The Depth of Things to Come Ch. 01

I tried not to think about Drew as I got undressed. It was one of those rare humid summer days, and my tank top clung to my breasts as I lifted it gently off and flung it to the ground. It landed on an empty Ben and Jerry's carton. Gasping from the heat and exasperation, I scurried around my room attempting to clear away the evidence of three weeks' heartbreak. I was slightly disappointed in myself. I had never wanted to be one of those girls. I had never wanted to sob into my pillow and curse his filthy name at the top of my lungs on the phone with one of my girlfriends. I had always thought of myself as a smart girl, those I suppose it was only relative. I never got wrapped up in high school drama, and I spent most of my free time reading English literature or drawing anatomical sketches of the little birds perched outside my window. In fact, I doubt I would have had an interest in boys at all had I not be so inconceivably and uncontrollably horny.

My friends couldn't understand me. They all had had their hookups and boyfriends, but they viewed sex as more of a chore than a treat. Most of my friends were tall with washboard stomachs and perky, if small, breasts which they made no effort to conceal, and yet the majority of their sexual encounters had been at the urging, begging rather, of their significant others. I was different though. For one, I stood at 5"1' and couldn't keep a relationship going for the life of me. It wasn't as though I hadn't tried. I would have given my soul to be able to feel the love and appreciation I imagined they all must feel when someone loves them, but for one reason or another I was the girl who always got dumped.

"Jenna, please come out with us tonight. You shouldn't be alone right now," my friend Cassidy pleaded with me night after night. But it was always the same story: the attraction, the lust, the affection, the refusal. I was just stupid enough to believe that just because I put out it would make them want to be with me.

"Don't be too easy Jenna, boys like a challenge. Maybe you should focus on yourself for once," this was another of Cassidy's favorite arguments. But they just didn't understand. I wasn't giving myself to these boys out of obligation or some low self-esteem complex. I wanted cock. It was just my taste in men that was getting in the way.

I bent down to remove my gym shorts. The clock read 4:38. Almost time. As I searched for something decent to wear, my eyes roved over my lace panties lying abandoned in my top drawer. Automatically my mind flashed to Drew. His hands were innocent exploring my outer folds, one hand cupping my pussy gently, the other probing uncertainly inside me.

I tried not to be turned on by the memory. After everything, I thought he would be different somehow. I had always struggled to find boys my age with the same mental capacity for the things I enjoyed. The conversations were always too dull, or otherwise completely beyond my interest. But Drew...from the moment I met him three years ago I knew that he and I understood something about one another. He was brilliant with a wit quicker than mine, and a mouth that got him in more trouble than anyone I knew. Perhaps his insecurities stemmed from his appearance, or perhaps his mother's domineering, but he always loathed himself in secret, and the first time I sensed this weakness in him was the first time I was dying to have him inside me.

But no, his religion always had to get in the way. I deeply respected Christianity, but he was the furthest thing from honest, and his hypocrisy drove his few friends even further away...You still have me...I pushed these thoughts away as I felt tears welling behind my eyes. Tonight was supposed to be about getting away from here.

I decided finally on a tight fitting, yet classy lace black dress. I may have been slightly curvier than my waifish model friends, but I knew how to dress myself. I eyed myself in the mirror until I was satisfied that I looked the perfect mix between sexy and modest. After all, despite my desire to look good for the first time in weeks, I was only going to my aunt and uncle's house for the week. My mom thought it would be good for me to get away where I could breathe and forget about that whole fiasco. After I was content with my makeup, I took one last look before gathering up my jacket and phone. I had small, sparkly greenish eyes, which looked rather tired and dull at the moment. My smooth skin was still a shade lighter than I'd have liked to be, but my petite nose and small, yet full raspberry lips quenched this annoyance. Maybe this visit won't be so bad...

When I arrived on the front steps of my aunt and uncle's country estate, my hair was in wild disarray. I had long, golden curls which had now become a tangle of wild locks and I groaned as I tried to rearrange them so I would look civilized again. My mind flashed on my mother and how disappointed she was in me. You have all this...everything your father and I saved for you, and you still aren't happy. When is anything going to be good enough for you Jenna?

