The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind (4 page)

"Got it." The intensity of
his stare made her gulp. Was that the look he gave condemned
prisoners headed to prison for life? "Is it legal?"

"If you're zoned properly
and you maintain a strict no-minors policy, I believe so. You're a
judge. Why ask me?"

"Is my son gay?"

Judy gulped too big a
swallow of coffee. She didn't have the simple yes or no answer he
wanted. She could have repeated what Fletcher told her before he
left town. "Dad's always known I was different, but he spent my
entire life trying to make me conform. All that did was drive us
further apart. Oddly enough, Judy, meeting you is what convinced me
I needed a start fresh."

"Me?" she'd shrieked. "Why
me?"

"Because you're authentic.
You don't pretend to be anyone other than who you are, and I like
who you are. I'm ready to start liking myself again."

Judy didn't believe that
for a minute. She'd never been anybody's role model and didn't want
to become one.

She also hated gossip and
sure as hell didn't want to be caught in the middle of a father-son
power play. "You're asking the wrong person," she told Fletcher's
father. "Does it matter if he is?"

She gave the man credit for
answering without a hint of hesitation. "Not in the least. I want
him to know that, but how do you say the words without sounding
condescending or patronizing? We've never really been close, but we
generally could talk things out--until he picked becoming a cop
over going to law school. The dispute turned ugly. We'd go for days
without speaking. Frankly, I was surprised when he stuck around. I
thought he'd made peace with his choices. Apparently, I was wrong."
His sigh seemed weighted with disappointment. "Do you have regrets,
Judy?"

She hooted softly. "I'm
fifty-four years old. You don't live that long without wishing
you'd done a thing or two differently." She paused. "Like buying
Intel when I had the chance. 'Let my ex talk me out of it. Second
biggest mistake of my life."

"I take it he was the
first?" His half-smile was among the most handsome she'd ever
seen.
I wonder where meeting Wiley Canby
will rank on my list of regrets?
Time would
tell. Nothing good would come from the powerful magnetic pull she
felt towards him, of that she was certain.

She nodded. "I don't spend
a lot of time pissing and moaning about what I should have done.
It's too damn late, isn't it? Should I have told Buddy Fusco no,
when he asked if we could get it on? Probably. Am I sorry he's
dead? Yes. Am I glad he had one last hurrah before passing on?
Actually, I am. And, now that his son has had time to mull things
over, so's Lewis."

"The person whose hotel
room..."

She didn't want to go
there. She finished her coffee and started gathering her things.
Her cheeks warmed imagining the sight she must have made when Wiley
Canby crashed the small, impromptu orgy in Lewis Fusco's room. Who
wanted to be remembered as the woman wearing a G-string and fishnet
stockings and not much else? "Talk about regrets," she muttered
under her breath.

"Judy, about that
night--"

Luckily, her phone cut him
off when it started playing Madonna's "Like a Virgin."

"My friend, Pru," she told
him. "Probably dawned on her she left me stranded. I'd better take
this in case she's on her way back." She clicked to answer.
"Hello."

"I'm at your place and
you're not here."

Pru's plaintive whine made
Judy laugh out loud. "Of course, not. I'm still at the gym. Where
you left me. Without a car."

"Oh."

Judy gave her a few seconds
to connect all the dots.

"I panicked. That man
scares me."

"Nothing scares you. You're
perfect, remember?"

"Well...there's that. Do
you want me to come and get you? I will. But I'm running late.
Gerald will be here within the hour and I promised I'd have his
coat to take with us. Iceland's probably cold, right?"

Judy felt great fondness
for the trench coat she'd borrowed for her confrontation with Lewis
Fusco. "I just got it back from the cleaners. Check the front hall
closet."

"Your door is
locked."

"The key is on the deck,
under the gnome with the green hat."

Pru squealed in delight.
"Oh, good. I knew you were smart enough to hide a key. Under the
gnome's butt. How appropriate. Hmm...Judy...I hate to ask, but
could I have the glittery f-me platforms back, too? Gerald's gonna
love 'em."

"Gerald's a size eight and
a half? Really?"

Pru's giggle turned
serious. "In some areas of his body for sure. But not his
feet."

Judy rolled her eyes and
happened to notice the judge watching her--and clearly
eavesdropping. She looked at her settings. Damn. Maybe she was
losing her hearing. She'd held the phone to her ear but the darn
thing was set on speakerphone.

"I gotta go, Pru. Have a
great trip."

"I will. Thanks. Oh. What
about your ride home?"

"I think I've got that
covered."

She ended the call and
stuffed her phone in her purse. "Is your offer still
good?"

"Absolutely." Wiley Canby
stood, cleared their mess, stashed it in the nearby garbage can and
then opened the door for her.

They didn't have far to
walk. "A Prius?" she exclaimed. "Really? That's so much less
pretentious than I would have assumed your job
required."

His low chuckle sent a
shiver up her back before it reversed course and hit the place
she'd marked Off Limits to any man until her life was back on
track. Then, she'd think about having sex again.

As she'd told Pru the
morning after their foursome, "I don't blame sex--or even my raging
menopausal hormones that go from hot flash to
hot-mama's-gotta-get-laid, but men, in general, have complicated my
life to the point I'm seriously considering becoming a
nun."

Pru had laughed until she
wet herself. "You. A nun. I'd like to see the size hat you'd need
to get your ass off the ground. No offense, Judy, but you still
have a few pounds to lose before you can fly."

Judy had stared mouth agape
a full five seconds before deciding her friend was joking. But Judy
meant the threat--figuratively, at least. She'd taken a hard look
at her life and decided something big had to change. She wasn't
Catholic so joining a convent probably wasn't an option, but there
might be an operation she could have done to remove her sex
drive--preferably an Out-Patient, painless and quick procedure
since she'd need to do it before her health care benefits ran
out.

