Charley by Shelby C. Jacobs

predator? I really didn’t know him. This wasn’t at all what I expected.
    As his tongue challenged mine I closed my lips and pushed him back. My refusal to accept his aggressive tongue was apparently the trigger that shocked his mind back to reality. Slowly, his tight, aggressive body began to relax. I could feel those broad shoulders sag. His hand dropped from the back of my head to my waist, joining the one already there. They both relaxed their tight grip. I felt his chest expand as he inhaled deeply. His face and his lips backed away from my face, but stayed close.
    His retreat was, of course, what I signaled to him, but I still wanted him. With both hands, I slowly, almost reluctantly reached for his head, and I began to gently caress the back of his neck. As he calmed down, I stood on my tiptoes and gently kissed his closed lips. I kissed the edge of his mouth and his cheek and came back to his still-closed lips. Gently, I opened my mouth and barely touched his lips with my tongue. He didn’t pull back from my lips, but he didn’t open to receive me either. I continued to stroke his head and to tease his lips. Slowly, the aggressive tenseness subsided, and he opened his lips to receive my kisses. I was thrilled! His kiss this time was gentle and caring. We held the kiss for a few moments. But as quickly as he opened to me, he closed again, and this time our bodies backed apart.   
    He hung his head to his chest and said quietly. “Charley, I’m sorry, I lost control there. Did I hurt you? I am so very sorry.”
    I put my fingertip under his chin and raised it so I could meet his eyes. “You didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” I said and smiled.
    I lay my head on his chest, put my arms around his back and pulled him to me, as tightly as possible. His heart was beating against his chest, strong enough for me to feel it against my cheek. I knew something was going on within him, and I suspected I knew what it was. I just wasn’t sure if I had a right to ask. Or more to the point … dared to.
    In those few moments, my heart went out to him; not from the kisses, but from his obvious vulnerability.  I decided to take a chance. “Can I ask you something?”
    He relaxed his grip on my waist and held me softly, slowly stroking my wet tangled hair. “Yes; anything.”
    “How long has it been?”
    It seemed like an eternity, and I was afraid I had gone too far. But he continued to hold me. I could feel a soft quiver in his body.
    Finally, in a voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain, he said. “Five years or six years maybe, I lost count.”
    “Is that what Loretta was about? Was she going to be the first in all that time?”
    Funny, I was hoping he would help me, and I’m helping him. We were just two sick puppies in need of someone to hold.
    “Charley, Loretta was available. I was far from home, no one knows me, and she didn’t act like she would reject me. So, yeah, she would have been the first.”
    “I thought so.”
    “Honestly, I haven’t been with a woman since my divorce. No, it goes back a year before my divorce. You know the old ‘fool me once…’ principle.  First, I was mad and determined not to be disappointed again. I became mad at all women. I was in no shape to even think about sex, or having a relationship. Finally, I just stopped caring and started drinking. Not enough to affect my coaching or anything else. At first, I needed something to cut the edge off my memories. But the habit took over, and I no longer needed a reason to drink. So alcohol took the place of sex and affection.”
    “Coach, you don’t have to tell me all this. It sounds pretty personal.”
    I had seen too many men, and a few women, who tried to hide their problems inside a bottle. Almost every one of them needed someone to tell their troubles to. It seemed to be part of the healing process. But I wasn’t sure that I was the one to carry this burden for him.
    “I need to tell you,” he said