A/N: To the guest reviewer and others who asked for the 'June' chapter…this is it. **MAJOR M SECTION STARTING HALFWAY THROUGH, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.** MAJOR.

June 2015

The great mass of people wound their way through the city streets normally clogged with traffic. He could see Poppy clearly, sitting on James's shoulders. The rest of their group, clumped into threes or fours, were mostly in front of him.

"I've been meaning to ask ye all day, where did you find that hat?" The lovely Scottish burr asked, its owner appearing at his side.

"I didn't find it," he said, tipping said hat back on his head. "If you must know, Thomas and James bought it in San Francisco last month. They apparently thought my wardrobe needed an extra touch."

She laughed. "Well, the fedora suits you. You should wear it to the office." She lowered her voice. "I like it, it makes you more handsome than ever." She reached for his hand, but at the last moment, refrained. Anna turned around, beckoning her forward.

"Go on, go join them," he said quietly. "We'll have time later. And," his voice only carried as far as her ears, "when you walk in front of me, I enjoy the view much better."

"Mr. Carson, how risqué," she said, passing him with a smile. Her already flushed face reddened further. He slowed down to put more distance between them.

"What did Mr. Carson have to say?" Anna asked as Elsie caught up with the group.

"Only that he was glad to have the hat. It's warm today," she said, fanning herself with her hand. Thank God it is warm. Otherwise my face would give everything away.

Six months.

Six months of dinners, drinks, kisses and laughter. Shared stories and holding hands across the table.

She didn't want to admit it, but she was…frustrated.

Oh, you should not complain. It took the man twenty-five years to work up the courage to ask you on a date. What did you expect?

She reminded herself that she was fifty-nine years old, and was perfectly capable of an adult relationship, without making it all about sex. She had made the mistake before of going to bed with a boyfriend too soon.

They had talked about it. That had been a very awkward, but very necessary, conversation.

Simply put, he was not ready. She remembered how nervous he was to tell her.

"I'm not as much a woman of the world as you think I am," she responded. His expression was inscrutable. She tried again. "I…I do have experience, but it's been a long time for me as well."

"But not as long as it's been for me," he said, a sad smile on his face. He sighed. "It's a wonder you want to have anything to do with me." She put a hand on his arm, and he put his hand over hers. "It's not just sex, Elsie. I've been alone most of my life. To share everything is a big leap."

It was a big gap for her to cross as well. The thing was, they were different. They already shared so much that she wondered if there was anything else that held him back.

"Poppy, are you getting warm? Maybe you should walk next to me with the umbrella," Anna said to her daughter, who clutched Jimmy tighter around the neck.

"Whoa, sweetheart, don't choke me," he said, loosening her grip.

"No, Mama! I want to stay here!" Her hat flopped over her face, her blonde hair trailing down her back.

"All right then," Anna did not look convinced. Elsie glanced at the young man, sweat pouring down his face.

"Do you want to hand her over to me for a while? I can carry her," she said, arms outstretched. He nodded gratefully.

"Here we go, Poppy, over to your Nana." She caught the little girl mid-stride and transferred her to her back. Thankfully, her surrogate granddaughter took the change well. Elsie bit back a laugh. She just doesn't want to walk. Heaven help us, we all spoil her.

"When you've had enough, I'll take her," said Thomas. Anna laughed while Jimmy downed half a water bottle in one gulp.

"A five kilometer walk, and none of you will let her take a single step! John was worried she'd never make it!"

"Your man worries too much," Thomas said, sliding one arm around her and the other around Jimmy. "He needs to learn his daughter's got a whole crew to look after her."

"That's true," Elsie agreed, turning slightly to see Charles. He had George on his shoulders and walked next to Mary. He raised his eyebrows at Poppy riding piggy-back. Elsie mouthed I'll be fine.

They finished the Komen race forty-five minutes later. By that point, Mary carried Poppy on her back and George rode on Thomas's back. Elsie met Charles in the parking garage, their cars next to each other.

"You look hot," he said, not thinking. "I mean," he said quickly, "you should probably go home and lie down. Do you still want to come over for dinner?"

"Yes," she opened her car door to let out heat. "You should rest this afternoon, take a nap. One of these years, you should walk without wearing a suit. It would be much cooler."

"But if I did that, I'd be arrested for streaking," he said, deadpan. She laughed heartily before getting in the car. On the way home, she couldn't stop thinking about him walking naked down Grand Avenue.

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He drank three glasses of water, ate a banana, and fell asleep on the leather couch. When he woke, it was 4:30. Keeping the shower water cold, he felt refreshed afterwards. He set out the marinated chicken to grill and then called Elsie.

"Hello?"

"Hmmm? H-hello, Charles," she sighed, languid on the couch.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, worried. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy her.

"No…I woke up a few minutes ago. Still sleepy," she mumbled.

"If you just want to rest this evening, and stay home, I won't mind. I can make dinner another time," he said. His heart plummeted. Oh God, please let her come over.

"No!" she protested, sounding more awake. "No, I'll be fine, I need to shower, but I'll be over after that."

