Thirty Five Years Late E-Book

M.R. Leenysman

• Herausgeber: M.R. Leenysman
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In high school, Kimmy asked Jake, a very shy young man, to ask her friend Jane to prom. Feeling uncertain, he backs out.

Now, 35 years later, Jake has reconnected to both women on social media. When he gets a work assignment in Jane's city, he meets her for dinner.

Sparks fly and they start a relationship. How will it be impacted when Kimmy announces she's coming to visit, too?

Leseprobe

Contents

Title35

License Text

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Back Matter

Thirty Five Years Late

By M.R. Leenysman

~~~~~

Copyright 2016, 2018, 2019 M.R. Leenysman

(Chapter 1 previously published

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Chapter 1

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There are times it feels like it happened to someone else, but I was once the shyest guy you could have ever found in my school years. I hardly ever talked with girls, from my first crush in 6th grade on through to my Senior Year, then through college as well. I went into the workforce a virgin and, for a while, it looked like there was no end in sight to that.

Around the time I turned 30, I realized that putting all my energy into my job and my dick into my hand were not satisfying me anymore. I wanted companionship, anywhere from just someone to finally fuck me, to a life partner, so I knew I had to break through my shyness, to get my life on track. Can’t even call it getting back on track, since it had never been on a romantic track, ever.

Maybe someday I’ll tell the story of how I overcame that shyness and the women who helped me do it, but for this part of my life story, suffice it to say that I did finally lose my virginity, dated several women and then met my wife Connie and got married and was happy.

For a while.

Then the marriage gradually fell apart, we decided to divorce and I was single again at 52. We had no kids, so the split was relatively easy, as divorces go. A lot easier than the last few years of the marriage, at least.

In a lot of ways, I felt like I was back where I was when I turned 30. I was back to having just my job in my life and took to more traveling assignments. The marriage and its failure had damaged my confidence in a lot of ways and the prospect of dating again had me feeling scared. Again. I was determined to fight against that feeling and was beginning to date again, but wasn’t clicking with any of the women I met. First date city.

And then one day I was reminded of an incident that had happened in High School back in Maine, when I received a Facebook friend request from a classmate from that school. In my senior year, Kimmy Cartwright had asked me to ask her friend Jane Wallace to Senior prom, saying that Jane liked me and wanted to go with me even though we’d never really talked much. I managed to nervously ask Jane, but then doubts crept into my head. Was I just being set up for a big joke at my expense?  I couldn’t figure out any other reason for it happening. My shyness listened to the doubts, I canceled on Jane and didn’t go to prom.

That, my friends, was the closest I got to a date before 30. Sad and pathetic, right?  I considered it part of a past I’d overcome and hadn’t thought about it in years. I hadn’t even told my ex-wife about it.

We all graduated soon after and went our separate ways.

I had not talked to either Kimmy or Jane since then. Hadn’t seen either of them at reunions, before I moved away from the area fifteen years ago, winding up in Seattle, where I met my ex.

And now Kimmy was asking to be a Facebook friend?  I thought about rejecting the request because of that incident in high school, but realized that was my old fears talking and I didn’t want to give into that again. What could be the harm in saying “Hi” to someone now?  I had quite a few other Facebook friends from the same school.

So, I accepted Kimmy’s request and we got caught up with each other’s lives through a series of messages. She was married, with three kids, lived in western New York. I got a “Sorry” regarding my divorce. Both of us had moved away from our hometown in Maine. And when I mentioned that I’d recently had lunch with a couple of friends from our class when I’d been in our hometown visiting my parents, she mentioned that the only one of our classmates she’d kept in close touch with over the years was Jane. Who it turned out was on Facebook, still listed as Jane Wallace. Her profile picture was just what I thought a 52-year-old Jane would look like and the smile was exactly as I’d remembered it. So, I sent her a friend request.

Along with the request, I sent a private message saying, “I don’t know if you remember it or not, or have thought about it since, but I feel like I owe you both an apology and explanation for canceling on you for the prom. I let my shyness convince me that I was getting set up for a joke and ran away from the risk. I should have had the courage to trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t and sorry if that hurt you.”  

I think that was already more words than I’d exchanged with her in all of high school. I felt like a very old weight, that I’d gotten so used to that it no longer registered, had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t care whether I got forgiven, I just needed to do it for myself. Kind of like an alcoholic making amends, doing it to heal himself.

I was surprised when Jane accepted the friend request and her response to my message only addressed the matter with “I wondered why you did that.” The rest of her message was talking about things she’d seen among recent posts on my profile. It turned out we both have an interest in history and progressive political views. She also had moved away from home and was now a single mom living outside Chicago.

We struck up an occasional correspondence, sometimes as comments to each other’s posts, sometimes privately. The prom didn’t come up again. Jane was mom to a 15-year-old daughter, conceived by sperm donor. Given the math, she’d had Amelia at 38. A biological-clock baby, it seemed clear.

We probably averaged a dozen messages to each other per month after the first month, light-hearted stuff, you know how Facebook is.

About six months later, I got notified by my job that I would be traveling to Chicago for a six week assignment, maybe more.

“Would you like to get together for dinner while I’m in town?” I sent to her, letting her know where I’d be working and the hotel I’d be staying at.

“Are you asking me on another date?  How do I know you won’t cancel on me again?” came her reply, with a little smiley-face to make it clear she was joking.

I responded, “Well, I actually still owe you for canceling the original date, from high school. No expectations, just two old classmates eating together. Bring your daughter along if that will make you more comfortable. My treat. How about it?  Save me from another dinner alone on the road?”

A day later, she responded, “Okay, I’ll do it. How does Tuesday the 19th sound?  I know a nice Thai place that’s about midway between my work and your customer that is usually pretty quiet so we can talk. I’ll make reservations for 7 PM?”  She included her mobile number, in case I needed it. I added her to my phone’s contacts.

“Kewl. See you there,” and I sent my number.

At 7 PM that night, I entered the Jade Thai restaurant and spotted Jane immediately, along with her 15-year-old daughter Amelia, whose pictures I’d also seen. “Hello ladies,” I said, as Jane spotted me approaching the table. I turned to look at her daughter and said, “You must be Amelia. I’m Jake Kimball.”  I shook Amelia’s hand, but Jane got up and surprised me with both a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Jane looked elegant, in a gray satiny dress that reached her knees and showed only a little bit of cleavage at the neckline. She was more full-bodied than High School, when she’d been a little thin. I’d long since learned that many of the girls who were curviest in High School tended to only get bigger. The modest weight gain looked very good on her now. I don’t know if she had chosen her dress because her daughter was along, but she still looked gorgeous. In my thoughts, I slapped myself across the back of my head for a fool. If only...

“Hiya, boyfriend,” she teased. “35 years late for a date? Gotta call the Guinness Book of World Records!”  We laughed and I pushed her chair in as she sat again before seating myself and picking up a menu.

My skin where she’d kissed me still tingled.