PIT 4/3: Pacific Ocean
Points In Time
Westlake Village, California
Friday, March 19, 2010
10:20 AM
The suitcase with her clothing still in the small bedroom.
Coming into the larger bedroom wearing nothing but loose fitting slacks and a light weight jacket.. “Know what I’d like to do today?”
Sitting on the bed, lifting his ass to pull a pair of shorts over his bare hips, as sill attempting to process the reason for Marsha’s contribution of better than thirty-one thousand dollars to his checking account.
“What’s that, baby?”’
Neither knowing how to speak of their mutually spontaneous – more than likely ‘for ever’ lifetime commitment caused by Marsha’s money transfer.
“I think I’d like to drive by Elysium to see what they’d done to it. Then head to the beach and maybe go for a swim.”
Thinking, Enough! I want her with me! I want us together!
Making a decision...“We can do that, Marcie, but ‘first thing’, I want us to get to my bank so we can put you on our account.”
What she had been hoping for. ‘Our’ account!
11:25 AM
A new check-book with the names Mitchell Lipensky & Marsha Lipensky with a thirty-seven thousand, six hundred dollar ($37,600.0) balance in Marsha’s purse – along with a quickly packed picnic basket on the back seat.
Leaving Westlake Savings and Loan, the grey and red Lincoln entered the easy bound lane of the 101 freeway.
Woodland Hills, California
12:18 PM
Leaving an upper-end women’s wear clothing shop wearing a fashionably stylish two piece, absolutely ‘not’ age significant bathing suit beneath her loose fitting slacks and light weight jacket. Putting it on before leaving the house, Mitchell wearing a bathing suit beneath his shorts, it took the Lincoln but a few minutes until, making a left onto Topanga Canyon Boulevard…
12:37 PM
“Where the hell is it?”
Slowing to where, in their memories the dirt road leading to ‘Elysium Fields’ should be… or used to be, there were beautifully paved and California flora decorated lanes leading into small developments of high priced homes.
Parking on the west side of the road, opposite of where they thought the old entrance would have been.
“There’s got to be something!” Mitchell opened his door as Marsha did the same.
Crossing the road, Mitchell going to his left, Marsha to her right as they slowly walked fifteen- twenty yards in opposite directions looking for some sigh of the two old trees Elysium used to chain the driveway shut.
“Hey!”
“You find something?”
About fifty yards away. “Yeah! I think.”
Quickly walking to Marsha, the two looking at the stump of a barely visible, about two inches above ground level tree with grass growing about and within cracks in the rotted wood.
“Yeah, this is one of them…” looking to the left and right, and seeing nothing bur the thick growth of ice plants, and within five feet to either side of the stump, paved driveways “...but can’t see the other.”
Standing a moment gazing at the only remains of Elysium Fields as faces, and bodies ranged through both minds: Morgan Joseph, the Burly Veit Nam veteran; Evie Dorfmann, a high school friend of Marsha’s; Janis Kim, the beautiful one breasted Euro/Asian woman; Lita Warner, the lovely black lady Mitchell had once loved; Ken and Sandy, the long time friends ‘with benefits’, and..
“So sad,” Marsha said.
“Yeah, it is.” Taking her hand, Mitchell prompted Marsha across the road.
1:05 PM
South-west bound about four twisty miles on Topanga Canyon Road, and a right onto Pacific Coast Highway for about a mile, then a left onto the Zuma Beach parking lot driveway.
Near eighty-four degrees here at the beach, there was a cool breeze making this an absolutely lovely beach day.
The picnic basket upon the spread blanket about fifteen yards from waters edge, deciding on a walk before a swim and blanket time…
Hand in hand…
Those people within a somewhat nearby distance – particularly mature male people, seeing the tall, platinum haired woman wearing a fashionably stylish two piece, absolutely ‘not’ age significant bathing suit walking the beach…
Mature men sitting at a somewhat nearby distance would watch as Marsha approached, then follow her backside as she and the older man she was with would pass by.
People situated closer to waters edge, or those passing in the opposite direction would see a beautiful, white haired considerably older woman wearing a ‘not’ age appropriate bathing suit that, although possibly ‘not’ age appropriate for a woman of her age, the woman wore it well enough to turn the eyes of any man above the age of fifty.
