The Game: Part I

Freshly written. Enjoy.

It was almost 5:00 P.M on a Friday, the end of a long week, and I was ready to go home. I stared across the desk at my best friend Mark who had been camped out in my office for at least the last half-hour. He had that unmistakable gleam in his eye that I’d seen so many times before. The one telling me he wasn’t going to give up, no matter what I said.
“Okay, like what else are you going to do?” he asked, obviously frustrated that I wasn’t backing down.
“Sit at home and spank the monkey,” I replied.
“C’mon, you’ve spanked that monkey so many times he probably can’t sit down.”
“Yeah, but I can lift a car with my right arm, how 'bout you?”
He laughed. “Alright, level with me; how long has it been since you’ve been on a date with a woman?”
“This isn’t a date we’re talking about, Mark.”
“No, but it’s a step in the right direction. Susan has assured me that the guest list will be well stocked with single women.”
“Single women in search of rich attorney-types, I bet.”
“Sure, there's some of that. Some of the women are attorneys themselves. Actually, this is a real wine tasting club. It's pure coincidence that most of the members are attorneys.
“Friends of Susan's?” I asked.
“Yeah, or people she works with.”
“I don’t know Mark, the visual I get is a bunch of yuppies sniffing glasses and talking like Biff and Buffy about clay versus grass tennis courts. Not really my bag . . .”
“Nah, it’s way more casual then that. Humor me will ya, if you’re bored you can leave early.”
“Why is it so important to you that I attend this thing?”
He let out a long sigh. “Because I’m your best friend, you’ve only been on one lousy date since your divorce three years ago and I promised Susan that I'd make sure there were single men there — good enough reasons?”
I glanced at the clock, then back to Mark. If I didn’t give in, we’d be there when the cleaning crew arrived. “Alright, but if it’s what I think it is, I’m out of there within an hour.”
“Deal,” he said with a satisfied grin.

~~:~~:~~

I had more than second thoughts about Mark’s party idea. Wine was not my thing and I couldn’t describe the difference between a jug of Ripple and a bottle of cabernet. I’m also not the extroverted type who can show up at a gathering and thrive with a bunch of total strangers. Still, he had a point; it was getting pretty old sitting home every Friday night where the only intimacy I experienced involved a magazine and a bottle of lotion. Nothing ventured meant nothing gained and, having laid the groundwork for a quick exit, I decided to make an appearance.
Realizing that the point of going to Mark and Susan’s party was to meet somebody, I figured I should pay some attention to my wardrobe. I guessed that a wine tasting party would be casual, yet not too casual, so I chose a pair of pressed khakis with a light blue button down Polo shirt. I got everything ready and made one last check in the mirror. In truth, I was pleased with what I saw. Granted, I wouldn’t be giving Brad Pitt a run for his money, but at thirty-six, I was only a few pounds over my college weight and I still had my original hairline. Three days a week for the last year had been spent in the gym and I was proud to say that it showed. My track record in the dating department might not be something to brag about, but I'm sure that had more to do with the hours I worked and my distaste for the ‘game’ of it all than anything else.
I arrived fashionably late to a mixed crowd of about twenty people. The party started in the house with some light snacks before moving to the garden area. Mark and his wife Susan had hired a ‘wine guy’ to lead the crowd through the tasting. Actually I think his official title was ‘Vintage Connoisseur’. All I knew is I wanted to be a ‘wine guy’ too. Where else can one masquerade as a subject matter expert while drinking for free and rubbing elbows with a bunch of single women?
I grabbed my first glass and stole to a quiet part of the yard where I could check out the crowd without being noticed. Mark was right; there did seem to be a number of attractive women present. There was one cutie I thought about approaching, until some guy stepped up, handed her a glass, and stuffed his tongue in her mouth; safe bet they were a couple.
There was an even more attractive blonde across the way wearing a skirt so short that it barely covered her aerobically tuned buns of steel. Still, judging from the way she was twisting her hair and hanging on every word spoken by some rich-looking-attorney-type, I didn’t see potential there either. As expected, it was going to be an early evening where I left just like I’d arrived — alone and still very much single.
The crowd was interrupted from their mingling by the wine guy announcing that the tasting was about to begin. I listened intently and followed his every instruction, swirling my glass, sniffing it, and trying to find the ‘wine legs’ he assured us existed. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but figured I was faking it pretty well. I had to admit the wine they were passing out did taste better than the cheap stuff I stocked at home; you know, the kind that comes in a box with a plastic spout that sticks out the side.
I was into my second swallow while those around me were still sniffing and rambling on about the wine’s ‘body’ when a conservative looking woman in front of me took a big gulp, swirled it around in her mouth, and spat it towards the garden. Then, as if things couldn’t get more surreal, several people around her followed suit. I stared in disbelief as, like a bunch of camels, they were all taking mouthfuls of wine, swishing it around like mouthwash, then spitting in out.
