Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks (5 page)

“So, this is the room you grew up in?”

“Indeed. Had my first orgasm right there on that bed.”

“Ah. Who, pray tell, was the lucky girl?”

“She’s right here, actually. Let me introduce you, wife-to-be.”

I spank her.

“Ha, ha, Rosy Palmer—every girl’s nemesis.”

“Yep.”

“So, you’ve never had a woman in your childhood bed?”

“Nope. Fantasized about it a lot.”

“Mm, let’s change that right now,” she insists as we undress in seconds and go at it like teens.

It seems so naughty with my family downstairs. That’s the brand of danger and excitement she’s brought into my life. I’m growing addicted to it ... to her. Surely, she’s playing games with me about the engagement, but a lifetime with my kinky Lovergirl might not be so bad.

Chapter Fifteen

The best cure for hypochondria is to forget about your body and get interested in someone else’s. – Goodman Ace

Bea falls asleep quickly as I spoon her. I lie there for a few minutes enjoying the scent of her hair, taste of her neck, and warmth of her skin. Then I slide away without disturbing her, and return downstairs to spend some time with my family.

“You’ve outdone yourself. Bea’s delightful.”

“I know, Mom. I’m fortunate. What’s this?” I ask as I sit at the table. There’s a ring box, which I pick up and examine.

“Open it,” Mom directs me.

Inside is my mother’s engagement ring.

“Mom, I can’t ...”

“Hush. Your father worked hard to afford that ring, and it meant so much to me that he would choose to give it to me. He would have wanted you to have it and make someone feel special again.”

“Jesus.”

I welled up at the table, glad that Bea didn’t catch me. I miss my father, and I’m honored by Mom’s gesture.

“OK, thank you.” I give her a big hug and my brother slaps my shoulder. “Look, let’s keep this a secret for now.”

“You do the right thing and plan a nice surprise for her out west. And, don’t be afraid to get your knee dirty.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Have someone take pictures and post them on Facebook, so you can annoy the rest of the family,” Neal teases. He knows how much I hate those inane status updates.

“Funny, Bro.”

We chat for a while. Bea finally joins us, wearing sweats—which is odd, but I’ve learned to expect the strange from her. The four of us feast as my mother keeps refilling plates.
What should I do with the ring? Does she even want to marry me, or is this just a game?
I try to avoid thinking about the ring box in my pocket.

“So, what do you two have planned for this evening?”

“I thought it would be fun if Mormon gave me a little tour of your town.”

“Perfect. Take my car,” Neal offers. “No racing, and get her home by midnight or you’re grounded.”

“Aye, aye.”

We cruise around town as I point out the places my buddies and I used to hang out. We pass an old drive-in theater that has been closed for decades, a local fast food franchise known for its awesome bratwurst, and arrive at the high school football field.

“Ooh, let’s go in.”

“Sure, why not?”

Hand-in-hand, we walk the track around the outside of the abandoned football field. It brings back memories. I was never talented enough to play, but always enjoyed supporting my school. Bea leads me to the old wooden bleachers behind the home end zone.

“Sit there. I have a present for you,” Bea teases.

She pulls off her top and peels down her sweats to reveal a cheerleader outfit in my high school’s colors.

“No way!”

“Tell me you never fantasized about having sex with a cheerleader.”

“I’d be lying. Are you going to do a cheer for me?”

“I was hoping for something a little more intimate,” she said as she approached and straddled me while unbuttoning my jeans.
Oh, dear God, she’s not wearing panties, either. Sex in the high school bleachers? This is so wrong!

We make love quietly while peeking around to make sure the coast is clear. Suddenly, I feel a sharp prick.

“Fuck!”

“What?”

“I think I just got a splinter.”

“Ha, ha, ha! Let me see.”

“No! God damn it.”

“Don’t start swearing, or you’ll get me all worked up and more splinters.”

I don’t know how much more intimate it can be than limping home and having a lover tweeze a splinter from your ass cheek and apply peroxide and Neosporin. Sexy, huh?

