Rekindled

“Excuse me, it’s Jill, isn’t it?”

The old woman turned and looked up at me from the wooden bench and table at which she was sat. Her eyes scrutinized me, trying to decide if she knew me.

“Sorry, do I know you?”

Now that she was speaking, I was even more sure that I was right, that she was who I thought she was.

“You used to, a very long time ago, a very, very long time ago. A time when…”

“Don’t go on. I’ve got you now, Leonard, it is Leonard, isn’t it?”

“Yes. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. What are you doing here?”

“I live here, well not here, not at this café, but here in Swallow Cove, I moved here when I retired.”

Jill looked up at me, and I couldn’t decide if she was happy to see me, or annoyed that I’d interrupted something. I smiled hopefully, and suddenly her manner changed.

“You alone?”

“Yes, my wife died a couple of years ago.”

She looked at me, a strange but somehow familiar smile on her face.

“I meant here, now.”

“Oh, sorry, yes. You? Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I’m a widow too. Do you want to sit down and join me?”

“Thanks, I’ll just fetch my coffee.”

I turned and walked back to the bench from which I’d been idly watching the ocean and the people that wandered the foreshore as I sat and drank my morning coffee. The wasn’t much else to do these days, so this had become a bit of a ritual. Sometimes I felt that I was just filling in time until I died. Life, or doing anything with it, seemed pretty much over. But this was interesting. Jill had been my first love, and my first lover, until, just after we’d moved in together, she came across my stash of porn mags, been highly outraged and had never spoken to me again. Years later I heard she’d married and moved away. Not very much later, I married too. Looking back, which was all I seemed to do nowadays, I settled for Karen because she was available and never said no to me. At the time, I thought I was in love with her. Forty years, and three kids later, it occurred to me, at her funeral of all places, that I’d never actually been in love with her. She’d just been available, and good enough. But I’d always been looking for someone that was another Jill.

When I got back to her table, Jill had removed her coat and placed it on the bench seat next to her, so that I had to sit facing her, rather than alongside her where I could have looked out at the sea. It also meant I was looking straight at the expanse of exposed bosom that mounded from her low cut dress. She’d not been under-developed as a young woman, but she certainly had big, old-woman’s tits now. And she knew it.

“You’re looking very well,” she started as I sat down and tried not to stare at her cleavage. “You some sort of gym junkie?”

“No,” I laughed, “I just eat healthily and walk a lot… well I try to, it gets harder as I get older. And what about you, you’re looking very well.”

“For my age?”

There it was, that pugnacious edge. It was like she was happy to see me, and also not.

“I didn’t say that. But, now you come to mention it…”

She looked at me, outrage at the apparent insult flashing to her face, but then she relaxed and saw that I was teasing.

“Yes, I’m not a teenager any more. Not for a very long time.”

“Yes, but you still look like you. I saw you from over there, and straight away I knew it was you. You still look like you did.”

“Apart from the grey hair, being forty years older and twice the weight, you mean?”

“You’ve still got the same smile.”

“Still got a porn collection?” Straight to the point. There was nothing wrong with her memory.

“Not any more. It’s all online nowadays, not that I can do anything about it.”

“Why not? Use it or lose it, isn’t that what they say?”

“Well, I guess I’ve lost it then. I’ve not had…” I looked around and then whispered, “sex, since my wife died. And not for as decade or two before that, if I’m honest.”

She looked at me, and there was sadness and compassion in her eyes.

“I was sorry, you know, later. It took me time, but in time I grew up.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s over and too late now.”

“No, Jill, what do you mean? You said something, so you meant something. Don’t just dismiss it as if it doesn’t matter. It clearly does.”

Her eyes rolled. “You’ve not changed then, you’re just as I remember you, just as I’ve thought you were all these years. Just what I couldn’t see when I was young.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“But you want to understand, don’t you? You’ve no idea how rare that is, a man wanting to understand. Well, in my experience anyway,” she concluded, somewhat wistfully.