The answer was I had no idea, but the great marble giant that was the home of Auntie Leanne and Uncle Bryan reminded me sharply of all that I really did have going for me. My family had a moderate amount of money, I was young and moderately accomplished for my age. But you don't have a boyfriend. I tried to shake the thought as I entered the bright, elegant house.

Auntie Leanne was cleaning a spilled glass of wine off of her sparkling hardwood, and she squeaked like a little canary when she saw me. She was a tiny woman with frizzy, strawberry blonde hair and she embraced me like a daughter as she led me out onto the back deck.

"Your uncle is still in his study, but I think you'll recognize a few familiar faces in the crowd. I've invited all the family friends who knew you when you were just a little girl. We're all so proud to see you graduate with honors."

"It was high school Auntie...hardly an accomplishment."

"Oh don't be so critical Jenna, your mom thought it was quite the accomplishment too."

"Doubt it," I muttered.

"Anyway sweetie, just go and put your bags in your old bedroom on the East side. Oh, and if you see your uncle, please try to convince him to come down and be social. Some of his friends are here too, should he decide to grace us with his presence."

After stowing my things in the old kid's bedroom I occupied during most of the summers of my childhood, I made my way out onto the exquisite terrace. Uncle Bryan, who had always been my favorite relative, had kissed my cheek and then flatly refused to come down. I was disappointed I had no one to talk to, but I understood why he was hiding. Uncle Bryan and I were not blood related, but he and I shared a strong dislike of social activities.

I looked out onto the crowd, mostly in their thirties, forties, and fifties, and was actually grateful my aunt had neglected to invite any of the children I had grown up with. I wasn't in the mood for explanations as to why I hadn't returned their phone calls, or why I had been such a recluse these last three weeks. The only thing I had to face were the polite smiles of my aunt's friends.

Wandering around on the terrace, I began to get a fierce headache from all the noise and bright light coming from the sea glass fire pit. I spaced out, staring into the flames and dreaming of what I would be doing if Drew were here right now, when I realized I was unknowingly staring at someone.

I blushed to the temples when I realized who it was. Mr. James Bowen was leaning casually against the wall of the house, with a look of polite amusement on his face as he regarded me. Mr. Bowen was the closest friend of my uncle's, and I remembered him well from my childhood. My cheeks burned hotter as the sight of him recalled the somewhat embarrassing crush I'd had on him when I was a little girl. I used to bring him his newspaper on Sunday mornings when he would stay at my uncle's, and look up at his dark, unfathomable eyes, trying to see if I could guess their color. I was about ten, so my attachment to him was due more to his aura of security than anything else. But looking at him now, I could not believe it had been so long since I had last seen him.

His face was definitely aged, but masculine and refined, like an old man's cologne commercial. He was stubbly and dark around the strong jaw, but a smile played mysteriously at his lips. His sharp features could easily have appeared austere, were it not for his casual light brown hair, now peppered with gray, and his relaxed and slow carriage. I looked at his eyes and remembered when I had at last discovered that they were really midnight blue.

"Hi Mr. Bowen," I said timidly.

"Miss Jenna?" he questioned, moving toward me. "My, my, you certainly have grown up. I heard you just graduated high school."

He reached for my hand to shake it but caught it awkwardly as I attempted to reach his, at which point he lifted it gently and kissed it instead. I giggled embarrassedly, but these were the kinds of things I remembered loving about Mr. Bowen. He had a sort of ageless dignity about him which, at 18, made me feel like I was 12 again.

"How have you been Mr. Bowen?"

"It's James to you darling," he smiled like a fond father, seeming to decide I was old enough to be let in on a secret. "And I've been alright..."

"That doesn't sound entirely convincing Mr. Bow...Uh, James."

He grimaced by the firelight. "Well, what can you expect from a man my age? I'm forty nine, unmarried, and unemployed at the moment. I wouldn't say this is my finest hour," he faltered as he caught my look of concern, "It's good to be back here though."

But I couldn't help but feel wounded by this man's misfortunes. He had always been supportive to me when I was younger, and I couldn't believe someone so intelligent and worldly was unemployed, not to mention unmarried...

"What happened with you and your wife? Didn't you get married a few years back? I don't think I ever met her...What was her name, Alexandra?"

