Summer, Autumn, Adelaide Ch. 02

It had been a few days since Adelaide had left me on the porch, but I could not stop thinking about that night. I refrained from trying to catch sight of her during her morning jogs since I did not want to get in the middle of anything. Heck, I would text her if I had her number. It was the safest option.

Then, as if willing to happen, I got a message in my DMs from the one and only Mrs. Walker. She began, “I’ve been missing you on my morning runs, sweetheart. Do I no longer pique your interest?”

I opened the message signaling to her I had read it, and started to type something but lost my train of thought.

She followed up, “Are you an ass man or a tits guy?”

She got rid of my indecision by giving me something to focus on. “Ass,” I hit send.

Three photos popped up on my phone within seconds. The first was a shot of Adelaide standing in front of a mirror in an Auburn Tigers cheerleading uniform. The following was shot in front of the same mirror with her tight butt facing it and her looking back. The last one was in the same position, with her ass facing the mirror, only now with her clothes hiked up to show her bare bottom.

To say she looked fantastic would be an understatement. This was a woman who I could picture being on the cover of Maxim or Playboy, baring a generous amount of skin. To top it all off, she was wearing a cheerleading uniform. It was like she was trying to cater to every base male desire there was with a few photos. I did not even realize she was on the cheer team at Auburn, but miraculously, this woman still had her outfit. I assumed it was only used for occasions like this when she wanted to ensure someone’s eyes were on her and nobody else.

“Wow,” I texted. “I am shocked you still fit into your uniform from college. But it looks breathtaking on you.”

“Ain’t it amazing what a little hard work and perseverance can accomplish? I’m proud to say I’m still the same size I was when I was a young’un.” She replied.

“What hard work can do, indeed,” I responded.

“Well, now that I have tickled your fancy, I believe you owe me some tongue pleasures in return for the other night,” Adelaide escalated the conversation.

“That and so much more. When do you want to meet?” I asked.

“How about tonight, darling? I’ll shoot you the time and place later.” Adelaide sent a heart emoji with that, assuming she had a yes.

Lucky for her, that implied yes was assured.

—————-

I finally got the call as the sun set and street lights turned on. Adelaide told me to come out front. Once outside, I saw A Black BMW X5 blocking the driveway. As I approached it, the window on the passenger side rolled down, and I saw Adelaide in a white cowboy hat, leopard print sunglasses, and tousled waves flowing down just past her shoulders.

“Get in, sweetheart!”

As I opened the car door, I saw her in a paisley crop top that was the same color white as her hat, faded blue daisy ducks, and Burgundy cowboy boots.

I pointed at her boots, “is it safe to drive wearing those?”

“This ain’t my first rodeo. Now sit down, or we will be late to Dolly.” Adelaide commanded me.

Rolling my eyes, I sat down and shut the door. She looked me up from head to toe. My sneakers, jeans, and plain t-shirt look were not cutting it.

“You could use a little somethin’,” Adelaide reached into the back seat and tossed a leather cowboy vest with a matching Burgundy cowboy hat in my lap. “Put these on.”

“Why? Where are we going, and what are we doing?”

“I already told ya, we are seein’ Dolly.” She put the car into gear.

Only then did I recall a Dolly Parton concert downtown that night, “As in Dolly Parton?”

“The one and only,” Adelaide started driving. “You best put their clothes on ‘fore you start ya start stickin’ out like a crawfish in a bucket.”

I begrudgingly put the vest on, “why am I going to see Dolly with you? I do not even like her.”

The look of horror on Adelaide’s face told me I said the wrong thing, “Did I just hear ya talkin’ smack ’bout Dolly? Dolly Parton is a beloved national treasure, darlin’, and we show her the utmost respect in this vehicle. And to think I let you cum in my mouth the other night.”

“I am sorry I did not know Dolly meant that much to you. Based on our previous messages, I am just surprised I am going to a concert instead of doing something else. I am sure it will be fun. This just came out of the left field for me.”

“I was s’posed to go to this shindig with my hubby, but work had to go and rear its ugly head again. So, since you’re the only friend I got in this neck of the woods, I reckon you get the consolation prize. Let me tell ya. There ain’t no way I was gonna miss seeing’ Dolly — she’s the queen of country music, after all!”

“Since I am not as familiar with Dolly’s work, do you care to enlighten me about what makes her great?”