“It's so they won't get drunk,” I heard an amused female voice say from behind me.
I turned to find a very attractive thirty-something brunette, smiling at me as she sipped her own glass.
“Excuse me?”
“They're just tasting it . . . the spitting is so they won’t get drunk.”
I looked back to the crowd, then to her, as the meaning of her words registered.
“Oh, I see,” I said, feeling myself blush.
“My name is Mary,” she said, reaching her hand out to shake mine.
“David,” I replied, still trying to recover. “Nice to meet you Mary.” Her grip was firm; I always liked a woman with a firm handshake.
“I take it from the expression on your face you’ve never been to one of these parties before?”
“You take it right,” I smiled. “Mark invited me. We work together.”
“Oh yeah? I work with Susan.”
“So you must be an attorney?”
“Paralegal.”
“That’s like an attorney, isn’t it?”
“No, not really, more like the person who does all the grunt work.”
“Ahhhhh, I see. Then you’ll appreciate this great lawyer joke I heard the other day.”
“No, I really don’t enjoy those jokes,” she said, turning and facing the crowd.
“Okay . . . then I’ll save it for another day.” Strike one I thought to myself as I stuffed my tail securely between my legs and took a big sip of wine.
We stood in silence for what seemed like minutes.
“Speaking of lawyers, there must be quite a few here tonight,” she said.
“Yeah, I would think so. Mark's mentioned that a lot of networking happens at these parties.”
“I wonder how you would know when a lawyer is well hung?” she asked, turning to me and sipping her wine.
I stared at her, not quite sure how to respond. “Excuse me . . .”
“Well hung . . . I wonder how you could tell?”
She continued to stare in my direction like was supposed to help her with an answer. “I wouldn't know,” I finally said, shrugging my shoulders.
“I suppose you could try to get a finger between the rope and his neck,” she added with a smile.
Her response was so unexpected I almost choked on my wine. I liked her immediately. She had a sense of humor and was unpredictable, both traits I admired in any human being. As we talked I found myself drawn in further by her incredible smile. It was a big, bright, white smile that radiated warmth and reassurance, paired with a wonderfully contagious giggle that made me want to laugh with her, no matter what the joke was.
No doubt about it, I was charmed by her personality, but her looks didn't exactly leave me disappointed. She was a very attractive woman, with long, natural eyelashes that only carried a hint of mascara and clear brown eyes that seemed to take in everything around us. Her skin was smooth and a light shade of almond, her features strong, but not overbearing. Where so many women these days cut their hair short, Mary had let hers grow to a point just past her shoulders, tying it back in a ponytail, while leaving two loose strands dangling in a wonderful frame of her features. I was dying to check out her figure, but contained myself, deciding that wouldn't be very gentleman-like.
We spent the next hour sampling additional wines, none of which I could name if my life depended on it. Our conversation seemed effortless, much like we had known one another far longer than a few minutes. I offered to turn my back if she wanted to spit, but she assured me that wasn’t her style either. I did notice she eventually switched to ginger ale. I considered that a wise choice and followed suit with a soft drink of my own, as I was starting to get hammered after my third glass.
She excused herself to use the bathroom, stopping to talk to a couple on her way towards the house. Being the opportunist that I am, I used the break in our conversation to steal a better look. In truth, I wouldn’t have been overly disappointed had her figure not measured up to her pretty face, but disappointed I wasn’t. She had a better than average backside, with proportionate legs and strong calf muscles. As she turned to the side, I saw the profile of her breasts — definitely more than a handful. The whole package was nicely accented by a form-fitting, red summer dress that was covered in a bright, floral pattern. As she disappeared into the house, I spotted Mark emerging from the crowd. “Hey buddy, great party,” I said as he approached.
“Admit it, you’re having fun, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I have to admit, I am. This wine is good stuff. I even had to cut myself off I was enjoying it so much.”
“Wine, smine, I saw you talking to the 'Virgin Mary'.”
“The who?” I said laughing.
“Mary Hatcher — the guys around Susan’s office call her the Virgin Mary. Of all the single women here tonight, you pick the one who has sworn off sex. You do have the luck, don’t you pal?”
“I’m not following you Mark.”
“Never mind, did you ask her out?”
“Nah, we’re just chatting.”
“So you're going to ask her out?”
“Maybe, maybe not — why do you care?”
“Just trying to take care of you pal, that’s all.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said with a smile. “What do you know about her?”
“Besides the no sex thing, not much. She works with Susan. Workaholic type — spends all her time in the office. I don’t think she’s an attorney though.”
“Paralegal. I figured that much out on my own. So she's not married?”
“Divorced.”
“How'd you hear about the ‘no sex’ thing?”
“Some female bonding session between her and Susan. Something about being so tired of guys looking for one-night stands that she's swearing it off until she meets Mr. Right.”
“Probably doesn’t help working with a stable of horny attorneys,” I added.