He blinked at my bluntness. "You have a good memory. Yeah, I married Alexandra a few years after I moved to Pennsylvania to teach criminal psychology. I just don't think it was the right time for us...she was a successful, busy woman, and I was distant and not really in her league, you know? Not classy enough for her, I think..."

The words had escaped my lips before I could stop them, "I think you're wrong. I think you were too good for her."

I knew I had gone too far, and I read the leap of surprise in his deep eyes. I lowered my gaze, afraid that I would see annoyance and disdain echoed in them, but on the contrary, I saw his glance flicker to my cleavage burgeoning from the folds of black lace gathered about my bodice. Surely, I just imagined that.

"Well that's....that's very sweet of you Jenna, but I don't think you really know what kind of a man I am."

His voice became deeper and quieter, as though filled with the accent of distant sorrow. He looked away for a moment, and in the firelight I traced the wrinkles gathering about his eyes with my gaze. He certainly was a great deal older than I, but somehow his energy was invigorating and stimulating as a young man's. My old fondness for Mr. Bowen came flooding back into my system. I had forgotten how much I missed him.

"So, where's your Uncle Bryan?" he said, breaking the silence, "I've been looking for him since I got here."

"In the study," I said wryly, "Where else?"

Mr. Bowen and I exchanged knowing glances. He was the only person apart from myself who could bear my uncle's eccentricities.

"I should have guessed. Brilliant man, your uncle is, but absolutely predictable."

Something about the way he said it seemed to insinuate that he wasn't predictable. I caught the faint glimmer in his eyes. He looked stoic and classy in his tailored smoking jacket and well-fitting pants. I can't believe I'm thinking this, but this man is kind of....well, he's kind of sexy. You know, for an old guy....

Just then I heard a familiar shriek of excitement, and the next moment I was buried in a tight hug beneath a flurry of long chocolate brunette hair.

"Aubrey!" I panted beneath the squeeze of her hug, "Wow, I didn't know you were coming."

Aubrey Hart was my childhood best friend. She and I had been nearly inseparable since my cousin's fourth birthday party, at which the two of us had reputedly both attempted to steal a taste of the fudge pyramid cake, and in the struggle managed to knock it off the table and into a heap atop the both of us. She was my aunt's best friend's daughter, and I was pleased to see her after her five year trip to Spain. She was now tan and freckled, but still pretty with her bright smile and long hair.

"Jenna, oh my goodness, I have so much to tell you, and don't you dare be all surly and brooding when I do because you are going to be so jealous of my last four summers. I wish you could have been there!"

I smiled at her, and to my ultimate surprise, a young man I'd never met before was standing at her side. He was burly and tan, about our age, with wavy black hair and a hard line for lips. When she finally released me from her embrace I looked around for Mr. Bowen and he had gone.

"Jenna, this is my boyfriend Salvador. He was meant to be an exchange student but..." she made disgusting puppy eyes at the boy and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.

"Nice to meet you," I said shaking Salvador's hand. He seemed pleasant enough, shy perhaps, and he was eyeing me with confused interest.

"Oh sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt," Aubrey said seeing my expression, "Who was that guy you were talking to anyway?"

"That's James Bowen, Aubrey, don't you remember him?"

"That was Mr. Bowen? Oh my god, I didn't even recognize him. How old do you think he is now?"

"He's forty nine," I answered quickly. "I think he looks good."

"Didn't you name a Ken doll after him when we were like eight?"

Please do not tell him that. I thought to myself.

At about nine o'clock the adults were drunk enough to let Aubrey and I have glasses of champagne. Aubrey was gulping them down quickly and leaning on her quiet boyfriend, while I was sipping gently on my second glass. I didn't know what had come over me. I should have been overjoyed to be back here with Aubrey, but for some reason I found myself looking around for Mr. Bowen. I was beginning to think he had gone to bed, when Aubrey tugged on my arm.

"Aww Jen, remember this? Your aunt always used to do this at her summer kick-off parties. So romantic..."

The grand patio in the center of the terrace was being cleared of all the chairs and tables surrounding it. I knew instantly what this ceremony meant. I heard the music flood gently into my sleepy ears and my eyes watered a little at the touching memories. When Aubrey and I had been younger, Aunt Leanne had always played her wedding song and encouraged all the guests to get together and slow dance while she danced with my Uncle Bryan. It was a stupid, sentimental little thing really, but it made me a bit melancholy to think of now. Year after year Aubrey and I had lain under the dessert table, heads propped up on our elbows, watching the adults dance. We used to pretend that at any moment a handsome prince would lift up the table cloth and carry us both out to the center of the dance floor.

