”

 

“ ‘My teeny weenie’, huh!”  Playfully pushing Barbara onto her back, I attempted to kiss her, but...

 

Covering her mouth with her hand, “Oh, baby, let me brush my teeth first!”

 

“No!” I said, attempting to slip my mouth beneath her hand. “I want to kiss you,” I said in a very authoritative voice, “now!”  

 

“No, I’m too stinky.”

 

“Okay, then, I agree, ‘you’re stinky’!”

 

Pushing me back, “What do you mean ‘I’m stinky’?”

 

Barbara’s hands off her mouth, I kissed her lightly on the lips. “Yeah, you really are stinky!”

 

“And you really are a teeny weenie!”

 

Kissing me on the nose, rolling over me, I watched the movement of her backside as she went into the bathroom.

 

Hearing tinkling of urine, and a few seconds later...

 

 “What time’s it?”

 

Walking to the bathroom, “Five-fifty-five.” And again standing at the open door, watching the reflection of Barbara’s jiggling breasts in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. No sooner did she spit the foam into the sink, no sooner did she rinse her mouth than my mouth was onto her mouth.

 

Breast to chest, belly to belly, thighs to thighs, hugging tightly, her hands clutching me, my hands clutching her, nude, we stood tightly together in the bathroom.

 

“Hey, honey,” poking her on the thigh, “see,” I said, “it ain’t no ‘teeny weenie’ anymore.”

 

Reaching down, “Yeah,” holding me, “I see... Wanna hop in the shower with me?”

 

“I just took a shower.”

 

So,” she said friendly-sternly,  “what’s your point?”

 

Adjusting the hot and cold water, stepping into the tub first, holding her hand, I helped Barbara into the tub.

 

“Here,” pouring liquid soap onto the washcloth, “turn around.”

 

Scrubbing my back...

 

 “Your turn,” I said. Lightly rubbing the cloth over her chest, over her tummy, watching as the circumference of her light pink nipples darkened and tightened... 

 

Hot water streaming onto me, onto her, kissing, our bodies now tightly encircled by her arms, by my arms.

 

Kissing...

 

Our lips parting and our eyes opening, both of us looked into the eyes of the other as, reaching to me...

 

“Uh...”

 

Glancing down, “Mitchie, where’d it go?”

 

“Honey, making love to you in this shower would be great and you know I’d love to do it, but...” Seeing concern on her face. “Honey, I’m a seventy-four year old guy and to screw in a shower, standing up, a guy would either have to be some kind of a contortionist or have much more than...”

 

Looking downward, Barbara’s eyes following mine.

 

“...a teeny weenie.” I said tearfully.

 

Catching the jocular tone, looking up, she smiled.

 

“Maybe, baby,  fifty years ago it would’ve worked, but now?” I shrugged my shoulders.

 

“That's okay, honey, just being here with you is all I want.”

 

                                     ****

 

Looking at the waitress in the Allerton Hotel Coffee Shop, “Orange juice,” Barbara said, “Eggs over easy, sausage and whole wheat toast.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am... You, Sir?”

 

“I’ll have eggs over medium,” looking at the waitress. “I don’t like them hard or runny.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Sausage paddies, hash-browns cooked crispy, a toasted bagel and coffee.”

 

Waiting until the waitress left, “You nervous?” I asked.

 

“Yes, sure!” she said, looking at me. “I told you I was really shy!”

 

Smiling, “You sure couldn’t tell it by me.”

 

Thinking she knew what I was referring to, which in fact I was, turning a bit red, Barbara blushed.

 

As though loath to be further than within a hands reach, sitting closely side by side in the booth,  squeezing her thigh, “Yesterday at the airport,” I said, teasing her, “that kiss you gave a perfect stranger...”

 

“You weren't a perfect stranger.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that when you planted that big fat juicy kiss on what may have been a perfect stranger.”

 

“I saw pictures of you, remember?”

