PIT 2/14: Too Much

Points in Time

Westlake Village, California

Tuesday, June 16, 1986

7:43 PM

I waited and watched as Lita chose one of the fitted sheets she had just folded and taking two perfectly folded matching light green pillow cases, went into the small bedroom and made up the one double bed that we had carried over Then, knowing what I ‘was’ thinking. “For later…” she said “...first let’s eat.”

“Think we ought to take a shower first?” I asked hopefully.

Knowing if they got undressed and into a shower together they would never get out of bed.

“You think you smell bad, do you?”

Lifting my arm, sniffing my armpit. “No.”

Doing the same.. “Me either… First eat. Then shower. Then bed.”

“ ‘Then’?”

“We’ll figure it out.

The Ford in the garage.

“Know where we’re going, Mitch?”

Scooting behind the steering wheel, turning the key, “Not too familiar with restaurants around here, but there’s a ‘Shakey’s’ up the road a piece in Camarillo.”

“I love, Shakey’s. One question, though.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“You like anchovies?”

“My, God…” slightly exaggerating “...I ‘love’ anchovy pizza and you’re the only…” this true “...person I know that does also. Knew there was a reason to love you!”

Silent a moment… “Yeah, Mitchie. Me, too. I you, too.”

Backing out of the garage, as coincidentally Milton and Harriet Abrams were in the the process of removing a number of brown paper bags from the rear of their old Lincoln Continental…

The Ford backing out of the garage; in a friendly gesture Milton waved to Lita, whom in a friendly gesture waved back as Harriet Abrams, in an exaggerated near comical gesture turned her face upward and away.

“Milt, seems like a pretty good guy, but that wife of his…” Knowing the meaning of Harriet’s purposeful snub, Lita’s voice trailed off.

8:20 p.m.

‘Shakey’s’ —a barn of a place with heavy wooden distressed tables and like backless benches that were seemingly scattered throughout in haphazard placement.

Fairly well occupied at this time with people sitting in couples or in double or triple groups.

There were both Caucasian and a scattering of Negro people sitting throughout, all sitting at ‘their’ purposely segregated tables.

Entering Shakey’s a host wearing a neck to knee black stripped oil cloth apron asked, “Just two?”

“Just us.”

Motioning them to follow.

Weaving through and around scattered tables, both Negro and Caucasian, male and female heads lifted and eyes followed as Lita Warner and Mitchell Lipensky were guided to their table—looks of which Mitchell took as looks of envy for the beautiful woman at his side. Which Lita took as looks of disapproval— especially, while passing, from one older black lady,

Apparently ‘anchovy’ pizza not a big seller at Shakey's in Camarillo. Lita  and Mitchell shared a large sausage and onion pizza, Lita drinking two mugs of ‘Coors’ and Mitchell a mug of ‘Miller’s’.

Sensing eyes on her, the slice of pizza halting mid way to her mouth, looking to her right, to the black couple two tables away; the hateful expression on both faces matching the ‘fuck you’ gesture the older woman was making with the index finger of her right hand.

9:15 PM

“Mitchie, I hate leaving my car overnight…” considering the ‘fuck you’ gesture to be more so from her entire race, rather than from one old woman “… mind if we drive back to your old place to get my car.”

An 1985 red Mercedes convertible, left with the top down a pretty good target.

“ Sure, honey. I was thinking it wasn’t such a good idea to leave it overnight anyway.”

The trip from Camarillo to Woodland Hills made in — at least in his opinion — comforting silence as Mitchell drove with Lita’s head resting on his shoulder, with her hand held within his upon his thigh.

Mitchell feeling absolute contentment.

Lita’s mind in absolute turmoil.

9:58 PM

No meeting of the Abrams or anyone else as the Mercedes parked along the curb and the Ford pulled into the garage.

Anxious to get on with their ‘together’ shower and to bed and disappointed when Lita asked, “Did I see you put a bottle of ‘Johnny Walker’ in the cabinet?”

“Yes. You want some?”

“The ice maker working?”

All utilities turned on the day before and the ice maker in the freezer doing it’s job; as Mitchell worked in the kitchen he’d dumped whatever ice had been made with old water, and had heard the dropping of new ice cubes into the freezer’s ice bin.

“The ice maker working?”

“It is.”

“I’d like to look around outside for a few minutes. So, could you pour me some with a couple ice cubs and a dash of water.”

Taking two of the heavy ‘Old Fashioned’ glasses that he’d put into one of the cabinets along with the other glasses that afternoon. Pouring Lita a healthy ‘scotch’n’rocks’, he poured a like drink for himself.

Standing at the banister looking outward, even at this time there were a goodly number of battery powered boats scooting about Westlake Lake —as best they could scoot about at the five miles an hour lake limit.

Immediately to the right was the six foot high stucco wall that separated Mitchell’s property from the Abrams. Looking beyond the wall the entire south-western curve of Westlake Lake could be seen. To the left was the six foot high stucco wall that separated his property from that of the, as of yet, unknown neighbours and beyond could be seen— a mile or so off , the far eastern end of the lake along with the ‘Westlake Yacht Club’ —which Mitchell doubted he’d ever join, along with two high end priced restaurants.