“That bathing-suit of yours baby…” said matter of factually “...is sure catching some attention.”
“Mitchie, I’m an old lady that wants to look – guess the kids say ‘hot’ and you’re…” spoken as a completely true statement “... the ‘only’ man I want to look ‘hot’ for.” Giggling. “So, is it doing its job?”
His arm tightly about her waist, drawing her closer. “Hell, yeah, baby. It’s doing its job just fine!”
1:24 PM
Returning to their blanket and picnic basket, taking a sharp turn into the water “Mitchie…” motioning to him “...come on! The water’s great!” Wadding a few paces forward, Marsha dove into the water, swam a few paces, then turned to see Mitchell a few storks behind.
Surface diving, swimming beneath the water, Marsha surfaced in water below the hollow of her throat.
Directly behind, Mitchell surfaced in water to his shoulders.
On tip-toes, her arms tight about his neck, kissing Mitchell, her hand finding its way beneath the waist band of his bathing suit as, lifting the bra top of Marsha’s bathing suit, her chin keeping it from floating away…
Hugging tightly chest to breasts...
Their kiss becoming longer, and in the water, with their bodies hidden from the eyes of those on the now crowded beach, both completely impassioned by the romantic day, the tepid water, and especially each other.
In the salt water of the Pacific Ocean, easily lifted from her feet to be cradled within his arms…
Kissing him…
Kissing her..
Licking the cool brine off one breast, then hungrily…
Easily excitable! But here, ‘especially’ here– her body held horizontally afloat in Mitchell’s arms, air and water causing Marsha’s nipples to become upright turgid projections of tightly wrinkled dark-brown flesh.
Licking the cool brine off one breast, then hungrily drawing the tightly constricted nipple as deeply into his mouth as the flesh of Marsha’s breast would allow.
Oh, God!
It feels so good!
It feels so right!
Age? Seventy-four years... Seventy-six years.
Age no matter. Only the ageless beauty held within his arms…
Held afloat within his arms.
The facial and bodily wrinkles of time no longer apparent.
Marsha’s excitement no less than as though the past forty years had evaporated.
Mitchell’s excitement no less than as though the past forty years had evaporated.
“Shit!” Dropping from his cradled arms. “Shit!”
Thinking she’d been bitten by something or stepped on a rock. “What’s wrong?”
Attempting to force a fore finger between the thighs of her ‘not’ age appropriate bathing suit. “Mitchie, I want to fuck you ‘so’ bad! But…”
“ ‘But’? But what?”
“The thighs are too tight for me to open ‘em enough for you to get your cock in. And afraid if I take them off…”
Two horny minds working in the same direction as he’d been thinking the same thing. “Your bottom.?”
“Yeah. Afraid if I lower it, it might float away.”
“Thinking about that also, Marcie. And either of us losing our bathing suits here…” motioning about “...would not be a good thing!”
“No!” Laughing as she cupped her breasts back into her ‘not’ age appropriate bra top. “Having to go ashore naked would not be a good thing at all.”
“And…” cocking his head shore-ward “...they’d have probably figured out what we were doing anyway.”
Still laughing. “Fuck ‘um!” Marsha said.
Swimming a short distance, then splashing ashore.
Some people, indeed, thinking they knew what these two ‘old people’ –that should have known better, had been doing, clacked their tongues and shook their heads.
But two of the men…
Two of the old men sitting on their blankets with their wrinkly old wives looked lustfully at the old – in their minds– nicely ‘stacked’, white haired woman.
2:13 PM
Side by side facing the ocean, eating ‘Vienna’ salami sandwiches with yellow ‘deli’ mustard on fresh, packaged white bread – which for some coincidental reason, had always been one of their favorite, lunch time sandwiches . A bottle of ‘Coors Beer’ held steady between their thighs, within a towel covering their laps.
Becoming reflective. “You remember the last time we were at a beach together?”
Thinking back. “Yeah, if I remember right…” Mitchell said “...it was over a Fourth of July weekend in… uh…”
“Nineteen-fifty-eight.”
“Yeah…” attempting not to sound bitter, but the words did have a sting to them “...that was the summer you tool Mikey and disappeared and wouldn’t let anyone tell me where my wife and baby were, and I didn’t see Mikey or you for over two months.”
