All That Blooms in Spring Ch. 02

"Here," she ordered. "Lay here, with your head propped up. Try to relax - and be patient. Don't try to speed it up, just enjoy the feelings." With a sly, sexy smile Ann added, "Doctor's orders."

Ann was by far the most experienced woman I'd ever encountered to that point in my life. Everything was so different from my high school and college encounters - the opposite, actually. Jackie, for as much as I'd loved her, couldn't hold a candle to Ann. From the moment she put her hand on my dick, it felt like I was constantly gasping for air.

She didn't tickle me by trying to find the sensitive spots. She did so, because she already knew what spots to touch. Her technique was slow, which made me almost angry at first. There was a need and urgency within me. But she was right. My ears never heated up, and my face didn't flush. My breathing remained steady throughout.

Finally, a couple of fingers from her other hand below my balls, gently massaging my perineum, set me off. Her grip on my shaft tightened as she saw the first white-hot jet of sperm fly upwards, and, with barely any up-and-down movement, she had me emptying a gallon of pent-up cum all over my stomach and her hands and arms.

The way she squeezed me and applied pressure to my prostate without any insertion, kept me hard - astonishingly hard, and ready for more. Ann removed her jeans, carefully climbed up on top of me, and lowered herself over my shaft.

"Don't you dare move," she told me. "I'll control it." And boy did she ever. I found the entire lovemaking session, well, just that. I knew she was concerned for my health, but the way she controlled the pace, it was making love. There was no other way to describe it. Maybe five minutes later, we both came together. I felt flush that time, and a little light-headed.

Ann stood. "Stay put," she said. "Try to relax all your muscles, and breathe through your nose." She went into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. After cleaning me up, Ann lay down next to me and cuddled into my chest. We soon fell into deep, restful sleep.

After waking in the morning, I was out of sorts - not because I could smell the black oak burning in the fireplace, or the coffee and side pork cooking in the kitchen. I'd dreamt - of Jackie, oddly - and I didn't like what I remembered. In the dream, I was actually searching for her. Our friends had turned out to be some sort of double agents, and they'd tricked my wife away from me. If I'd been like James Bond in the dream, that would have been cool. I hadn't even been close to James Bond. I'd been weak and pathetic, whining and worrying, and relying on others in the dream - mostly faceless, nameless characters - to help me. The worst of it, I realized, was that I'd been heartbroken and frantic. I didn't want to feel like that about her anymore.

Ann came in and we went through our typical morning exercises and walking - back-and-forth - around the rooms of the cabin. As soon as she sat me at the kitchen table, she couldn't hold back her angst any longer.

"Okay, Peter," she scolded, "out with it. Why the long face this morning? Does this have to do with what we did last night?"

"What? No. No!" I answered shocked. "No, Ann. That was... amazing!"

"Then what?" she demanded, like an inquisitor. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

It's... It was a dream," I sighed in response. "I had a dream about... Jackie."

Ann nodded thoughtfully - she seemed to know I was being honest. We ate a quiet breakfast, but immediately afterward, she helped me into my comfortable chair in the living area, near the fire.

"I'll be right back with fresh tea," she told me, "and then I want to hear the story of your wife and you."

I started tentatively. Ann kept interrupting and probing for more specifics. It was a long and tiring morning, as I told her everything, including the events of the night of my accident. Ann listened intently, sitting directly across from me on a chair of her own. I was sure she didn't miss a thing.

After a bathroom break, we settled back in, this time with Ann sitting next to me.

"Well," she began, "now I have a different perspective. What I saw in that brief TV interview I took as raw, unequivocal love. Now, I think it was probably some of that, but mixed with some amount of guilt. Still, there's no doubt that your wife is beside herself with grief and loss. There was a profound sadness in her voice. She was basically pleading, with anyone and no one at all.

"So, the million-dollar question, Peter," she said stoically. "What do you want to do?"

There was a long pause as I considered her question, despite having had plenty of time to think about it. I told Doctor Ann I didn't want her to get in any trouble. I also didn't want to be with Jackie anymore; at least that's what I told myself. I didn't think I could trust her with my heart ever again. I explained all that to Ann and she seemed to understand my predicament. My indecisiveness led us to agree to wait it out a while longer.