“No doubt. It’s a shame too; she’s got a body to die for. I saw her in a swimsuit at the Firm's boondoggle last year in Maui.” He tipped back his glass and drained the remainder of the wine, smacking his lips when he was finished.
“Yeah, she looks pretty good in that sundress.”
“Oh trust me,” Mark grinned. “See her in a swimsuit and she’ll bring you to your knees.”
“Well, I’m not much into one night stands myself.”
“Sure you’re not. I mean, it’s not like you’ve had a bunch of sex recently — you know, like you’d have to cope with a sudden dry spell.”
“Fuck off Mark.”
He laughed. “Here she comes, act natural.”
Mary stepped up to us. “Mark, I need to run. I have to go into the office tomorrow. Thanks for everything and tell Susan I said thanks also.”
“Yeah, sure thing, thanks for coming,” Mark said.
Mary looked at me. “David, it was nice meeting you, maybe I’ll see you at another tasting party. I’m part of the same wine club that Mark and Susan belong to.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “Nice meeting you too, Mary.”
I was disappointed, but not surprised. This was pretty much how my luck with women went. Mark was staring at me intensely, his eyes telling me what I already knew. If I didn’t say something, and quick, my odds for seeing Mary again were slim to none. I took a deep breath and blurted it out. “Mary, can I walk you to the door, there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“Uh, sure . . . Mark, don’t forget to tell Susan I said thanks.” She put her purse strap over her shoulder and smiled in my direction. “Ready?”
“I’m ready. Be right back,” I said to Mark, acknowledging the wink he gave me when Mary wasn’t looking.
We made our way out of the crowd to a quiet spot near the front door.
“I’m not really good at this,” I said, unable to make eye contact with her, my stomach doing somersaults. “I was just wondering if you would like to get together sometime, maybe go out for a drink or a movie?”
She smiled an embarrassed smile. “Well, I don’t date much . . .”
“Yeah, it was a bad idea . . .”
“But I’d like that,” she added quickly.
“Really?”
I was trying hard not to act surprised as she reached into her purse and scrawled her number on a piece of paper. “Call me. I should be honest with you though, David, I’m not looking for a romantic relationship. Just somebody to go out and have fun with; no strings, no complications.”
She watched me warily, as if waiting for an answer.
“Me either,” I smiled. “Why don’t we start with lunch?”
“Lunch sounds great. Next week?”
“Next week it is. I’ll call you.”
I felt a wave of excitement wash over me. I actually had a date, and with a real looker as well! The ‘no sex’ thing that Mark had described was actually a bit of a relief, as it had been longer than I cared to admit since I’d been intimate with a woman. I was pretty sure I remembered how all the parts worked, but wasn’t in any hurry to be put to the test. I turned with a bounce in my step and started back towards the party, nearly bumping into Mark’s wife Susan as she scrambled out of their home office with one of those leather timekeeping journals in her hand.
“David!”
“Susan!” I spouted, mocking her urgency.
“Stop it. Where’s Mary?”
“She just left, why?”
“Damn, she forgot this. I was asking her to get some information for me about a client earlier and she ended up leaving this on my desk. She’s going to need it.”
“So give it to her on Monday,” I said.
“I can’t, I’m flying out on Sunday.”
“Well, I’m going to have lunch with her next week, I can bring it to her.”
“When?”
“Haven't decided. I'm thinking later in the week.”
“No, it can’t wait that long, do you think she’s driven away yet?”

“Probably.” I thought for a second. “Where does she live?”
“Near the metro, I think, why?”
“Is her address in there?”
She unzipped the leather binder and looked inside. “Yeah, right here.”
I glanced at the address and recognized the street name. “I’m out and about tomorrow, give it to me and I’ll drop it off at her house.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Don't mind a bit.”
“Thanks David, you’re a real sweetie.”
“You're more than welcome, Susan,” I said with a smile.
In truth, I was happy for the opportunity to see Mary again and it would give me an opportunity to secure our lunch date. Yep, Mark’s party idea was a good idea after all.

~~:~~:~~

It was just after noon when I made the turn down Mary’s block the following day. I cruised down the well-manicured streets of her suburban neighbourhood until I found her house. It was a quaint home, but looked nice from the outside. A green compact car parked out in front told me she was probably home. Suddenly it dawned on me that showing up at her house unannounced might be a little forward, no matter how gentlemanly my intentions. Ah, what the hell I thought, I’d come this far. I parked my car on the opposite side of the street and made my way up to the front door. I had just extended my hand to ring the doorbell when I heard Mary’s voice coming from inside the house.
“Hmmm . . . harder,” I heard her moan.
Puzzled, I took two steps backwards towards the window that faced the street and listened closer.
A male’s deep voice surfaced. “Just tell me what you want, baby.”
“Yeah — like that,” Mary moaned again. “Just — oh God, like that,” she gasped.