 

“Yeah, sure! And then last night...”

 

“...I want you to know, Mitchie, I’ve never done that before, not even close to it! Not even with my husband.”

 

“I know, honey.” lifting her hand, I kissed it.

 

“I’ll never forget last night, Mitchie.”

 

“Yeah, me, too.” Quiet a moment, remembering the promise I made to myself not to allow myself to think of tomorrow, forcing my mind elsewhere... “Uh, so what are you going to recite?” 

 

“You’ll see.”

 

Glancing at my watch, “When are we supposed to be there?”

 

“It starts at nine, but they want us there at least a half hour earlier so we can find our group.”

 

“Who are you going to introduce me as?”

 

“Who would you like me to introduce you as?”

 

My hand still on her thigh, squeezing it lightly, “Your husband.” I said softly.

 

“Oh, Mitchie,” tears coming to her eyes, “I only wish.”

 

“Yeah, me, too.”

 

  ©May 23, 2010 / Mark M Lichterman

 Sleep throughout the night was... actually lovely.

 

We lay, somehow touching one-another throughout the night as though if not touching, the dream of being in bed together, sleeping together would vanish and Barbara would be in bed with her husband and me, alone.

 

At times it might be no more then her toes on my calf, or my hand on her shoulder, and at times she would cuddle against my backside, or me hers and yet, as though by the merest of touch we were reassuring each other that we were here, together, the touch was, at least for me, so subliminal that, although aware of being touched, and touching, I did not awake.

 

Being an “early morning person”, awake now at 5:12 and, though not wanting to leave our bed...our bed...

 

I love the morning, early morning.

 

All is quiet and it gives me time to think.

 

Almost all my creative writing was done in the morning then, later in the day, I would go back and clean it and refine it, but my mental, along with my physical energy is highest in the morning.

 

 What I want to do, what I have dreamt of doing, is to lay in bed looking at her. What I want to do is have my mental camera clicking so for all the days, weeks, months and years that I will not be with her, to look at her, to see her, the picture of Barbara will always be here, in my mind.

 

 I do not want to wake her, so quietly leaving our bed, going to the bathroom, I closed the door. Standing before the toilet, then brushing my teeth, I love you! The words repeating and repeating in my mind are: I love you....I love you!”

 

 I like to shave in the shower and I like the feel of a shaving brush on my face so, using an old porcelain covered tin cup as my shaving cup I – in actuality my shaving soap is the small ends of soap that become too small to wash or shower with that I drop into my cup – I lather my face at the sink and shave beneath my sideburns looking in the mirror, then do the rest of my face in the shower... Having this same face all these years, other than keeping my sideburns straight, I do not need a mirror to shave.

 

Standing in the shower shaving, though since dinner last night I’ve fought the thought down, though I’ve tried to dwell on here, of now, I cannot help but think that in thirty-two hours... in thirty-two short hours Barbara and I will have to say goodbye, goodbye forever. 

 

Opening the door quietly, coming back to the room, some daylight showing through the curtains, I’m happy to see that Barbara is still asleep. My movement into the bed causing her to stir, turning from her left to her right side, facing me...


Web Site: mmlichterman.com  

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Reviewed by Annabel Sheila 5/26/2010
They sound like a couple that have been together forever....sometimes I guess it happens that way. Good story, Mark.

Anna
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 5/24/2010
Most amusing shower encounter. Even viagra has its limits. Patrick
Reviewed by Chessly Nesci 5/24/2010
Mark, This story is so realistic!! It can't possibly be fiction. What a beautiful love affair that you shared. Your friend, ~Chessly
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 5/24/2010
Excellent writing, Mark; well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Reviewed by Georg Mateos 5/24/2010
Perfect strangers will never disappoint you, because you never expected anything from those quarters, and yet, the memory of it can be indelible.

Georg


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Mark M Lichterman



For Better or Worse

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Becoming

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