Directly across the lake—about three quarters of a mile was a wide green verge with a walkway then ‘Trimupho Canyon Boulevard’, and beyond rolling green hills dotted with small tracts of homes.

“You know, Mitch, with your place here…” motioning over her shoulder “...and this…” making an all-encompassing sweeping motion before her “.....you’ve found yourself a ‘really’ beautiful place to live.”

“Yeah. Kind of like a special vacation area just forty-five miles from Los Angeles.”

Drinking our scotch ‘n’ rocks, my arm about Lita’s waist holding her closely, we looked at the beautiful vista before us…

Seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Mitchie…” turning to me, kissing me, tasting the scotch that had coated her mouth and tongue “...fuck me, Mitchie!”

Going inside, Lita went to the counter where she’d left the small overnight bag she’d brought with her.

The master bathroom was huge in comparison to the other, containing a double sink, a sunken bathtub and a large, frosted glass fronted shower stall.

I watched as Lita, dropping her Jeans and pulling the chambray shirt over her head…

“What are you waiting for?” Standing in panties and bra. “You going to get naked, or what?” Lita asked as, reaching into the shower stall and turning both knobs, adjusting the water temperature as I stepped out of my jeans.

Once again reaching into her overnight bag, she came up a plastic bottle of liquid soap and wash cloth.

Noting my dick that was still somewhat in hiding. “You don’t wear underwear?”

Pulling the chambray shirt over my head. “No.”

Lita unhooked and let the bra fall to the floor then, leaning against the double sink vanity, pushed her panties off her hips, down her legs and off her feet.

Now this beautiful light-skinned, black-skinned women stood completely naked before me… As I stood completely naked before her with my dick absolutely no longer in hiding.

The beauty of this fifty-two year old lady that I’d ‘hypothetically’ met when I was sixteen in ‘nineteen-fifty-one’ —that was ‘not’ Lita, but a thirteen year old black girl by the name of ‘Louise’ that, imaging what Louise looked like naked, the sixteen year old boy had masturbated to night after night, and now…

Far different here, in my home than at Elysium fields, the tits and body of this beautifully matured woman. The ageless beauty of Lita’s face — Lita naked before me, all these years later, a masturbatory dream come true .

Stepping into the shower, I followed.

Hot water streaming onto Mitchell , over Lita. Their bodies tightly encircled by four arms with his hands clasped onto Lita’s buttocks, with Lita’s hands clasped onto his buttocks.

Feeling the soft push of soap slicked breasts onto his chest’

Feeling the probe of his penis against her thigh…Encircling, holding his penis.

Mouths together. Tongues twining.

His hand rubbing the hairy mound of her vulva... probing... parting the petals, his finger, sliding into he ‘so warm’ lubricious channel...

Straining into the probe of his finger. Slowly moving one hand fore and back along the warm, hard shaft of his penis. The nails of Lita’s other hand tightening into the soft flesh of his buttock, urging Mitchell even closer....

Breaking the kiss. Lowering his head, holding a breast from beneath, bringing it to his lips, drawing Lita’s excited, now elongated tightly constricted black nipple deeply into his mouth.

Pulling from her hand, bending at his knees and crouching before her, running his mouth and tongue over Lita’s streaming flesh...

Down, into the indention of her navel..

Down — hair there wet and flattened, the projection of Lita’s mound seemingly more pronounced... As drawing the soft mound fully into his mouth, biting softly, but not too softly onto the hairy flesh that it wasn’t felt.

Feeling the delicious pin of his bite, Lita waited for what she knew… for what she expected… for what she ‘wanted’ to come next, as...

Parting the fleshy folds with his tongue… caressing... up to the upper cleft of her vagina, finding it easily, licking the budding tip of Lita’s clitoris, as...

Arching her pelvis forward, widening her thighs, holding the back of his head, pressing his mouth onto and his tongue deeper…

Closing her eyes, straining her pelvis even further, opening her thighs even wider, holding Mitchell’s head, moving it in a tight circle onto her pulsating pussy.

Sensing the approach of orgasm, the volume of air being drawn into her lungs and rapidly exhaled increasing… Feeling the sharp sweetness begin and knowing it ‘would’ and ‘wanting’ it again, twisting her fingers in his hair, pulling Mitchell to his feet… Lita’s hand clenching his soap slicked cock as, arching forward, widening her thigh, her vagina grasping, his cock filling… her vagina holding.. forcing his cock even harder into, and even deeper into, and...

“Mmmm!”

“Oh, God!” Feeling the wonderfully warm wet tightness that clasped my dick.

“Mmmm!”

Once again... Or possibly the sweet pain had never ended and now for Lita was seemingly but one continuous orgasm.

Pelvis moving only. Push... retract... push... retract... push... Nearing!

Nearing... His pelvis and cock jerking forward, jerking backward...

‘Now’!

Standing perfectly still, actually feeling the penile contractions within her vagina... Within Lita’s body.

‘I love you!’ Lita thought…

But!

Brown breasts to Mitchell’s white chest.

Their mouths coming tightly together. Each breathing their hard, ragged breath into the mouth of the other, till...