Her hand now onto his warm thigh. “Yeah, that was one of the shittier things I pulled on you…” leaning over, kissing his cheek “...I’’m sorry for that, too.
But God, in a small way got even with me because along came ‘Nate’. That fucking pervert.”
Taking a bite of the sandwich. “Wonder if they ever caught him?”
“Well ‘Nate’ would be pretty old by now, so hopefully the bastards dead, or in the ‘loony bin’.”
“In a way, though…” swallowing a mouth full of beer “... a good thing came out of that miserable summer, ‘cause I worked up the nerve to tell my parents off, and quit the Studio and got that ‘schlepper’ job with my uncle, Shel…”
“Yeah…” taking a bite of salami sandwich and washing it down with a gulp of beer “... I remember not thinking it was you that morning when you pulled up to the cottage in Lakeside.”
“Well…” taking swig of beer “... working construction schlepping wheelbarrows of concrete and lumber around eight hours a day for two months sure did a number on me.”
Not wanting to go too deeply in the ‘muscle’ thing with Mitchell because it might bring up thoughts of Stanley Jacobson. So, offering no response, she took another bite of the sandwich.
Not wanting to go into the ‘muscle’ thing also– possibly because he’d been without easily visible muscles for the past fifty-two years.
“But it did do something else good…” another gulp of beer “... ‘cause I met, uh…” thinking “… Earl Krupper,…”
“Earl Krupper?”
“Yeah, Earl’s dad was that salesman at ‘Transco’ that was about to retire and Earl told me the company was looking for trainees, and that’s how I got to Transco. And that’s how we ended up Peoria.”
Their eyes focused at some point above the ocean’s horizon. Possibly a high wheeling gull.
Quiet as both Marsha and Mitchell finished the sandwiches while nursing whatever beer remained in the two bottles.
“You know…” Mitchell finally said “...I think the happiest time of my life was when we lived in Peoria.”
“Other than when my dad got killed.”
“Yes, of course.” Turning onto his side, looking at her.
“After living in Chicago and New York, small town living was so different. The people were different, friendlier, and when I quit Transco and went to work at the radio station that’s when I really loved it.”
Turning onto her side also. “I know you did, baby.”
“I loved the creativity that went into the ‘spots’ my customers bought, and that even though I was selling an intangible, I was able to hear this intangible it in a day or two and ‘loved’ going back to my customer and being told that I’d really done some good for them and their business.” Chuckling. “Especially if they ordered more ‘time’.”
Wonder what our lives would be like now if I didn’t let…” thinking “… ‘Tarnowski’ talk me into coming back to Chicago?” There never would have been my thing with Elizabeth.
‘Elizabeth’ entering Marsha’s mind also. But at that time she had still been in love with Stanley Jacobson and fucking him whenever she could get away from the kids and the house.
So when Mitchell called at that precise time, on that exact day, it hadn’t been too hard to tell her husband, ‘Yes. Come home’. Especially because his call came at the exact time that President Kennedy had been shot.
“It was your birthday when Tarnowski called that morning offering you a piece of that wonderful downtown territory.”
“Yeah, the money was great. But I really did like Peoria.”
Their heads cradled by their hands. Faces but a foot apart. “You know, Marcie, I always thought you were a very pretty woman. Now please, don’t take this the wrong way…” meaning this with all his heart “...but I think that you are a ‘beautiful’ older lady.”
Moving fractionally forward, Marsha’s lips making brushing contact. “That’s the way I see you too, baby.”
“A beautiful old lady?”
“No, silly. A beautiful old man… with a wrinkly tush.”
“I love you, Marsha.”
“Me, too, Mitchie. I love you, too.”
Thinking a moment. Making up his mind, Mitchell glanced at his watch…
2:45 PM
If we leave now, we might get there before it closes.”
“Before what closes?”
“Thousand Oaks City Hall.”
“ ‘City Hall’?”
“Marcie…” taking her face between his hands “...will you marry me?”
Soul-Mates?
Standing. Gathering the basket and blanket.
“Lets hurry, baby!”
Next PIT4/4: Old New Beginnings
