Beyond the Fence

A Punch, A Poke, and A Pool

We had a nice evening, once we had gotten the sad, shared history out of the way. Sarah returned to the lanai and the three of us discussed, what I called, our hurt, healing, and heading.

"I like that," Chrissy said, "hurt, healing, and heading. Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear it," I replied with a smile, "I made it up. I can kinda be smart sometimes. Only sometimes. We admit we have been hurt, we strive for healing, and we determine the direction we are heading."

"It does have a nice ring to it," Sarah remarked, "a bit poetic. Oh, what is the name writers give it?"

"Alliteration," I responded, "it is a fun way to spice up a writing by throwing in a bit of alliteration."

"You sound like you have experience in writing," said Chrissy, leaning forward as if she were intrigued, "Are you a writer firefighter?"

The three of us erupted in laughter at Chrissy's unintentional rhyme.

"I enjoy writing," I said between laughs, "It helps me pass the time when I am on shift at the firehouse."

"I thought you were busy all of the time," said Chrissy, "you have time to write too?"

"Yup," I replied happily, I was glad we were able to change the subject so easily, "sometimes, we go hours without getting a call, so, we find things to occupy our time."

"I would love to read some of your writings," Sarah said as she stood, "if you wouldn't mind sharing them. Now, it is getting close to Lisa's bedtime and I need to get her into the bath. Goodnight Lee."

The thought of sharing some of my writings made me pause before I replied. I didn't mind the idea of sharing some of my writings, but, the only writing I had on my mind at the time was an erotic piece I had been working on. Once I remembered I had written some vanilla pieces, I returned to the conversation.

"It would be a pleasure," I replied, "The only caveat is, you have to tell me your honest opinion. Critiques are wanted and needed."

"It's a deal," she said as she extended her hand and shook mine, "I will Siskel and Ebert the heck out of your writings."

"Mom," Chrissy exclaimed, "don't be rude. Come on Lee, I will walk you back to your house before Ms. Rude starts critiquing the way we drink our tea."

As we walked, Chrissy reached out, grabbed my arm, and stopped me in front of her garage.

"Why did you hesitate," she asked, "When mom said she would like to read your stories, why did you hesitate to say anything? Are the stories personal or something and you really don't want to share them?"

"It's a bit complex," I said, "It's just, well, when she said she would like to read my writings, my mind went to one that I am working on right now and I kinda got lost in it, I guess. One that I wouldn't share with your mom."

"Would you share it with me?" She asked softly.

"I, uh," I swallowed, "maybe. I'm not sure."

"Well, if you decide that you would like to share," she said as she took my phone from my hand and held it to my face to unlock it, "I am putting my number and email address in your contacts."

"Thank you," I said after she handed my phone back to me, "I mean, okay."

"See ya Saturday, if not before," she said as she turned to go back into her house, "be careful when you are at work, okay."

"I will," I replied, "I will try."

"Good," she said, then winked.

I don't know if what I did that night would be considered Chrissy being objectified, but, thinking about her helped me orgasm three times.