Chapter Sixteen

A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of. – Ogden Nash

The next morning, I get up early to cook breakfast for Mother’s Day. Bea has a business meeting in the city, so I plan to spend all day with Mom, visiting relatives. I chat with Bea as she packs.

“The limo comes at ten,” she informs me.

“All right. You
are
flying back with me tonight, right?”

“No, sweetie, I need to stay one more night.”

“Fine, I’ll just hang with ‘The Hammer’ again. I have a surprise for
you
tonight before my flight. Are you game?”

“Absolutely.”

We kiss and part. I make a few calls and arrange a brief private skate at the Flyer’s practice arena.
That should hit the spot.
Since the arena is near the airport, it should work out well. I text her late in the afternoon.

Mormon Silver: Lovergirl, meet me at 333 Preston Avenue in Vorhees at 8pm.

Bea Plastique: What’s there?

Mormon Silver: An adventure. No cheating by looking it up, either.

Bea Plastique: OK, deal.

When the limo pulls up to the arena, Bea greets me with a grin and a hug.

“A skating rink, Uncle M? Do you skate?”

“Um, hell no.”

“But, you will with me?”

“I’ll try. Luckily, nobody except the night guard will be here, so only two witnesses.”

We toss on some rental skates and head out on the ice. She skates with ease, gliding around the rink while wearing a huge smile. I cling to the side boards like a child in the deep end of a pool.

“God, it has been years since I’ve skated. Come on. Hang on to me,” she offers.

“How emasculating.”

I get the hang of it after a few laps, or so I think. Then I catch an edge and flop down on the ice, dragging her with me. The ice is cold, but she warms me so I hardly notice. We kiss and caress each other. She backs me up against the corner boards and stares mischievously.

“Ever done it on the rocks?”

“Only Scotch.”

She starts undoing my jeans.

“You’re crazy. Stop.”

“Nope, somebody here deserves a legendary blowjob, and I know it’s not me.”

“But, it’s freezing cold.”

“Stop your whining. It will be good for your sore butt.”

Bea delivers as promised, and I’m fascinated by the strange combination of sensations and the fear of being caught. After she finishes me off, she tries to help me up.
Fuck, my jeans are stuck, frozen to the ice.
Bea laughs and skates away. She digs through her purse and comes back with piece of paper and a pen. It’s her Rules.

“How is that supposed to get me loose?”

“Sign it and see,” she offers as she hands me the pen.

“Fine,” I relent since it’s no use; I’m stuck. I sign on my knee and hand her the pen. “Now, get me up.”

“Thank you, Uncle M.”

Bea winks and skates away.
Not again!
As she skates, she tears up the Rules of Sexual Engagement and tosses them into the air like snow.

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t need an agreement; I just wanted to know you’d sign it. Bye for now, lover. Have a safe flight.”

“What? Hey! Wait! Get back here!”

It’s no use, she’s gone. I can’t leave without pants and my phone is with my bag in the skate rental area. I can’t believe she got me again. If I don’t come up with something soon, I’ll miss my flight. I decide to release myself the only way I can imagine: I pee my pants.

Chapter Seventeen

The heart has its reasons, which the mind cannot comprehend. – Blaise Pascal

I barely make it to the airport in time. I jog to the gate, and am one of the final few down the jetway. At least I have my same first class seat. When I arrive at my row there’s a large fellow seated in seat 2B. Naturally, I assume Lovergirl set this up.
Another hockey hero of mine? Can’t be. He’s black.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Fine. You?”

“I’ve had better days.”

“Almost missed the flight, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

I detect a French accent. He’s close to my age, and large enough for me to appreciate not being squeezed next to him in coach.

“My name is Mormon.”

“Tom.”

“Nice meeting you. Are you ...”

“... Canadian. I’m from Montreal.”

It couldn’t be.

“Ah, chilly up there. Have you been to San Diego?”

“Yep. I usually fly out once a year to visit family.”

“Good hockey in Montreal.”

“You a fan?”

“Huge. Flyers, though. Sorry. You?”

“Canadiens. No playoffs this year for us. Ever play?”

It must be just a coincidence.

