“ALMOST THERE”

In the nursery parking lot, damp earth mingles with the delicate sweetness of alyssums, a heady perfume that always makes Marianna feel a little reckless.

Today, the recklessness is tinged with a familiar ache in her lower back, a dull throb that’s been an unwelcome companion for weeks. She’s here for mulch, three hefty bags that promise to beautify her stubborn rose bushes, but the thought of wrestling them into the boot of her car feels like a monumental challenge.

She’s struggling to heave the first bag, grunting softly, when a voice, warm and a little gravelly, cuts through the afternoon quiet. ‘Need a hand with that?’

Marianna straightens up slowly, wincing. Standing beside her is Adrian. She knows him, of course. Everyone in this small town knows everyone. He’s several years younger than her sixty-one years.

His hair is silver, his eyes a startlingly clear blue against his tanned skin. He always has a faint, pleasant scent of woodsmoke and something uniquely him, something she’s never quite been able to place.

‘Adrian,’ she says, a smile playing on her lips. ‘These things weigh a ton.’ She gives the bag a tentative nudge with her foot, exaggerating the effort. ‘And this old back isn’t what it used to be.’

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound. He steps forward, his movements fluid and strong. He doesn't wait for an invitation, just scoops up a bag, the rough plastic crinkling under his grip. ‘Where’s it going?’

‘Into the trunk, please,’ Marianna directs, her voice a little huskier than usual. She watches him, admiring the way his muscles shift beneath his comfortable knit shirt.

Adrian’s put on a little weight, perhaps, but it’s settled well. A comfortable padding that speaks of a life well-lived. His hands are strong. His back is broad, tense, 

‘I want to give my roses a bit of a spa treatment,’ she says.

Adrian nods, his blue eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment. There’s a spark there, a flicker of something that makes Marianna’s breath hitch. It’s been so long since she’s felt that hum beneath her skin.

‘I’m sure they deserve it,’ he says.

He’s back for the second before she’s even settled. This time, as he reaches down, their hands brush.

His skin is warm, warm. Marianna’s fingers tingle. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets her fingertips linger, a silent, deliberate gesture. Long, smooth, elegant fingers. Thin underground veins.

‘You’re very kind, Adrian,’ she says, her gaze on his hands, then slowly rising to his face. She notices a faint smile line deepen at the corner of his eye.

‘Just helping out,’ he says, but his voice has a softer edge now. He’s holding the second bag, and as he turns, he brushes past her again, closer this time. She can feel the warmth radiating from him.

‘Besides,’ he says, his eyes twinkling, ‘I’ve always been a sucker for a woman who knows what she wants.’

Marianna’s heart gives a little leap. Is he flirting back? Or is she imagining it all? At sixty-one, one could easily misread the signs. But there’s something in his gaze, a certain intensity, that feels undeniably real. Yes, she’s always been a woman who knows what she wants, and right now, she wants to see where this goes.

The third bag is the heaviest, and Marianna consciously makes a show of reaching for it, then retreating with a sigh.

Adrian smiles, a genuine, unhurried smile. ‘Let me get that,’ he says. He lifts it effortlessly, stacking it beside the others. ‘Are you driving far?’

Marianna shakes her head, a playful glint in her eyes. ‘Just across town. My place isn’t too far.’

She pauses, then says, her voice carefully pitched, ‘Though, with this back, I’m sure I might need help getting them out of the trunk when I get home.’ It’s a direct move, a bold invitation. She holds her breath, waiting.

Adrian doesn’t hesitate. ‘Of course. I’ll follow you,’ he says.

The drive to her house is a pleasant ten minutes. Marianna keeps glancing in her rearview mirror, watching the steady progress of Adrian’s sensible sedan behind her.

A spark of excitement flickers in her chest, light and restless, as she pulls onto the gravel driveway, the sharp grit crunching beneath her tires.

Adrian pulls up behind her, and before she can even open her car door, he’s out, walking around to the trunk. He opens it with a quiet click and surveys the three bags.

‘Right then,’ he says, his voice calm and steady. He lifts the first bag. ‘Shall we get these in the garden?’

Marianna leads him to the back patio, where the rose bushes grow. She watches as he unloads the bags.

