She’d arrived with a small suitcase, much like before. And, just like before I offered her the spare bedroom. I probably should have talked it over with Jennette first, but thankfully, she seemed okay with it.
‘I think telling you no would be worse for us than telling you yes,’ was what she told me and so it was settled although, despite that, I was understandably nervous with both of them in the house especially since Summer, had she changed at all during the last three years, seemed to fall into her old habits overnight…
I woke up the next morning, leaving Jennette in bed half-awake, pulled on my jeans and a tee and, after a quick trip to the bathroom got the coffee brewing.
“Smells good.”
She looked just like I remembered. Her hair was a little longer, but other than that, she really hadn’t changed much. She was wearing a pink tank top with ‘San Diego’ printed across the front. That was it. No panties. Fuck. Here we go again, I thought. Not that I was complaining although I was wondering how Jennette would react. Again, fuck.
As for Summer, she seemed blissfully unaware and went about fixing her coffee.
“Want some help with breakfast?”
“I’ve got it. What do you think about pancakes?” wondering if she remembered our first morning together.
“With blueberries and maple syrup?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds yummy.”
I’d like to pretend that Jennette didn’t bat an eye when she joined us wearing pajama tops and shorts and saw us in the kitchen, me flipping pancakes, Summer standing close, a cup of coffee in her hands, naked from the waist down. At least I was dressed.
“Miss anything?” she asked, her voice sounding far too innocent for my taste.
“No,” I replied, aware that I’d replied far too quickly and that there had been a note of panic in my voice.
“I see,” was all she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the table. A moment later, Summer started getting the plates out, setting them on the table.
“I missed this,” she said, speaking to Jennette, not me. “It’s nice to be back.”
Jennette offered her a smile and then surprised me. “You sort of belong here, I think. Maybe this time you’ll stay longer?”
“Maybe,” she said, sitting down beside my girlfriend and sipping at her cup, thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”
Ice broken, we ate. I’d put in a Yann Tiersen CD before joining them, sitting across from them, closer to Jennette than Summer, but not by much. We talked, catching each other up some on what was going on in our lives, making sure to include Jennette in the conversation. It felt strangely comfortable. Like my girlfriend had said, Summer belonged here. At least, I thought so. I hoped she did too.
Afterwards, I tidied up, Jennette helping me in the kitchen while my niece showered.
“You sure you okay with this?” I asked, a little apprehensively.
“She’s nice. And having her here takes away your sadness. Hers too. I think it will be good to have her here.”
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that short little conversation would have a huge effect on all of our lives.
The old habits mixed well with the new. After her shower, Summer strolled into the living room, naked, her hair damp, got the tin out of the cupboard, and wandered out to the back porch to get high while Jennette took her turn in the bathroom.
Not quite knowing what to do, I joined her, sitting across from her, enjoying the sight of her perpetually stiff nipples.
“What about the book tour?”
“I start in a month.”
She shrugged and took a hit, holding it in, a blissful expression on her face, then letting the smoke out slowly, passing the pipe to me.
“It’s expected.”
“I see.” I took a hit, enjoying the fuzzy feeling that began to grow inside my head. A month.
“How long will it last?”
“Six weeks, I think? I’d rather use the time to write. That’s why I came here, you know. That and because I missed it. I hate LA. You’ve ruined me on it.”
I laughed, shaking my head and passing the pipe back. As she took it from me I became aware that her other hand had disappeared, out of sight beneath the table and, by her subtle movements, I could tell she was playing with herself. Soon, it became more obvious, a faraway look growing in her eyes as her lips parted and she started to moan softly. I took another hit and sat quietly, watching her, wanting her, but content to simply observe. Not long after, Jennette joined us, helping herself to the pipe and pulling up a chair beside me after kissing me softly on the mouth. She, too, was silent, not wanting to disturb our guest as she became more and more lost in pleasure.
“I want to be touched. Please,” she murmured, blushing, her cheeks pink. Unsure, I looked over at Jennette who surprised me by getting up and moving behind Summer and stroking her long strawberry hair tenderly, occasionally brushing her fingertips over the ridge of her ears, along her jaw and cheekbones while I watched, my cock uncomfortably hard in my jeans.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned, trembling, her legs spreading, as she slipped her other hand between her thighs. Moments later she climaxed. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time, especially when my girlfriend leaned over and began to kiss the top of her head tenderly, meeting my eyes, a smile on her lips. A month. I could live with that…
That night, we listened to her, Jennette and I, staying as silent as possible as we heard her soft moans through the wall. She sat on top of me, straddling my hips, my cock deep within her dripping wet pussy, slowly riding me to a crescendo of her own. She climaxed moments after Summer’s third orgasm, collapsing on top of me, her mouth hungry for mine, as I rolled her over on her back and fucked her furiously until I spent my load inside of her and she came again…
We spend a lifetime trying to recapture the magic of that one perfect place in time even though it’s impossible. That time with Summer, especially the time we spent under the old oak tree, her sitting on her swing and writing while I tried to capture something impossible to put into words, let alone on canvass. The undefinable essence that made her Summer and yet, somehow I managed and I became a better painter for it. She was, in many ways, my muse. I like to think that time she spent with me gave her the freedom to discover something inside of her as well, something that, living in LA under the scrutiny of her family, she’d never quite been able to tap in to.