"All right," he said, feeling relieved. "See you soon." He went back to preparing food, carrying utensils out to the grill on the patio, moving the small table out of the sun, opening a bottle of wine to let it breathe.

He put candles on the table, as well as inside on the kitchen counter, arguing with himself. It looks like you're trying too hard. No, she likes candles, it's not like you're scattering rose petals on the bed.

I want it to look subtle, but how can it be? We've been dancing around this for months.

No, you've been the one holding off. She was ready for this in January.

He groaned as the grill heated up. Part of him had been ready at their first date. But this wasn't just any woman. This was Elsie, and he wanted to do this right. There could only be one first time. And he did not to ruin it.

After their extended, heated kissing Memorial Day weekend had gotten to the point when they were on her couch, her leg wrapped around his and his erection straining against his trousers, it had taken all of his willpower to get up and create space. He had spent most of the next week kicking himself for not giving into spontaneity. I was not going to have sex with Elsie for the first time on her couch. She deserves better than that.

Elsie had teased him for being a closeted romantic. Truth be told, he had always been one. He just had never had the opportunity to show it. Until now.

She came around the side of the house when he was finishing the chicken. He set the foil-wrapped asparagus on the grill.

"Ooh, that smells good. Can I help you with anything?" she asked. He said nothing for a moment, taking in her appearance. She wore a fresh blue dress that landed just above her knees, and matching flats. Her hair was in its usual up-do. A long silver necklace accentuated her neck, landing just above her concealed cleavage. She looked fantastic.

"No," he rasped, his voice suddenly dry. "Thank you. Dinner's almost ready, go ahead and sit down."

He insisted on serving her food, even pouring her glass of wine. She wondered at his unusual silence.

"What's the occasion?" she asked as they finished cleaning the dishes. He had set his record player by the back door and it echoed old classics into the darkening backyard. "I mean, you always treat me well, but the music? Candles? We've only been dating for six months, I don't think that warrants an extravagant celebration." Underneath her words, her heartbeat increased. He was nervous, that was certain. For what reason, she didn't yet know.

"Does there need to be a specific reason?" he asked, taking her hand. "Five years ago, when you had your biopsy, I thought I would lose you. I knew then, even if I couldn't admit it, that I was lost without you."

"I never had cancer, you know," she said quietly, squeezing his hand.

"I know. I'm just sorry it took me this long to show you how I feel," he whispered. He pulled her by the hand into the living room. The song changed as he held her by the waist, dancing to Frank Sinatra.

I've got you under my skin

I've got you deep in the heart of me

So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me…

"This song has made me think of you for years," he murmured, kissing her slowly. "Talking myself down from even thinking you would want to be with me. But I could never give up completely."

I would sacrifice anything come what might, for the sake of having you near

In spite of a warning voice, comes in the night, it repeats, how it yells in my ear

'Don't you know, you fool, ain't no chance to win? Why not choose your mentality, get up, wake up to reality?'

And…each time I do just the thought of you makes me stop just before I begin

Because I've got you under my skin

And I like you

Under my skin

His mouth was flush on hers, one hand on her back, the other on her shoulder. His tongue slipped over hers and she moaned at the sensation. Static erupted from the record player. He stepped back, let go of her, and shut it off. Before she had time to register outrage, he was back in her arms. He kissed her again, his fingers barely skimming her hair. She sighed against his lips. Her head was spinning, and her knees wobbled.

"I want to tell you now, before we go further," he said, pulling her chin up. His eyes were soft. "I love you, Elsie Hughes. I. Love. You. I'm so proud that you want to be with me. I hope I will never disappoint you."

Her chest heaved, and she closed her eyes. He loves me, He loves me, he loves me, he said he loves me…this is no dream, this is reality. "Charles Carson, you should not worry about disappointing me," she breathed. Her eyes sparkled. "I love you, my man."

He lowered his head to kiss her again, but his nose bonked unceremoniously against her face. They flinched, still holding on to each other. There was a pause, and then they both laughed. He hugged her, drawing her into his warmth.

"I always knew that wretched conk of mine would get in the way," he joked. She giggled into his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, moving his lips down across her forehead before landing at the tip of her nose. Her lips found his and her hands caressed the sides of his face. His hands slid down her back. Gasping, she startled when he squeezed her bottom. They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Then without a word, he blew out the candle on the kitchen counter and led her by the hand to his bedroom.

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She kicked off her shoes under his desk while he turned down the bed. She was trembling, but it wasn't from nerves. Her entire body felt alight. She reached up to undo the clasp in her hair.

"Stop." He held out a hand, coming around the bed. Confused, she frowned at him. He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face the mirror above the desk. "Let me do it."

His fingers stroked her shoulder, her neck and behind her ear. She leaned back into him as he undid the clasp, letting her hair fall. He kissed her hair, twining the strands through his fingers. He then removed her necklace, carefully placing it on the desk. She was mesmerized, watching him in the mirror. His reflection gave her a grin before he pressed his soft lips against her neck. Heat pooled between her legs and she moaned aloud. He ran his hands along her belly, up to cover her breasts. Her own reflection in the mirror arched against him, her hands pulling his head down lower. He nipped at her collarbone, feeling his erection poke at her behind.