Her words were clearly audible, even over the rapid pounding of what I assumed to be the headboard banging the wall. “Feels good . . . oh God . . . fuck me, Shawn . . . all the way . . . fuck me all the way,” she whimpered.
I shut my eyes tight as a hole the size of the Lincoln tunnel formed in my stomach. So much for Mark’s assumption that she’d sworn off sex. I stood motionless, trying to decide what to do next. My first inclination was to get back into my car, return the notebook to Susan without an explanation, and forget I had ever met Mary. But that would only lead to a bunch of questions I really didn’t want to answer.
The moaning seemed to get louder, reaching a point where I was surprised the neighbours across the street didn’t hear. “Go deep — oh Goddd, yes!” she gasped. The springs to the mattress sounded like they might give way to the pressure any second.
“You like that, don’t you?” I heard the male’s deep grunting. “You like it hard, don’t you? You feel so tight baby, so good. I could fuck you all day long.”
As ridiculous as it was, I was starting to get angry. I had known this woman less than twenty-four hours, had never been on a date with her, and somehow I felt like she was cheating on me. Why, if she were involved with somebody else, would she accept a date with me? Better to know now, I thought out loud, and started walking towards my car. As I made my way down the walk, a red Honda Accord pulled into the driveway with none other than Mary in the driver’s seat. She got out and looked at me, a cautious expression on her face. “David from last night, right?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied, doing my best to regroup. If she was driving the car, who was inside the house screaming like a banshee?
“Is that mine?” she added, motioning to the notebook in my hand.
I noticed that the sounds of lust coming from inside the front bedroom had disappeared. I glanced in the direction of the window just in time to see the curtains part and close quickly.
“Uh, yeah, you left this at Susan’s last night. I told her I was going to be out and about today and thought I’d drop it off — I realize now I should have called first.”
“You brought that all the way over here to me?” she asked with a grin. I nodded and handed her the journal. “That’s so sweet. Are you okay, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said.
“You want to come in, have something to drink?”
I glanced at the house, then to her. It was obvious Mary's roommate didn’t expect her to be arriving home so soon. “No thanks, I need to get moving.”
“Nonsense, you came all the way over to bring this to me. The least I can do is offer you a soft drink or something.”
She started towards the door before I had a chance to respond. I followed, but made sure to stay more than a few paces behind. My heart raced as she put the key in the lock and entered. No sounds, no urgent apologies. I took a few more steps in behind her — still nothing. She sat her things down on a couch in the living room and proceeded through to the kitchen. I could hear her talking to somebody, but couldn’t see to whom. The tone of her conversation was casual enough that I thought it safe to follow. Then it all made sense.
“David, this is my daughter Skylar,” Mary said as I appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Skylar, this is David, a friend I met at the wine tasting party last night.”
“Pleased to meet you Skylar,” I said, trying to suppress the grin I felt crawling all over my face.
“Hi,” she replied in a disinterested voice.
I figured Skylar was about eighteen or nineteen and a near spitting image of Mary. She had long curly brunette hair and her Mother’s best features, including high cheekbones and full, almost pouty lips. Her pretty face was accented by a beauty mark similar to the one Cindy Crawford has, only Skylar’s was closer to her jaw line. She had on what looked like a pink crocheted sweater vest that dipped low in into a ‘V’, with no shirt underneath, and something that looked like a school ring suspended on a chain around her neck.
I glanced at the older looking guy sitting with her, estimating his age at around twenty-five. They had a series of textbooks spread across the table providing a very effective illusion that they had been studying — something I knew wasn’t the case.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary said. “So rude of me. David, this is Shawn, Skylar’s math tutor.”
“It’s a pleasure,” I said, reaching across to shake his hand.
“How ya doing?” he grunted in the same deep voice I'd heard pouring from the bedroom window.
“You’re home early,” Skylar said to Mary. “I thought you were going to be at the office all day?”
I bet you did, I thought to myself.
“Oh, I decided to make it an early one,” Mary said. “Thought you and I could maybe catch a movie. What do you say?”
“Uh, sure, after I’m finished studying. Skylar stood up from the chair and made her way to the pantry. “You want something to drink Shawn?”
As she stood up I realized her mother’s face wasn’t all that she had inherited. The top she had on stretched only half way down an incredibly sexy bare mid section, complete with a pierced belly button. Like Mom, her breasts were full, proud, and seemed to be pushing the limits of the skimpy vest that held them captive. Her tight round behind was accented perfectly by a pair of cuffed denim shorts that wrapped snugly around two equally taunt brown thighs. Granted, her good looks would have turned my head any day, but having just heard her moaning in the throes of passion made her a walking testament to lust. I glanced at Shawn with envious contempt, realizing that only minutes before I showed up, Skylar’s gorgeous thighs were likely wrapped around his back.
“David, what would you like to drink?” Mary asked, snapping me out of my lecherous daydream.
“Uh, Coke is fine.”
“Skylar, get David a Coke, will you?”