"Remember Jen?" she was still saying. But Aubrey was beginning to sway in her tipsy state. Grabbing Salvador around the waste she muttered, "Wanna dance babe?"

I watched the two of them sway awkwardly on the dance floor, joined quickly by many of the other older couples, some of them the same ones we had watched dance so elegantly as children. Mr. and Mrs. Rice were holding each other close, Mr. Galloway and his girlfriend were trying very hard not to bicker as they whirled about the floor violently...It was a very lonely feeling. I was ashamed to admit that I had imagined doing this dance with Drew more than once in our brief relationship.

I was suddenly aware of movement beside me, and I looked over to see Mr. Bowen at my side. He had appeared silently, as though he had always been there.

"Does it make you sad, James?" I asked quietly.

"Does what make me sad sweetheart?" he was very close to me now, and his voice vibrated pleasantly in my ear.

"Being alone," I said, gesturing to the couples now gathering around my aunt and uncle, who seemed finally to have emerged from his seclusion. He never missed the dance.

"You're not alone," he said, looking at me seriously.

I attempted to say something back, but it was swallowed in a flood of sudden emotion. I had no idea what was happening to my body, to my mind, but suddenly I felt weak and nervous, he was so large and strong next to my tiny frame.

"Do you want to dance Jenna?" he asked suddenly.

"I...w-what?" I stuttered stupidly.

He looked hard at me, as though trying to figure out the proper phrasing, "Will you dance with me?"

I didn't say a word, but my eyes must have said it all because I felt his large, rough hands close around mine as he put one on his shoulder and the other firmly grasped in mine. It was the single strangest experience of my life. Here was a man who I had grown up knowing as an uncle, over twice my age, and he was dancing with me like a gentleman out of a storybook. He didn't bother to lead me out onto the dance floor, we simply stayed where we were, on the edge of the balcony, in a sort of indescribable trance.

His hand caressed my lower back delicately. He seemed utterly uncertain whether or not his actions were appropriate, but somehow it didn't seem strange to me at all. I pulled in slightly closer to him, smelling his thick scent on his neck. He smelled so different from all the other men. It was stronger, more natural and masculine than all the Axe covered teenagers I had fucked. His face hovered just inches from my neck. I could feel his hot, steady breath on me. I was startled when I felt a warm flood begin to gush into my panties. Oh my god. I think I want this man.

While my nipples hardened through my tight dress and my eyes dilated stupidly, I suddenly realized the absurdity of the situation. He certainly didn't think of me that way. I was a little girl in his mind, and always would be. He was obviously dancing with me to be polite. He couldn't be half as turned on as I was.

But slowly, as the song came near its end, he pulled me closer to his body, my breasts rubbing lightly against his chest as he did. I pressed myself further towards him and soon felt the warm firmness of his body against mine. I felt his hand stray imperceptibly lower on my back.

Just as the song was ending, I felt it. The erection in his pants was brushing my body gently. I'm certain he didn't know I felt it, otherwise there was no way he would have been comfortable with it. Nonetheless I felt my hips gyrate involuntarily at the feel of his stiff cock.

When the song ended he slowly drew away from me, and seemed to suddenly become aware of the obviousness of his erection. Embarrassedly he tried to conceal it, but as it was so large and tight through his pants, he kissed me brusquely on the forehead and made some excuse to run off and check on something.

I didn't care. I stood there smiling, absolutely dumbstruck, biting my lower lip and staring after him. Holy shit, I don't think I've ever been this wet in my life. What did he do to me? I knew it was wrong, but my mind started playing out fantasies in the corner of my imagination where I was sprawled naked across his bed.

I didn't see much of Mr. James Bowen for the rest of the night. My seeing his arousal had apparently scared him off, and I didn't blame him for being apprehensive. I'm eighteen for god's sake! But my mind didn't stray from him for a moment. I was drunk on the way I felt after that dance. Every breath I took was the strongest high I'd ever experienced. His face bounced around in my mind making my heart pound with delicious flutters. I had to have him. I had to have him tonight.