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it. Three times I’ve been married. The last time for twenty odd years, but never once to a man who wondered what I felt or wanted. They all just assumed I wanted what they wanted, or didn’t care if I didn’t.”

“Presumably you did, of you wouldn’t have stuck with him for forty years.”

“No, I just had the kids, then I just gave up, settled for what I had. Settled until the boring bastard died on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Sometimes it’s better to be single and live alone.”

“You’ve got children, though, haven’t you?”

“Ey, and grandkids. But they all live hours away. They only come and see granny when they have to.”

“I know that feeling,” I laughed, trying to make light of the loneliness of old age.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I realised later that you had those girlie mags, not because you were a pervert, but because you wanted to know and that was the only source of information in those days.”

“Yes, and I liked looking at tits, I won’t deny it.”

Jill laughed.

“You certainly liked looking at mine.”

“I still would.”

The words were out before I had thought about what I was saying, and before I could pull them back.

“Ha’way with you. I’m old and fat and they are saggy.”

“You are still you.”

“And you are still the bloke that took my virginity. I never forgot that.”

“We did it together, you and me, both.”

“I never knew that! I thought you were the experienced one. What about that tall girl, I thought you’d been going out with her. What was her name? Janet, or something?”

“Don’t remember. No, you were my first. And best.”

Jill blushed.

“Stop it. I was never any good at it, I just lay there and let you do what you wanted.”

“I don’t remember it like that. Not at all.”

She blushed again, and picked up her coffee cup, looking at me intently as she sipped at the hot beverage. She grinned.

“What?” I asked, genuinely wondering what was amusing her so much.

“I used to look at you and get moist. You’re the only man that ever did that to me.”

“What about your husbands?”

“The first two were useless. And the last was in, dry, and quick.” She shuddered, as if a horrible memory had been brought to the surface. “Not like you, you took ages. You…” She dropped her voice to a whisper, “you used to make me cum.”

“So why did you marry them?”

“The first two because I was young thought I was in love. And the last one because the first time we did it, he bloody came before he put a condom on and I got pregnant.”

I thought of the hours and hours that Karen and I had screwed each other’s brains out, the weekends when we seemed to do nothing but screw as if it was the only thing that we had between us, and perhaps it was, except the kids. Hours and hours of physically but emotionally unsatisfying sex.

“I wish I’d treated you better.”

“If ifs and ands were pots and pans, beggars would be tinkers.” She replied.

“True enough.”

She looked at me again, that same intense scrutiny, and then she seemed to make a decision. She picked up her coat from the side of her, folded it and placed it on the table to her right.

“Why don’t you come around here and sit next to me? I know you want to be looking at the waves, not some fat old woman.”

“The view is very nice,” I said, correcting her implication, but getting up and moving anyway. I sat next to her and our arms brushed as we sat on the bench seat. No sooner had I sat down than Jill’s hand moved under the table and rested on my thigh.

I nearly said something, but let it pass, unable to think of something witty that didn’t sound crass.

We sat in silence

“Sorry,” she said and lifted her hand, but I quickly I caught her wrist and guided her back to my leg, trying to repress a shiver as her fingers crept to my crotch.

Again we sat in silence and I wished my cock would harden as it did when I was young. Slowly, after about what seemed like five long minutes, it started to wake up.

“Bloody hell, Leonard, you didn’t shrivel up and die, did you?” She put her lips to my ear. “It feels bloody massive.” Her hand pulled away quickly. “Sorry, you must think I’m a disgusting old slut.”

“No, I think you’re the woman I’ve missed for forty years.”

“Oh, Leonard.” She was almost in tears. “You are such a sweetie, do you want to go back to mine and relive our youth?”

“I don’t even know if I still can,” I replied sadly, trying to remember the last time I’d even tried to have a wank.

“Do you want to try?”

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