“You want a lot or a little ice?” Skylar asked, seemingly irritated.
She was staring at me with the most incredible set of deep brown eyes, waiting for an answer, her bare stomach clearly visible above the snap of her denim shorts.
“Uh, I’m sorry, what?” I stammered.
“ICE,” she said in a strained tone. “Do you want a lot or a little ICE?”
“A little is fine,” I replied.
What she had in looks seemed to be lost in personality, but then again we had just interrupted her and Mr. Math Tutor as they were humping one another’s brains out. Couldn’t say I blamed her for being annoyed. She handed me the Coke and I stole one last glance at her tight little ass as she returned to her seat at the table.
“C'mon, let’s go into the living room,” Mary said.
As I followed, I noticed she was also wearing shorts, something I had missed during the confusion in the front yard. As I watched her curvaceous bottom sashaying back and forth, it dawned on me that she looked way too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter. She pulled open the first layer of curtains to allow some light to fill the room before patting the cushion in a signal I should join her.
We talked for about a half-hour covering nothing really important. She discussed her job and the long hours she worked; I talked about the promotion I was up for. Turns out she played tennis although, based on her work schedule, not very often. I told her I watched it on TV, but it wasn’t really my racket. She was polite enough to laugh, even though we both knew that was one of the worst puns ever.
Several times during the conversation Skylar paraded through the room, usually to fetch a book or something . While I'm not sure why, I felt my eyes drawn to her, especially when she stopped to talk to Mary. Being thirty-something, I’m no stranger to attractive women and I’m not easily overwhelmed with physical beauty, but there was something about this girl that seemed almost magnetic. It most likely had something to do with the fact that I'd just heard her having animal-like sex less than an hour before.
“So when would you like to do lunch next week?” I asked Mary, figuring it was time to get moving.
“Well, let me see,” she smiled, unzipping the calendar I had just delivered. “Wednesday works for me, how 'bout you?”
“That should be good. Can I call you if it doesn’t work out?”
“Sure, that’s fine — hey, what are you doing tonight?” she asked. “How bout some dinner and dancing?”
“I thought we were going to a movie!” Skylar yelled from the kitchen, so loud it made Mary flinch.
“We are Skylar, but that’s this afternoon! I’m talking about tonight!” Mary glanced at me apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Well listen, I’m not much of a dancer, but dinner sounds good.”
“No dancing?” she said in a disappointed voice. “I really love to dance.”
“It’s just I’ve got these two left feet — but I’ve got eating down pat. Almost all the food makes it to my mouth on the very first try.”
She laughed. “So pick me up at seven o’clock?”
“Seven it will be.”
I excused myself and poked my head into the kitchen before leaving, bidding my farewells to Shawn and Skylar. Shawn smiled and shook my hand a second time; Skylar grunted a good-bye without looking up from her textbook. Oh well, can’t win 'em all, I thought to myself.

~~:~~:~~

I arrived exactly five minutes before seven for our dinner date. I didn’t want to appear over-eager, but definitely attentive. Mary showed up at the door in yet another casual dress. This one was made out of a bright, pink and white flowered print that dropped to a point just above her knees. Thin spaghetti straps were draped over each shoulder and the front was lined with buttons. She had been nice enough to leave the top two unfastened, providing a remarkably sexy view of her cleavage. Skylar appeared, outfitted in the same sexy sweater vest / denim shorts combo as before. I wondered if Mr. Math Tutor had an appointment to finish what he started earlier.
“We shouldn’t be late and I’ve got my cell phone if you need us,” Mary said to Skylar.
Skylar glared at me, seeming to ignore Mary’s last words. I glared back like ‘what did I do?’ but said nothing.
“Skylar?!” Mary said in an irritated voice. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes Mother, I heard you.”
“Then answer me.”
“Be safe,” Skylar said. “I love you Mom,” her last words before delivering a gentle kiss to Mary’s cheek and disappearing into her bedroom. Somehow she forgot to say goodbye to me.
~~:~~:~~
Dinner was excellent and we both were stuffed by the time the dessert menu arrived. We discussed everything from our childhood, to our political affiliations, to our favorite movies. She even shared some very personal details, including how she got pregnant when she was sixteen and married shortly after that. The marriage lasted longer than one might expect, but came to a bitter end when she found out her husband was cheating. She had made an attempt to salvage the relationship, but he couldn’t let go of his outside interests.
It was in those final years of her marriage that she decided to continue her education, returning first to get a high school diploma, then onward to law school. With the demands of raising Skylar, law school proved to be too much, so she settled on a job as a paralegal. She admitted regretting that decision more than once, as the hours seemed just as long, yet the pay didn't compare.
As comfortable as we were around one another, I also realized that we were in many ways opposites; that was disappointing for sure. The wine tasting club where we met was a perfect example. I never would have considered joining such a function, whereas Mary talked at length about her love of trying different wines, understanding their history, and how they were made. I agreed that I enjoyed an occasional glass, but that was as far as it went.