So that's what we did. Over the next few weeks, Ann and I became lovers. As I started to rapidly heal, our lovemaking became more strenuous and rewarding. Ann was definitely the teacher and I, the student. When we weren't physically entwined, we were having deep, meaningful discussions.

On Monday, May fifteenth, the day after Mother's Day, that all changed. There was a knock on Ann's cabin door. I quickly tucked myself into the closet in Ann's master bedroom and listened to most of the conversation.

It seemed the infamous five had hired a private investigation firm after the state and local officials had finally called off their search for me. At least that's what Ann was being told. The guy at the door was very brash and pushy. He really wanted into our little cabin. Ann was able to hold him off, but we knew that he - or maybe they - would be back. We figured they'd likely surveil the cabin from a distance.

"I've got to get into town and see if anything's changed." Ann said it with a great deal of distress in her voice. "I'll try to get as much information as I can about what's been happening with their efforts to find you."

"No!" I responded with emphasis. "They may be watching us already. Wait two hours, or they'll suspect."

I gave Ann a list of things we needed. I knew enough about phones and networks to get us internet through a cell signal, even though it wasn't directly in my professional wheelhouse. The little country store wasn't too far away, and they had a signal; which meant a tower was somewhere nearby. I knew it wouldn't be very reliable with all the trees around, but we needed that connection to the outside world - a way to get information. Ann was reluctant, and I sensed she was scared.

"What is it, Ann?" I asked curiously. "What's causing the fear?"

"It's nothing..." she said, trying to diminish my question. "Okay, maybe just from my childhood. My parents worried all the time about someone's ability to track them. I obviously didn't share their concerns, but every once in a while, well, I can't help feel the same."

I made quick work of setting up the new laptop later that evening. Ann had done well, traveling down the mountain to a suburb of Visalia and finding a Best Buy. The trip there and back had been nearly two hours. By eight that night, only stopping for a light meal, I had the phone and the laptop configured - not only to boost a tower signal, but to constantly rotate the IP address by using a VPN. Maybe three-letter government agencies would have the ability to follow it back to its source, but for some private entity, it would be impossible.

Ann and I didn't make love that night. In fact, we barely slept. I'd wake up and see her just watching me. I knew she was worried, and so was I.

The supposed PI returned two days later, and once more towards the end of the week. It was the same guy each time - Dalton, he called himself - and he was really harassing Ann. I wondered who might name their kid Dalton, but what I honestly wanted was to come out of hiding and tell him to fuck off. It gave me a sense of pride to feel that way about my lover - my savior and lover. Ann and I were developing a strong relationship, and I was becoming protective of her.

Within two days, I had almost all the media coverage - local, national, and social - regarding Jackie's missing husband. That is me, I remember thinking.

I had been reported missing at ten-thirty-four the morning after my accident. That one fact spoke volumes to me about my wife and so-called friends. Alise and Jeff had driven down to the market. That probably also meant that Alise' husband, had still been enjoying my wife's wares. The image of that made me want to vomit. Ann understood immediately, too.

By the time local law enforcement had contacted rangers, around noon, a search had already begun. By then, Ann said, she'd been nearly halfway through her life-saving surgery. Putting the events together in a timeline, from both Jackie's and Ann's perspectives helped solidify my decision about the future.

The search had continued for three days. The five backstabbers had gotten motel rooms in the closest town, and the local network media affiliates had taken up residence in the empty parking lot next door to the motel. That had become the base for all communications.

Late on the first day, rescue workers had discovered my backpack hanging from a limb on the downslope where I'd fallen. I found it odd that trackers hadn't found any signs of the makeshift travois on which Ann had dragged me back to her cabin, or any evidence of tire tracks for that matter. It wasn't just odd; it was disturbing. Still, I was enthralled with Ann and decided to keep my concerns to myself.

Jeff had handled the media spokesman duties those first few days. When asked why the group would have allowed me to go out on the trail after dark, he'd made up some mumbo-jumbo about all of us drinking too much, and me being upset about something. When forced to elaborate, he'd claimed the group had had no idea what my state of mind had been, and told the reporters that I'd "Sort of gone off the deep end."