The simplicity of his kindness, delivered with such calm strength, makes her feel seen. She leans softly against the doorframe, her fingertips trailing absentmindedly along the smooth, cool wood.

‘Thank you, Adrian,’ she says. ‘Truly. I’ll spread this tomorrow.’

He puts the last bag down, wiping his hands on his trousers with a smile. ‘My pleasure, Marianna.’

He turns and looks around the garden, his gaze lingering. ‘You have a lovely garden.’

‘It’s my sanctuary,’ she says, a genuine warmth spreading through her. ‘My secret garden. Especially these roses. They’re a lot of work, but they’re my treasures.’

Her fingers press soothing circles on her lower back, contemplating a way to show her gratitude.

‘Thank you so much for moving the mulch,’ she says. ‘I feel like I should pay you or something?’

‘It’s fine, Marianna,’ he says. ‘I’m happy to do it.’

‘What about a coffee inside? I think I might still have some walnut cake.’

The invitation hangs in the air, a delicate thread of possibility. Marianna has learned that life is too short to shy away from seeking what you want.

He glances at his watch, taps it, tightens his smile. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go. Meeting Henry in town.’

Has she been too forward? Has she pushed him away?

‘I’ll take a rain check, though,’ he says, his smile widening. ‘I love walnut cake. Meanwhile, do you mind if I wash my hands?’

‘It’s the least I can offer.’

She opens a side door off the back veranda back door and leads him into her bright, airy laundry. The scent of clean linen drifts through the air.

‘Are you sure I can’t pay you for your help?’ she says. ‘Or repay you in some way?’

Adrian shakes his head, dismissing her concerns. He steps to the tub, rolls up his sleeves, turns on the tap, and begins to wash his hands.

As the water runs, Marianna finds herself stepping up behind him. She places her hands on his shoulders, her touch light at first, then firmer. His muscles are taut beneath her fingers.

Her voice drops to a soft, intimate murmur as she says, ‘You have strong shoulders, Adrian.’ Her hands begin gliding smoothly over the muscle, easing away the tension he carries.

She feels him relax beneath her touch, his breath growing slower and deeper. Her hands trace downward, following the graceful curve of his spine, pressing firmly yet deliberately, exploring the resilient muscle beneath.

She presses her ample breasts against his back, the thin fabric of her blouse the only barrier between them, barely muffling the warmth she offers. The sensation sends a shiver through her. She can feel his body tense, then subtly shift in response.

She leans in further, her lips brushing his ear. ‘You’ve been carrying a lot, haven’t you?’ she says, her voice thick with suggestion. Her hands continue their slow, deliberate journey downwards, towards the waistband of his trousers.

Adrian makes a soft sound, a low rumble in his chest. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t stop her. He just stands there, his hands still under the running water, his body a testament to his reaction. The rippling water, the gentle friction of her hands, the warmth of her body against his.

Marianna’s fingers find the zipper. She hesitates for just a fraction of a second, a moment of fierce vulnerability, then slowly, deliberately, pulls it down.

The metallic rasp fractures the silence, a sound of surrender. She can feel his breath quicken, can sense the heat rising from his skin.

Her fingers, emboldened now, slide inside his trousers, finding the firm heat of him. He gasps sharply, a sudden catch of breath that sends a thrill through Marianna. She feels the heat and pulse beneath her palm, insistent. Her hand slides up and down with growing confidence, each stroke becoming more assured and intimate.

Adrian leans back into her breasts, into her body, into her. His eyes closed, his jaw tight, and a low moan escapes his lips.

Marianna watches him, a fierce possessiveness rising within her. This connection, this raw desire, pulses through her. She senses his body responding beneath her hands, pressing gently into her touch as if seeking more. Her fingers explore and tease, drawing him closer.

‘Almost there, Adrian,’ she says, her own breath coming in short, excited puffs. She can feel him trembling, the pressure building.

Her touch become more intense until, with a sudden, shuddering gasp, he cums in her hand. A wave of warmth washes over him as Marianna holds him for a moment longer, her own body humming with a potent satisfaction.

She slowly withdraws her hand, her fingers slick against his skin. The sound of the running water continues, a gentle counterpoint to the storm that’s just passed between them.

Adrian remains with his head still tilted back, his eyes still closed, his breathing deep and uneven.

Marianna lightly kisses the flush on his neck, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across her face.

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