Even with our different interests, we still shared more than a few laughs and it was quite refreshing to be in the company of such a beautiful woman. Even if this wasn’t destined for romance, I felt the beginnings of a solid friendship.
The bottle of wine we drank had left me in a mellow mood, but Mary was jostling in her seat. I suggested we catch a movie. We were downtown within waking distance of several theatres where a number of new releases were playing. I was sure we could find something we both liked, even though my favorites were action / adventure and hers were sappy chick flicks. She seemed ‘okay’ with the idea, but I could tell from the way she was moving to the music pouring out of the restaurant bar that she really didn’t want to be sitting. I reluctantly agreed to the dancing idea, but suggested we go somewhere else, as the bar at the restaurant was virtually empty.
In addition to the theatres, there was a number of clubs in the downtown area. It was a cool evening and we walked for about fifteen minutes until we passed a place where we could hear the music blaring even when the front door was closed. We entered, ordered some more wine, and hadn’t been in the booth for more than two minutes when some techno-pop tune came on and Mary was dragging me out. The floor was packed, with barely enough room to stand, much less dance.
As we moved about with the other couples, I closed my eyes and tried to ‘sense’ the music; it wasn’t working. I felt like a fish flopping around on a pier in the noonday sun. Mary, on the other hand, moved with a grace that I could only envy, the music coursing through body as if some mystical serpent had possessed her.
I watched her seductive movements with fascination. Her eyes were closed and her long brown hair was swinging from side to side. She raised her arms over her head causing her dress to climb upwards, her bosom moving in harmony with the rotation of her womanly hips. ‘Virgin Mary’ or not, I couldn’t help but wonder what she must look like without that sundress. I wondered if the way she moved on the dance floor was any indication of how she moved in bed. Watching her; almost feeling her; the resemblance to Skylar flashed through my mind, along with the sounds of passion I’d heard pouring from the bedroom window earlier in the day.
“FUCK me, Shawn . . .” I remembered hearing Skylar moan.
“You like it hard, don’t you?” I could still hear him grunting in return, followed by Skylar's lustful pleas for him to 'go deeper'.
I could visualize all too clearly Skylar's nude form spread out on the bed, her long legs wrapped around Shawn's hips as her body writhed beneath him, his cock pumping in and out of her in thrust after thrust. I closed my eyes as I felt my heart begin to race. The memory of Skylar's sensual whimpering was so clear and vivid in my mind. That, combined with Mary's seductive dancing, was making my imagination run amok.
I was jerked from my daydream as the guy behind us bumped into me, sending me stumbling into Mary. I tried to improvise, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close. Her eyes opened suddenly and a startled smile crossed her lips. She laced her fingers though my free hand and held it high, leading me though some type of dance step I had seen, but couldn’t name.
The feel of her body against mine, her breasts pressing into my chest, threw my arousal into overdrive. Unfortunately, I had picked the wrong day to wear jockey shorts and my cock felt like it had been folded in two and stuffed in the bottom of my trousers for safe keeping. The more excited I got, the more painful it became. Mary seemed oblivious to my problem, laughing and staring into my eyes, shouting to me over the pounding bass pouring from the speakers.
“What?!’ I screamed over the music.
She leaned closer, pressing her body into my growing hard-on. “I thought you couldn’t dance,” she giggled in my ear.
“I can’t,” I shouted back.
Without warning, the song came to a sudden halt. We separated and joined in with the couples around us in a round of applause. The next song started, with the deejay shifting from that techno-disco-crap to something slower, more along the lines of a mellow jazz number.
“Now I know you can slow dance,” she smiled.
“Only if you let me stand on your shoes.”
She took me by the hand and led me to an open area on the dance floor. Whether we were friends or not, hiding my excitement in a slow dancing situation was going to be tough. I started out with something like the box step, leaving a good twelve inches between us.
“Do you think the nuns are watching us?” she laughed.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s an old joke. When I was in secondary school the nuns would come around dance floor with a thick book and make sure it could slide between the boy and girl while they were slow dancing. They could fit a Webster’s unabridged dictionary between us, David.”
I laughed and moved a little closer. Mary rested her cheek against mine and, once again, I felt her body pressing into me. It wasn’t seconds before my cock started trying to break free from the knot that had formed in the pit of my shorts. I shifted nervously, trying to hide my growing arousal.
“You know, David, it’s not against the rules for friends to slow dance. Is this making you uncomfortable?”
I glanced at her, trying to decide how to answer. “Well, uncomfortable is a good word, but not what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“Well, let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to an attractive woman. I’m trying to maintain my self-control — but certain body parts aren’t listening.”
She smiled. “Well, we’re not a couple of kids, David. I understand male physiology enough to know that some reactions aren’t always voluntary.”
“Well, there's more to it than that.”
“Oh yeah, what?” she asked warily, like I was delivering some line.