He turned her around and they lavished each other with kisses. She gasped as his hands cupped her bottom and she could feel him through her dress, through his trousers. All her control fled.

"I want you, a ghraidh, my man," she hummed into his mouth. She unbuckled his belt and removed it from the loops on his trousers, dropping it on the floor. Reaching up, she clasped the back of his neck as he sucked her swollen lips. "Make love to me."

He moaned, a loud sound in the quiet room. He lifted her in his arms and set her gently on the bed. She clasped her knees around his waist, untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it. She sucked in her breath when he removed his shirt. He wore a sleeveless undershirt underneath, leaving his bare shoulders and neck exposed. His arms, if anything, looked bigger. He slipped off the other shirt and pulled her closer, so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. She ran her fingers through the soft white hairs on his chest, over his scar. She held her hand over the discolored skin, feeling the beat of his heart. Warm. Alive.

He slipped her off of the bed and unzipped her dress. It fell at her feet and she stepped out of it while he picked it up, laid it over the chair. She climbed back onto the bed, watching as he unzipped his own trousers and took them off. His shorts were tented, barely hiding him. Lying next to her on his side, he caressed her collarbone while his lips traced down her neck. His tongue left wet traces on her skin. As he kissed lower, she touched his hair.

"Yes, don't stop, a ghraidh," she gasped as he licked the top of her breasts. Somehow he got her bra off and he tasted her bare skin, licking and sucking the nipple until it hardened. She threw her head back against the pillow and cried out. He thumbed her other breast, swirling around her right nipple. He gently pressed against her scar, feeling a lump in his own throat. He carefully left kisses on her right breast until she was pulling his hair with the intensity of her pleasure.

He wanted to draw her pleasure out as long as possible. He would not put himself first, or else the evening would end with him satisfied and her disappointed. He would not have that.

He kissed down her belly, moving between her legs, nudging his knee through them. She parted them wider, desperate for him. He slipped his fingers beneath her panties, pulling them off. She was fully exposed to him.

He nearly came undone at her scent. Still, he kissed her legs, planting a small nip by her right knee, an open-mouthed swirl of the tongue on the inside of her left thigh. She rocked her hips forward, and he placed a huge palm on her belly. She raised her head.

"Please," she begged, pulling his other hand down to her sex. He watched her face in fascination as his fingers touched, pressed, searched. She moved against him, increasing the friction. He had never done this, never watched a woman come undone. He increased the pace, sliding multiple fingers through her folds, until he found what he was looking for.

Her stomach clenched and her mouth was dry as her frenzied breaths continued. Yes, yes, don't stop, don't stop, touch, yes, yes, go, yes, yes, yes, yes, go, YES YES YES-

She keened, exploded against his hand. Her shrieks rose higher as the aftershocks vibrated through her body until she could slow down, panting hard. Every extremity was shaking. She lay quiet for a minute or two, the only sound her breathing. He wore a wide smirk, proud of his accomplishment. The wonder to her, when she could think again, was that she wanted more.

That had never happened to her before.

She pulled him down for a searing kiss on the mouth. "I want you," she gasped, her shaking fingers caressing his lips. He tore his shorts off in one motion, settling himself between her legs, his tip right at her sensitive folds. He slid into her, letting her get used to him. She stretched her legs and felt him inside. Then he slid out and back again, slowly, trying mightily not to let go yet. She wrapped her legs around his, holding him in place. "Make love to me, Charles," she repeated as they kissed.

He thrust into her again, feeling her tighten around him. He saw her eyes widen in a gasp, her mouth open and good God, she was on the edge again-

"Elsie!" he roared, as she keened again. He let go and thrust into her, poured himself into her. Yes, my life, yes, woman, yes, how have I lived alone, lived without you, without my soul, yes, YES, YES-

They moved together, frantic, their uncontrolled voices merging.

As their movement finally slowed, he felt wetness on his face. At first he thought it was sweat. She kissed him, then touched his forehead with her own.

"Love," she whispered, "are you all right?"

He tried to speak but couldn't. He gently separated them and rolled onto his side, facing her. He took a great gulp of air and realized he was crying. He sobbed into the pillow as she touched his face, his chest. Gradually, his tears subsided.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, their hands laced together.

"Why, Charlie?" She had never called him that before. Somehow it felt right, less formal.

"For crying," his voice wobbled. She pulled him into her arms.

"You never need to apologize for that. Never to me," she whispered, stroking his hair.

He kissed her hand, his breath slowing as he calmed. He looked up at her. She was gazing dreamily into his face.

"I wanted our first time to be great. For you to enjoy it," he said. "God knows you've waited long enough for me." She tilted her head, her hair falling across her shoulders.

"It was well worth the wait," she said, flashing a brilliant smile, "hopefully for you as well as me."

He hummed under his breath. "I will remember this day for the rest of my life. I don't say that lightly." She laughed.

"No, I know you don't," she sighed. "I am glad you didn't wait a quarter-century to make love to me." He slid an arm around her, feeling her naked skin beneath his hands.

"I wasn't about to wait that long." He kissed her cheek. "I love you."

She drifted to sleep in his arms. He relished watching her, knowing that he would never let her go.