Three years ago we were on a journey, together,discovering something special together. That journey, though, was over. The dynamic had changed, maybe only subtly, but it had. Jennette was part of it. I was in love with her in a way I had never been in love with Summer. I won’t deny that the possibility had always been there. I think that, had she stayed instead of going to Italy, I might have found myself falling for her like I had for Jennette and, I think it would have changed our journey… I think that I was a better painter because she’d left, just as she’d become a better writer as well. That said, she was clearly unhappy where she was, not in terms of what she was doing, but where she was living. I could sense that it she longed for the peace and freedom to simply exist as Summer that she’d found here with me…
I took her out to the spring the next day, feeling guilty that I wanted time with her alone, without Jennette there. Fortunately, my girlfriend seemed to understand my needs better than me.
“Go. Take your easel and paints. And your camera. I’ll be here when you come back.” She smiled and kissed me, and that was that. She even made us a picnic lunch. I think, now, looking back at that time, that’s what had kept us together all these years. She simply trusted that I would always come back to her.
“Have you brought Jennette here?” she asked as I pulled the truck over and parked it.
“No. I haven’t brought anyone.”
“You should.”
“Maybe,” I told her, knowing I was lying. This was more than just a place. It was a moment caught in time, a bubble that held a memory that I wanted desperately to hold onto and preserve, foolish as that might sound. A time when it was just Summer and me enveloped in a comfortable silence.
“A dragonfly trapped in Amber,” she said with a giggle as if she could see my thoughts. Maybe she could.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
She’d put on a sundress earlier. Somethings never changed. Green and scandalously short had we been out in public. She still had nice legs and an amazing ass and nipples that were perpetually hard.
“You still have that painting? The one you did out here? You promised to show it to me.”
“It’s in the attic. I’ve had a lot of offers for it, but yeah, I promised, so there it is.”
She answered with a shy smile that made me want to kiss her. Instead, I set up my easel and began to sketch while she wandered around the field as if trying to reacquaint herself with it. Nothing had really changed. The spring was still there, the wildflowers, the swing still hung from the oak. Nothing had changed. Only, it was different. She was different. So was I and, no matter how much I wanted it to be exactly like as it was, it could never be and I think I was okay with that.
I lost track of her for a while, getting into what I was doing. I realized after a while that I was sketching a memory or, perhaps more accurately, a desire. Summer, not as she was, but as I wanted her to be. That wasn’t up to me, though, so stopped and went over and sat on her swing, swinging slowly, accompanied by the sound of the breeze through the grass and the joyful burble of the spring.
Eventually, she returned, her gaze a little distant. Dreamy. As if, she too, was trying to hold on to a memory. I couldn’t help but smile that she seemed to have misplaced her dress and wore a pair of green lace panties, not because I was a perv, although there was that, but because I was happy that she hadn’t lost that part of her. Without a word I got up and let her have her swing – and yes, it was her swing – and then went back to the truck and got her tablet and my camera…
She spent the entire day writing, breaking occasionally, once for lunch, once to take off her panties and sit quietly on the bank of the spring, feet submerged in the water, and once to simply come sit next to me while I did the same…
“I was a little afraid to come back here.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know if it would be the same,” she finally replied, mirroring my thoughts. “If I was the same.”
“It’s not. You’re not. Everything is different. And it’ll be different tomorrow. I liked your stories.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It felt like you were still here when I read them.”
“Maybe I was.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe I won’t leave this time.”
“What about your book tour?”
She shrugged, a small frown marring her face, then brightened again. It was as if a dark cloud had drifted over us for a moment.
“It would nice to have a place to come back to when it’s over.”
She stood up and went back to her swing while I watched, thinking her ass looked even better than I remembered it. Eventually we both decided that we were hungry and it was time to head back.
“I like your girlfriend,” she told me. “You two fit together.”
“I like her too. And yeah, we do.”
Dinner was nice. I put on Yann Tiersen, much to her delight and afterwards, I cleaned up while the girls went out back and got high together. When I joined them they were both naked which, when I commented, Jennette simply shrugged and giggled.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Later, we made love. Slow and tender and yet incredibly passionate.
“You had a nice day. I can tell.”
“Yeah. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
That settled, she turned over, wiggling closer, so that I could spoon her. We fell asleep that way, waking up once when she shook me gently and giggled when I realized why. We could her Summer through the wall having the mother of all orgasms, apparently.