“Well, honey, Dolly’s voice was the background music to my childhood, and she’s the epitome of everything I adore about my Southern roots and personal identity. Not to mention her generous heart and charitable work with the Imagination Library — that woman is a true gem. Shoot, there ain’t no way I could pick just one reason why I’m a die-hard Dolly fan.”

“You keep on surprising me, Adelaide.”

“Sugar, ’bout you callin’ me Adelaide — that’s what my man calls me, and it feels a bit off comin’ from someone else. How ’bout we switch to Addie from now on? Seems like a more natural fit for the kind of friendship we got goin’ on these days.”

“Fair enough, Addie. Now, do you mind explaining a bit more about what exactly our friendship is nowadays?”

“Well, honey, we might be friends with benefits, but truth be told, I want a lil more than that. I know men are often drawn to the physical side of things, but they also need someone to let their guard down with and show their softer side. After reading Liz Plank’s book, I learned that men need space to explore their feminine side and find their true selves. And after seein’ the way you’re livin’, I reckon a little guidance and wisdom from someone who’s been around the block might do ya some good.”

While that was plenty to process, the first question that came to mind was, “Who is Liz Plank?”

“She wrote a book called For the Love of Men. I started readin’ it when I was carryin’ my boy Henri ’cause I wanted to make sure he grew up to be the best man he could be. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jed with all my heart, but like most men, he has his unsightly side. I didn’t want Henri to turn out like that, so I knew I needed to expose him to other ways of bein’ a man. Then I met you and saw that ya needed the same kind of lovin’ care that I wanna give Henri when he’s older. So now we’re the best of friends, darlin’, and I’m proud to know ya.”

“I see.”

“You’re like the first pancake — the one I get to practice makin’ room for vulnerability with. I’m learnin’ to let down my guard, so you can too. It is like how that first pancake needs extra love and attention. Plus, unlike with Henri, there’s the added motivation of sex, which I enjoy.”

There was an extended silence after that. As Adelaide cruised down the busy street toward downtown, I thought about what she said. I was not sure how to take her admission. She wanted me to be more of a man or a different type of man. I was still trying to figure out what she meant. I was attempting to read the words between the lines. On the one hand, it was clear she liked me in some sense, but on the other, her family was priority number one.

While I had just met this woman, I grew increasingly accustomed to her presence. I was not sure what I wanted out of this relationship, but I knew it was time to stop being a bystander in my own life. To bare witness was one thing, but to be the hero I dreamt of was another. It was easy to confuse heroism for morality, and perhaps I blurred the line between those two for so long that it had ceased to exist. If there was one thing I knew about the lady in the driver’s seat, she was a woman of action. That was something I could stand to learn a thing or two about.

Adelaide turned on the radio and cranked up the music as we entered the tunnel. Unsurprisingly, I recognized country music playing and knew it would be a Dolly Parton song. It was not until we came out the other side of the tunnel, seconds later, that I heard the famous chorus for the song Jolene. The irony that this song was about an affair is not lost on me as we made our way toward the stadium for the concert amidst a beautiful backdrop of glistening rivers, the sight of a glorious fountain on the river waterfront, and the towering buildings that decorated the skyline. At that moment, both time and space were decorated in harmonious serendipity.

As we pulled into the parking garage so Adelaide could find us a spot, she turned the music down, “you a Dolly fan yet?”

I can not help but smile, “she is growing on me.”

Adelaide turned to me as the car parked, “she betta be.”

Adelaide grabbed a leather tote bag from the back seat, bending over and putting her ass almost right in my face as she did so. Once she retrieved her purse, she pulled out two paper tickets and handed one to me.

With the car locked and us firmly on our way, we began to fall in sync, lock, and step. While the vest and hat were not my style, I embraced them in an attempt to live fully.

Adelaide took my hand in hers as we approached the gate, “So, you ever been to this place before?”

“Once or twice. I am not the biggest football fan.”

“Nor am I. I ain’t no expert on this sorta thing, but this here looks like the perfect place to see Dolly,” Adelaide remarked, surveying the crowd entering the venue. “And it looks like we’ve got some fine company to enjoy the show with tonite, too.”

“You don’t like football? But you were a Cheerleader for Auburn?”

“I don’t much care for the games themselves, to be honest. But what gets me goin’ is the fandom, the folks who come together to cheer on their team. And even though I was a cheerleader back in the day, I was too busy cheerin’ on the sidelines to pay much attention to what was happenin’ on the field.”