Her other option was to
share her whacky sex life with the world. The success of cable
shows like Duck Dynasty made her consider pitching her story to
some X-rated cable station. She'd even bounced around a few titles:
Trailer Trashed, Hot and Heavy Does It or Bang This!

Eventually, she'd axed the
idea. Who would want to watch a chubby fifty-four year old woman
screw the be'jesus out of any old Tom, Dick or Harry on the slim
hope the encounter might result in a 911 call? Nope, she had some
serious reconfiguring to do to make the last part of her life less
of a sitcom and more of something she could look back on with
pride.

And that meant fighting her
crazy desires. No jumping the bones of a hot judge just because he
made her pussy hum with interest when her breast accidentally
brushed against his arm as he held the passenger side door for
her.

"My other car's a 1964
Mustang convertible if that helps. It belonged to my wife. I had it
completely restored a few years ago, thinking Fletcher would like
it, but he said it didn't fit his image."

She could see that. She
didn't know Fletcher Canby well--in part, because he played the
role of sober, earnest, cop-of-the-people so flawlessly. A spiffy
little convertible would have made his co-workers wonder what else
they didn't know about their comrade.

"Nope. Sorry. A Lincoln
Towncar. That's what I was picturing."

"Ah. Of course. Sorry to
disappoint. Fletcher's step-mom was a tree hugger. We went green
the first chance we got. I put in solar last year."

Judy waited until he was
seated beside her to ask, "So, not that I know squat about carbon
footprints--I live in a twenty-year old mobile home, after all--but
aren't you fu...er, screwing the pooch, so to speak, by
living
alone
in a
giant house that probably has...oh, I don't know...a
pool?"

He nodded. "And built-in
hot tub. Julie got some relief from her pain by swimming in the
early years after her accident."

"Do you swim?" He didn't
stay that slim by sitting.

"Once in a great while." He
started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. "I do host a
summer party for my staff and friends. Although now that you
mention it, I can't remember any of them swimming, either." At the
first intersection, he looked at her and said, "Are you saying I
should move?"

She shrunk against the
noticeably un-luxurious seat cushion. "I wouldn't dream of giving
you advice. Since losing my job, I've had a dozen people tell me if
I can't make my mortgage payments, I should stay in my house until
foreclosure goes through. Like I'd do that." She felt dirty even
repeating the idea.

"You're a woman of
principal. You don't see that a lot in my business."

His business. Law. Judging
people. No, thank you. She'd been on the receiving end of bad
opinions all her life--starting with her mother. No way was she
getting involved with a man who judged people for a living. "Turn
left at the next intersection, then my place is the third on the
right."

Her faded old Honda took up
most of the driveway so he parked behind it. Compared to some of
the homes in her park, Judy's place was slightly above
average--thanks to the lovely new deck Jed built and Buddy paid
for. She opened the door. "Thank you for the lift. If you were
serious about apologizing to me--although why you think you owe me
an apology is a complete mystery--then buying my breakfast more
than squared things up."

She started to get out, but
his hand lightly brushed her bare arm, stopping her cold. Her heart
rate shot up and heat flooded her body--even the places that had no
business displaying the least bit of interest in Fletcher's dad.
"I..."

How could one letter hold
so much feeling, she wondered? Or was her imagination playing
games? What could a woman like her possibly offer a man like him?
And why would he ask? Did she even want to know?

Since no more words seemed
forthcoming--apparently he was as baffled as she by this odd
attraction--Judy reached into her purse and pulled out a business
card she'd been carrying around for days. Fletcher had given it to
her on that first day when he responded to her 911 call. "I wrote
your son's email on the back," she said, handing it to
him.

He flipped it over then
looked at her, his gaze troubled.

She stood, paused to make
sure she had all her stuff, then bent over and said, "Your son
suggested I might need help from his aunt--a sex addiction
therapist. I've decided not to give her a call. I'm far, far from
perfect, but I like myself just the way I am. Anyone who has a
problem with that can go jump in a lake."

She jogged up the steps to
her front door. One, because she could, and, two, because she
figured he'd seen her ass bare and she looked a heck of a lot
better in Spandex. As she passed by her gnome, she winked and
thought, "
See, Pru, I can make nice in
public. I didn't say, 'Anyone who has a problem with that can go
fuck themselves.'"

Chapter Three

Judy spotted the flashing
light on her answering machine the minute she walked through the
door but decided she needed a shower--and quite possibly a few
moments alone with her fantasy lover--courtesy of her adaptable
spray shower head--before tackling whatever surprises life had up
its sleeve. Bad enough she met the man of her dreams for breakfast
and discovered that...why, yes, thank you very much, he is as
handsome and intelligent and courteous as she'd imagined him to be.
What could possibly be worse?

Twenty minutes later, she
got her answer via her sister's unusually subdued voice-recorded
message.

"Hey, Judy, it's me, Nanc.
Call me back as soon as you get this. Just FYI. Pete and I are
moving Mom into Heritage House tomorrow. I know you're not working
there any more--your boss said she couldn't give out any details
because it violated some Hippa oath or something. I don't care why
you quit. She hinted at some sort of scandal, but none of that
matters. Actually, it's probably for the best that you're not
there. But I have no intention of telling Mom until after she's
moved in. Okay. I gotta go. Call me on my cell."

Judy's hand shook too badly
to hit the pause button, so the second call quickly followed.
"Here's my number in case you don't have it."

"In case I don't have it?"
Judy yelled at the phone, innocently resting in its cradle. "You
know perfectly well you've never given me your cell number. You
said you never carry your phone except on trips. Liar, liar, pants
on fire."