Lips loosening. Heads moved back. Eyes opening, each looked into the half opened eyes of the other, till...

Their breathing slowed...Lita’s breasts moving from Mitchell’s chest… The two stood, without words, but yet

together.

“Better get out of here…” Lita said “...before we become waterlogged.”

Standing outside the shower stall, drying themselves.

“Know what I’d Like to do. “Mitch?”

“What’s that. Lita?”

Walking nude to the open slider. Spreading her arms and naked thighs to this nights balmy breeze.

“It’s so beautiful out, I’d like us to drop a mattress on the floor just inside the open slider and sleep with the door open.”

The thought of spending this night within the arms of Lita… Within the arms of Mitchell... With the gentle breeze playing over their bodies.

“Really like the nudist life style, do you?”

“Yeah, I guess...” knowing what she must do and wanting something special to remember “...but I’d really like to sleep naked with you here.”

11:32 PM

With, if needed, a light blanket for cover, lying on a mattress within feet of the fully open slider and the moon lit, star studded night.

Naked within feet of the open slider. The breeze warm upon the body of Lita. The breeze warm upon the body of Mitchell.

On their backs, sides touching. Lita’s head upon Mitchell’s shoulder. Hands held atop Lita’s thighs.

Spontaneous, gentle lovemaking through.

Words spoken…

Lita knowing what she must do.

As a mental pain within her chest, having a deeply felt sense of forthcoming sadness.

“Mitchie…” she said “...you do know I have to go.”

“That bitch next door… Those people at ‘Shakey’s’’?”

“ Everyone here in your world, baby. At Elysium we were in a different world with free thinking, ‘hippie ‘type people right out of the sixties. If we lived there? If our world was there, I’d never leave you… But it’s just too hard for me here.”

“I could move to your world, then.”

“You’d never be able to live there. You and me living together in my world? You’d never make it!”

Knowing she was right. ‘Hating’ that she was right.

What words could he speak?

What more could she say?”

Shortly before sleep coming…

“Know what I’d like to do, baby?”

Turning onto my side now. My left arm across Lita’s chest.

Lita’s left hand onto my outer thigh.

“Whatever you want to do, honey, It’s okay with me.”

Her hand cupping my thoroughly flaccid dick.

“I’d like to hold ‘you’ tonight.”

“And if I get horny”

“It’ll be okay.”

My hand cupping Lita’s soft breast…

We both slept.

June 17, 1986

7:o5 AM

Sunlight and cool morning air flowing through the open slider.

Lita awaking first, her back to Mitchell, she pulled the light weight blanket to cover her bare shoulders as she turned to look at — covered to the waist by the blanket, Lita looked at his back, shoulders and head.

Sensing the mental pain of the rapidly approaching time when she ‘must’ say goodbye to this man… To this gentle white man that she had — against ‘all’ odds disbelievingly, fallen in love with.

Feeling Lita’s movement, I turned to face her. Now the first time and, sad to say, the last time Lita and I would sleep together, and ‘all’ I wanted to do was to look at her…

To see Lita.

Lita and me, we’re both naked, lying inches apart —though morning coolness felt upon our early morning flesh, sensing the radiating warmth from the body of Lita, sex the furthest thing from my mind.

‘Oh, God’! How I did ‘not’ want to say goodbye to this beautiful woman that I so love.

The two studied the face of the other… Black eyes upon green eyes… green eyes upon black eyes.

Mitchell’s arms about her. Lita’s breasts soft upon his chest.

Sex not an issue.

‘Oh, God’!

“Mitchie…” her hand caressing my cheek “...we’d better get going.”

Holding her head in both hands, their lips lightly coming together.

“Yes.”

7:40 AM

Lita in the driver seat. Mitchell outside. The window open. Their hands held tightly as though not wanting to let go.

Fighting to hold tears back. My finger twining a tight curl that had fallen upon her forehead.“Probably for this best, I guess.”

Lita’s eyes watering. “Maybe in ten, fifteen years things will be different.”

“I love you, Lita.”

Lita’s eyes no longer watering as tears came. “I love you, too, Mitchie.”

Moving the lever to ‘D’ , the car moving from the curb…

“Goodbye.”

11:4o AM

“ ‘Morning, Mitch.”

“ ‘Morning, Milt.” I said to my next door neighbour while looking over the top of their old Lincoln… “No worries, Harriet…” I snarled to his wife “...my girlfriend… Lita is ‘gone’ thanks in part to you.”

12:50 PM

‘2821 Waterview Lane’ seemed so much larger and so much emptier than it had just the day before.

Other than Morgan’s silver flask at Elysium, never much of a drinker, ‘What the hell!’ Pouting a stiff Scotch over ice, going outside I stood at the rail in the spot Lita had stood only yesterday and let my mind wander, and my mind did wander... to the only other time a girl, and now a woman had left me...

Within the fifty-two years of Mitchell Lipensky’s life there had been but one other time that he had felt so sad and so lonely….

Finishing the last of his scotch’n’rocks, swiping his arm across his eyes, Mitchell went into his empty new home..

Next: PIT 2/15: Barbara