“Funny you should ask. I can’t even skate. I went to the Flyers’ practice rink on the way to the airport and ... well ... got stuck there. You ever play?”

“I actually played for the Canadiens back in the day.”

“Hold on. Tomas LeBaleur?”

“One and the same.”

“You’re Bea’s Uncle.”

My mind races.

“Ah, you know my niece? Small world.”

I stare straight ahead trying to make sense of it all.

“This is fucked up on so many levels.”

“How so?”

“You’re Bea’s uncle—the hockey player who took her virginity.”

“Look, Mormon ...”

“You’re Uncle Tom ...
and
you’re African-American.”

“African-Canadian.”

I can’t help it. I laugh nervously.

I’m tempted to ask for a seat change, but I have genuine feelings for this bizarre woman, and I want to know how she became so strange.

“I’m not proud of what happened. It ruined my career and got me ostracized from the family. Shit, Alanis Morissette even wrote a song about it. I can’t step foot in Canada.”

“‘Uninvited’?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn.”

“When the scandal broke, the NHL severed all ties with me and cut off my pension. They even took my name off the Stanley Cup.”

“Dude, you have to admit it’s kind of fucked up to take a niece’s virginity.”

“Totally. We spent a lot of time together. I was dabbling in drugs, having problems at home, and doing some stupid things. Haven’t you ever fantasized about a relative?”

“Maybe a distant cousin, but that’s just a fantasy. You
went
there.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Now, your niece has these crazy hockey fetishes.”

“And, yet you love her.”

“I do, damn it. Shit. I don’t know how to deal with this. You’re not still having relations with her, are you?”

“Hell, no. That was over ten years ago. We have a platonic relationship now. I’m just glad she doesn’t hate me like the rest of my family. My own children won’t see me.”

“Sorry, man.”

We chat throughout the flight, and although I can’t entirely relate to what happened between them, I understand how it can happen and can sense the remorse in his voice. By the time we land, I feel more sorrow than anger toward him. His lack of control took away everything he loved. Is it safe for me to lose control and love Bea, or will I lose everything?

Chapter Eightteen

What we love we shall grow to resemble. – Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

I shake hands and part amicably with Uncle Tom. I understand a bit more about Lovergirl, but I’m not sure if a genuine relationship with her is possible. Her texts come in; I ignore them, unsure if I’m ready to discuss her latest shenanigans. Even Eric leaves a message, checking if I’m alive. I text back saying I’m fine and just need some solo time.

That night, while discussing my predicament with my good buddy, Jim Beam, I glance around the bar at other options—none of whom excite me in the slightest.
I miss her.

Later, I catch up on my blogging duties and go to bed early. While soundly asleep, I begin dreaming of Lovergirl and feel her enveloping me like a huge wave with an undertow. She’s dragging me out to sea with her. I don’t fight it. Then, I hear her whisper...

“Hello, Uncle M.”

She’s here!

“Jesus, Bea.”

“Miss me? I was worried about you.”

“Yes, of course I miss you,” I confess as I turn over and draw her near. She’s completely naked and trembling slightly. “You’re freezing.”

“Warm me up, my love.”

I push away a bit.

“That was fucking twisted, what you put me through on that flight.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you? It hasn’t been easy for me to deal with meeting the infamous Uncle Tom. Are you fantasizing about being with him when you’re with Uncle M?”

“No, Mormon. Never. You wanted to know more about me, and I always knew this thing in my past was going to rear itself eventually. I had to see if you could deal with it before I fell for you even more.”

“I got angry when I realized who he was, but it turns out he’s a sad man who is paying dearly for a mistake.”

“It happened. I don’t see it as a mistake. Love has its own rules. True, I was young and impressionable, and he took advantage of the situation. Honestly, I loved him, and still do—in a different way. He’s a good person with a kind heart. He doesn’t deserve to be punished forever.”

“I’ve done some foolish things for love. So be it. This brought you into my life, so I can’t regret it.”

“You’re sweet.”

I feel a tear drip on my shoulder as I pull her tightly to me. I kiss her eyes dry. We sleep intertwined physically and emotionally.