“How do I say this?”
“Just say it.”
I took a deep breath. “I think the next time I involuntarily slow dance with an attractive woman, I’ll wear boxer shorts and not jockeys. You know, leave me a little more room to ‘move’ with the moment.”
She leaned back and glanced down at the folded wad protruding from my trousers and started laughing. “Oh, I get it! Not enough room at the inn?”
“Something like that,” I laughed with her.
She smiled. “I think you’re just trying to impress me. How big a suite do you need to house that guest of ours?”
“Oh, well, the presidential suite of course.” She laughed along with me. “In my dreams, actually. It’s just that what I do have is practically tied in knots right now.”
She laughed harder, leaning her forehead into my shoulder. “Like a prisoner fighting to be freed, huh?” she giggled, looking up at me.
“Yes, just like that,” I grinned. “I’m sorry, I really am doing my best here. The wine is making me silly.”
“Well, you’re being a gentleman about it David, and that means a lot.” She had a sincere sparkle in her eyes, along with an incredibly gorgeous, ear-to-ear grin.
I smiled back and pulled her a little closer until the wadded bulge in my pants brushed lightly against her dress. She responded with a gentle press against me that actually created a wince of pain.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked, noticing my expression.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Kind of bittersweet, if you know what I mean.”
“Well . . . it’s okay if you . . . you know, want to adjust yourself.”
“I think that’d be a bit too obvious. I can last.”
She pulled me closer until I could smell the fruitful fragrance of her perfume against my cheek. “You know . . . I could help you . . . if you wanted me to,” she whispered in my ear, her words blending into that now familiar giggle.
I smiled against her cheek, not really sure what she meant. “I don’t get it.”
She leaned into me again, this time her voice low and serious. “Move us to the edge of the dance floor away from the tables and turn your back to the crowd so nobody can see my hand. You can’t dance with that big frown on your face.”
I looked at her hesitantly, not entirely sure I’d heard her correctly.
“Do it . . .” she grinned slyly.
I obliged and manoeuvred us away from the crowd, leaning her into a gentle turn before raising her into a position where my back was to the closest couple. She pressed her cheek against mine and rubbed her hand gently back and forth against my lower back. Slowly it circled around my waist and across my belt buckle before starting a descent. My heart was pounding in my chest as I wondered if the couples around us knew what was happening. Mary’s hand ran down to the wad in my trousers and she traced her fingers gently across the top. “My, you are stuffed in there,” she sighed.
I twitched as she kneaded me with her fingertips, trying to break free my bound and aching hard-on.
“I can’t get it,” she moaned in my ear.
“That’s okay,” I grunted in return, even more in pain than before. “The song is almost over. I’ll go to the men’s room when the music stops.”
“You want to quit now?” she asked in a concerned voice.
“No, I'm okay.”
She leaned closer. “Hold still . . . I’ve got one last idea.”
I felt her fingers fumbling with the front of my trousers until she found my zipper.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she giggled, dragging the metal tab all the way to the bottom.
I couldn’t believe it either, but I wasn’t about to argue. My heart raced as she wedged her fingers through the flaps of my fly. I took a deep breath and held it as her nails worked their way into waistband of my underwear. I could feel the back of her fingers grazing my pubic hair as she reached inside my trousers, forcing her hand inside and downward.
“You are stuffed way in there,” she said, struggling to delve deeper.
My breathing got heavy and I felt my jaw trembling like I was naked in a snowstorm, the sensation of her fingernails scraping the inside of my thigh.
“There you are,” she whispered, finally reaching my cock.
She manipulated back and forth, breaking it loose and sliding her palm around it. The moment I was free, I started to become fully erect. I expected her to let go, but she surprised me, gently wrestling it upward, providing me the room to grow that I so badly needed. Without even realizing, my mouth started gently scraping her cheek, my arousal getting stronger and harder in her hand.
We continued to dance in silence, her hand stuffed inside my trousers and wrapped tightly around my throbbing cock, occasionally massaging it back and forth like a blind person sensing the texture. She wasn’t really jerking me off — more like hugging me with her palm as her other arm remained draped over my shoulder.
“You can let go now, I’m better,” I grunted in almost obligation.
At first she didn’t say anything. “You want me to let go?” she eventually whispered in my ear.
“Uhm . . . if you want to,” I moaned. I was so turned on I couldn’t stand it and my hands took on a mind of their own, running down the back of her dress and on to her ass. My lips met with hers in a gentle kiss as she squeezed my cock tighter, moving into a gentle stroke that was making my knees weak.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered in between kisses.
I leaned my cheek against hers and nodded in silence. She started to stroke me faster.
“You’re getting wet . . .” she giggled in my ear as her grip tightened around me. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” she added, speeding up the movement of her hand.
It had been so long since I’d been with a woman, I wasn’t sure if I could last. “Mary, I think you need to stop that . . . before . . . I lose . . . all self-control.”
