Tempest couldn’t stand it one more second. She reached over the gearshift and caressed Geren’s dick through his pants. “Why don’t we just head to your place?”
“What about your car, sweetheart?” Geren asked, even though he couldn’t have cared less about the car. His dick was already rock-hard. He’d been fantasizing about being with her all day.
Tempest brushed her lips across his right cheek, slid her tongue in and out of his ear, and whispered, “I’ll get it in the morning.”
Geren got frustrated with the traffic on M Street and decided to cut over to P Street. It was an entirely different story now; he was trying to get some sex. He wanted to get Tempest back to his place, but quick.
The situation on P Street was a little better. Tempest was still rubbing Geren’s dick and undressing him with her eyes. He inched up her skirt and had the elastic of her panties halfway pushed over so he could finger her when Tempest almost made him wreck the car.
“Wait! Stop the car!” Tempest exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” Geren asked after losing control of the steering wheel for a second and regaining control.
Tempest let go of Geren’s dick and started beating on his arm. “Stop! Stop right here!” she squealed. “It’s for sale! I don’t freakin’ believe it!”
Geren put on his right ticker and began parallel parking. Tempest jumped out of the car while his front end was still out in the street.
Geren finished parking and joined Tempest on the curb. It was barely drizzling by that time, but Geren winced when a
messenger on a mountain bike swished past them, almost splashing a puddle of water on them in the process.
The near miss didn’t seem to bother Tempest. She was too busy staring at a huge brownstone with a For Sale sign attached to a stake on the front lawn, along with a Lucite box containing pamphlets of information.
“You know the people who live here?”
“No, not really,” Tempest replied solemnly. “Not the ones who live here now, but my grandparents used to own this house.”
“Really?” Geren took a longer, more detailed look at the house. All of the windows had antique beveled glass, and there was a huge front porch. He also noticed a second entrance on the side and assumed it was a basement apartment—most of the older houses in the district had them. Geren had always admired their architecture.
“They passed away about twelve years ago,” Tempest responded without turning around to look at him. She didn’t want him to bear witness to the tears she was attempting to fight back. “My grandfather died of lung cancer. He was a heavy smoker.” Geren walked up close behind her on the sidewalk and rubbed her shoulders. “My grandma passed less than six months after he did.”
“Cancer, too?” Geren asked.
“No. For all intents and purposes, she was in perfect health. I’ve always believed she died of a broken heart.” Tempest wiped her nose with the sleeve of her gray blazer. “Loving someone for more than half a century and having him suddenly ripped from her arms must’ve been devastating for her.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Geren whispered, kissing Tempest on the top of her head.
“Thanks, but death is a part of life.” Tempest turned so she could gaze into Geren’s eyes, wondering if he would be willing to love her for half a century. “My mother wanted to keep the house in the family, but my two uncles wouldn’t hear of it. All they saw were dollar signs. Property in Georgetown is extremely valuable these days. My grandparents bought the house when it was still fairly reasonable.”
Geren ran his fingers through Tempest’s hair and kissed her on the forehead.
“Anyway, they insisted on selling it to a young corporate lawyer and his family. My mother literally begged them not to. I’ve never forgiven my uncles for that. They’re so damn selfish.”
Geren’s curiosity about the house grew stronger by the second. “I wonder why they’re selling it?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Tempest turned her attention back to the house. So many wonderful memories—her grandma baking homemade brownies in the kitchen, her grandfather reading the Old Testament to her by the fireplace in the den. “Maybe they’re leaving the D.C. area.”
Geren desperately wanted to see the inside of the house. Something about it just drew him to it. Maybe it was the love for it he heard in Tempest’s voice.
He pointed at the house. “There’s a light on in the rear of the house. Want to go knock?”
“That’s pointless!” Tempest seemed agitated at the mere suggestion. “I could never afford a house like this. Not on my salary. Not in my wildest dreams.”
Geren knew Tempest was right on point with her assessment. Several of his clients lived in Georgetown, and being their investment broker, he was well aware of the market value of their homes.
A lightbulb went off in his head. “Would you buy it if you could?”
“Without question. Some of the fondest memories of my childhood involve this house.”