Finally, after seventy-two hours, rescue officials had held a conference to inform the media, that the search-and-rescue operation had been reclassified to 'recovery.' That meant they'd believed me to be dead. Jackie had appeared at the podium an hour later. She'd seemed inconsolable, begging for someone to find me. I watched that interview several times. Ann sat across the room, giving me space but also eyeing me intently. I couldn't help but feel sorry for my wife.

My wife! I thought. Jackie was still my wife, and I loved her - even after what she'd done to me. Ann was on my lap then, and I didn't remember how she'd gotten there. Her warm, soft hand brushed away my tears. She kissed my face, and eventually, our lips found each other's. In almost no time, we were naked and making passionate, desperate love on the sofa. The smell of her was right. Her taste was all right. The way she made love to me was definitely all right and perfect. It wasn't with me, as much as it was to me. The way her body molded into mine after we lay there, exhausted, was almost too good to be true.

When I awoke, I found myself in bed, but I wasn't concerned. I simply concluded my savior had probably taken care of me again. I smelled the coffee and the bacon, and knew everything was alright. I decided to surprise Ann by getting myself to the kitchen table unassisted. Her shock at seeing me hobble into the room was quickly replaced by an amorous smile. My feelings for her were growing like the late spring flowers.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she exclaimed teasingly. "You look very chipper this morning!"

"Chipper?" I teased back. "How old are you anyway?"

"Old enough to know better," Ann said with a brilliant smile across her face, but something was off again. That's something Jackie had often said. It was also a line from one of her favorite country songs. I couldn't recall the name.

"But I'm," I started, and then Ann finished the verse in time with me, "still too young to care."

After a heavy breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee, I began again on the chronology of my disappearance. Three days after Jackie's impassioned pleas, the group had left for home. After that, mentions of the incident, never mind the aftermath information, became harder and harder to find. It seemed I had no longer been a current event.

Through social media, I discovered that Amber was in real trouble and had taken things the worst. I understood that she'd take heat from her parents. After all, the mess had happened at their cabin. They had probably been furious with her. But through one of Jackie's posts, I learned something else.

"What an incredibly sad and horrible week. Losing Peter and coming to terms with that has left me sadder and more hopeless than I could ever have envisioned. Now, with my dear friend Amber's nervous breakdown, I don't know how much more I can take. If anyone wants to come to my aid, I will be by my friend's side until she's better." Jackie had posted that only four days after the group had returned to the Bay area.

Amber had a free spirit - adventurous, and also ridiculously honest. If she felt she'd contributed to my demise, I could see her retreating within herself. She had been awfully drunk that night, and I wondered if she'd become inebriated on purpose - and if she'd been coerced.

Everyone had seemed to go back to work the following week, according to their posts, and someone would occasionally memorialize me. I wondered if it was done out of guilt. I saw that Jackie's posts came to a screeching halt in the third week after my accident, and before I'd even fully regained consciousness at Ann's cabin.

Knowing that Dalton character was snooping around made me think that the PI firm had probably told the group to reduce communication, while they investigated. I was worried for Ann, and for me too. I selfishly wanted my relationship with her to continue blossoming.

But Dalton was back at week's end, snooping and asking Ann a lot of questions, especially about her recent purchases. The conversation became more heated as I listened from the closet. Ann told me after he left that if she didn't allow him access to look around, he'd be back with the authorities. As it was, she thought he was going to push his way past her. We talked at length that night about our options.

"I'm going to tell you some things," she said, becoming suddenly serious. "Please listen first, and then I'll answer your questions. And please don't start freaking out, okay?"

I promised I wouldn't, and Ann began to tell me a tale of her youth.

"When I was a kid," she continued, "I lived with my prepper parents, as I told you. What I didn't say, was that for a few years, we lived on a state militia compound."

She decided to pause there, searching my face for the judgment she'd asked me to refrain from - the judgment that wasn't there, because it meant nothing to me.

"I know people there," she started again. "We can go there for a while until all this... dies down. But the real question is, are you ready to see this through? Are you ready to give up your whole life?

