We thought midlife hadn't been hard enough up until now so we decide to date while we trudged through the Celibate Desert together.
We're so, so thirsty, y'all.
We met about five weeks ago in Sydney, spent a week together, in the outback of Australia, falling in love and fighting temptation. That was a month ago and while we had stayed in touch daily, we hadn't been able to actually touch each other. He lives in L.A., I live in Dallas and we're busy. Honestly, how was this ever going to work?
It was a Friday night, Independence Day weekend. Gerry’s FaceTime rang just as I sat down with my feet up after a crushing workweek. It had been a month of seeing the man I was dating online and nothing more after our overseas flight, a trip that seemed so very long ago.
“Hey, Baby,” Gerry spoke in that breathy Hollywood voice. “What are you doing this weekend?” He's an actor and since I've met him, I've had a chance to watch his movies. He's impressive but he seems over impressed with an executive assistant - me.
“Attempting to overcome sexual frustration,” I said, honestly, looking away from his gaze on the phone.
“Same. Mare, read me your romance novel,” he begged, making me laugh. He was trying again to persuade me to read my unpublished book and my first reaction is always no, get away from me, Gerry. But I thought about it because I was starting to crack and the consequences of reading it to him seemed to matter less as the days wore on.
“All right, Gerry but you’re going to need to sign a waiver saying I’m not responsible for what happens to you,” I warned and he nodded eagerly. “Let me get my iPad.”
“Mare, can you move the phone back a little? I can’t see your shirt,” he said, and I laughed.
“Why don’t I just take off my top?”
“Finally!” he replied, like he had been waiting for me to come to the same conclusion. I moved the phone back a little, leaving my shirt right where it was.
“Are you ready for our FaceTime Bodice Ripper Episode?” I asked and he agreed that he was indeed ready. I read softly:
‘He started the engine, and I crossed my legs in the car as we sat in the parking lot. He glanced over and then he slowly ran his hand up my thigh, under my tight skirt, reaching bare skin at the top of my stocking, and I uncrossed my legs. I leaned my head back into the headrest and gasped as I raised myself up in the seat a little more.
“Drive,” I said, exhaling loudly and he did. Then I cried out and he put his other hand near my mouth, and I bit down on the meaty part of his finger and held on for dear life. He roughly whispered a single word in my ear, and I bit down harder on his hand.’
I looked up at Gerry’s face on my phone. He was on the edge of his seat and looked as if he were in shock. He licked his dry lips, swallowed hard and then asked, “What did he whisper?”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” I answered, not wanting to reveal everything in my heart.
He paused a minute. “Oh. My. Gah-” Gerry exclaimed, putting his face in his hands.
“It’s not exactly lyrical writing but- ” I interrupted, looking down and scrolling.
“Mare, just stop talking a minute,” Gerry begged, closing his eyes, and running his hands over his face and his fingers up and through his hair. He heaved a great sigh and then he took a large gulp of iced tea. Gerry asked me to read it to him twice more, the last time without my reading glasses and I am certain he hit “record” at some point on our FaceTime.
If you want to know what happened after that, you'll have to read Saltair. :)
Copyright Mare Loch 2021 Saltair: The Mid Life Celebrity Love Life of an Ex-Housewife © All rights reserved.
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