"Your whole life," she muttered as she chuckled. "The world thinks your life ended in the bottom of that ravine. But you and I know it didn't, Peter. You have a great job, there's a great chance you're going places. You have a home, and a wife - and if those interviews and statements are any indication, a wife that loves you deeply, despite her misgivings."

Yeah, maybe," I grumbled, "but I don't think I can live like that. You weren't there. She plotted with those people - people I called 'friend' - and after I said no to her ultimatum, she showed me her back. I'm having a hard time reconciling that with love - at least with the way I understand love. I've thought about it a lot since waking up. Some days it's most of what I think about. I don't see any way back from what happened - from what she did. In a certain sense, I think it would be easier for me if she had had a drunken one-night stand and claimed it was a mistake. What she did was cold, and calculated, and very in-my-face. I don't think I can forgive that."

"Alright," Ann said, after a long pause, "so what about the rest of it? A good life, the job and the money - your potential. You could have all of that, with or without Jackie. Hell, you could probably have most any woman you wanted. Right off the bat, you've got your looks, but then there's an internal beauty -one I'm already intoxicated by, to be honest. I just don't want you to have any regrets, Peter. I don't want saving your life to be a waste."

"Ann," I replied as soothingly as possible, and motioned for her to sit by me. "I honestly don't think there's anything back there for me. I appreciate the pep talk, but think of it this way: I didn't physically die that night. You saved me, but inside, I did die. I thought Jackie would be my whole life. I put everything into it, and I never considered anything else. Maybe that's my blinders, or it could be my youth - my immaturity.

"When I think of what's been lost, I'm sad. I'm sad for the me that's still left. But then we became close. My inside is healing just like my outside, and both are because of you. I'm not sure I'll ever be the man I was before that night - in fact, it's probably better if I'm not. It's better if I'm a different kind of man: one that you can love and respect, and - who knows? - maybe grow old with, if that's in the cards."

Ann hugged me tightly and it hurt like hell. I suddenly learned that ribs take a long to heal. She looked up at me, and I knew everything was going to be alright.

"Okay, Peter," she said, switching gears. "We'll need to remove any evidence of your ever being here. We'll have to burn a few things. The problem with that is they're probably watching the cabin closely. We'll need to do it in a way as to not arouse suspicions. You're going to have to lay low in your room for the next few days. I have a feeling that there may be cameras on us. When we leave, you'll have to spend the night before in the back of the Bronco, so they see only me leaving the next morning.

"We'll have to go through the Tioga Pass," she said. "It's opening this week. We can head north, through Lake Tahoe and Reno. We can take US-95 from there. It's desolate, and less traveled."

"The pass usually doesn't open until June." I pointed out. "It's treacherous. You want me to ride in the back of your Bronco, with no seat belt, for what - three-and-a-half hours?"

"Um-hum," Ann laughed. "Look what you already survived. You're invincible, Peter, that's what you are. Plus, you'll have a couple empty soda bottles to piss in. I won't even be able to see it back there."

She was teasing as usual. I looked forward to the smile that followed: that little curve, followed by the dimple that formed at the corner of her mouth on the left side. I would have gone anywhere with her at that point. My mind was made up.

So that's what we did over the next two days. All the blinds and shades remained closed. I cleaned my room thoroughly, putting things outside my door in the hallway so that Ann could strategically place things in the fireplace. When I thought I had the bedroom and bathroom immaculate, Ann came in and found other things to dispose of. We ate the remainder of the perishable food and a few canned items. There wasn't any more bacon smell to wake up to, but Ann made sure we had coffee.

I was excited to begin the journey. It did feel odd, not having more feelings for Jackie, and I questioned myself about it. Those last two nights, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, really trying to feel the love I'd had for her right up to the moment I'd seen her wrapped up in Todd's arms. She hadn't been wrapped in his arms, though. His arms hadn't even been touching her, like mine would have been. She'd been cuddled up into his chest. She wanted him. He hadn't seemed to care about her - just the fact that he could have his best friend's woman. For all her professions of love, it was her that threw everything away that night, like yesterday's garbage, just for a cheap fuck.