My legs were literally starting to quiver and my hands were squeezing into her back for some type of support. She grinned and worked her hand faster. “Wanna cum?” she whispered, staring into my eyes as her hand discretely pumped my raging hard-on.
“Yeah . . .” I moaned. I did want to cum, and badly, but also knew there was no way I could pull it off on the dance floor without making a huge mess on her sundress. “But not here,” I whispered, using my hand to stop hers.
She smiled and even pouted a little as she slowly pulled her hand out of my pants before dragging the metal zipper upwards to its original closed position. Finished, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and we continued to dance. I dropped my own hands to her lower back and pulled her close until I could feel my granite like cock pressing into her through the thin material of her sundress. She let out a subtle moan in my ear and began to kiss me as I used my hands to gently move her hips from side to side, back and forth against my swollen member.
I was literally getting lost in the moment, unsure of how I got there, but not wanting it to end. Of course, it did, with the music drifting away, replaced by another up-beat-techno-tune. Mary moved away from me, grinned, and moved into the next song without missing a beat. I closed my eyes, and started my fish-flopping routine all over again.

~~:~~:~~

We ended up dancing about three more times. Maybe it was two; I couldn’t be absolutely sure. One thing I do know is there weren’t anymore slow dances and my pants remained zipped the entire time. It was almost as if we were both pretending that nothing had happened during that one number. While I might have been pretending, I was also wondering how the evening would end.
We made it to the car and I drove her home. She spent most of the drive with her seat tilted back and her eyes closed, occasionally mumbling something about drinking too much wine. I tried to comfort her with a stroke to her arm and even a gentle pat on the thigh, but she was unresponsive. I couldn’t tell if she was really tired, or just trying to send me an unspoken signal that whatever started on the dance floor wasn’t going to continue when we arrived home. I inched the car up to the curb and walked her to the porch.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I said sincerely.
She smiled. “Me too. Maybe we can get together again?”
A reasonable question, I thought to myself, but not sure if she was just saying it to be polite. I struggled with whether I should try to kiss her. There was irony in that struggle. A few hours before her hands were stuffed inside my pants and now I was worried if kissing her goodnight might look too forward. Much like when I asked her out, I decided nothing ventured meant nothing gained, and leaned towards her. Her lips were soft; yet very still. By ‘still’, I mean she wasn’t returning my kiss. I opened my eyes and could see hers had never closed. She was just staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, regrouping herself. “This isn’t fair to you David, I’m sending you mixed signals.”

“Okay . . .” I replied, pretending to understand.
“Can we sit for a minute?” she asked, motioning to a porch swing I hadn’t noticed before. I followed her lead and took a seat as she turned to face me. “David, I want you to understand something. I had a great time tonight.”
“So did I.”
“You’re a funny, intelligent, very nice man.”
“But . . .” I said, leaning forward and forcing a smile.
“No buts really,” she said. “Well, maybe just one. I didn’t plan what happened on the dance floor earlier tonight.”
“Neither did I, Mary,” I said, wondering if I sounded defensive.
“I know you didn’t, David, neither of us did. And while it was incredibly exciting, it isn’t something I would normally do, you know?”
I nodded for her to continue.
“I mean, I’ve pretty much sworn off sex unless there’s romance involved. After all, they don’t call me the ‘Virgin Mary’ for nothing.”
I must have had a surprised expression on my face.
“Yes, I know they call me that,” she added, “and frankly I think that’s just fine. But tonight, the wine had gone to my head and that, combined with how much fun I was having and how comfortable I was feeling around you — I just lost my wits for a minute. Am I making sense?”
“I think so. But about this romance part?”
“Well . . . I think if you were honest with me, you would agree with something I’m about to say.”
“I’ll be honest with you,” I replied.
“Well, as much fun as I had tonight . . . I didn’t feel that romantic spark between us. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t feel it.”
I nodded like I agreed, but in reality, I didn’t. I was falling for her and in a big way. Even though our interests weren’t identical, she was everything I looked for in a woman. But I also knew if I confessed that fact, I likely wouldn’t see her again. Better to just play dumb.
“I understand, and yes, I agree with you,” I fibbed. “But I did have a great time tonight.”
“So did I!” she added quickly. “And I definitely would like to see you again — spend more time together. You know, like we talked about when you asked me out the first time . . . but as friends.”
“That would be great — but NO slow dancing,” I said.
She laughed. “Okay, no slow dancing.”

~~:~~:~~

I called her the following Monday to confirm our lunch date for Wednesday. She seemed somewhat surprised that I had actually made the effort. I think in the back of her mind she thought when she dropped the ‘let’s just be friends’ speech on me that I would disappear for good. I’ll be the first to admit I was disappointed. Okay, really disappointed, especially after the ‘helping hand’ she gave me on the dance floor, but I could also see how introducing casual sex into a platonic friendship would only complicate things.
Lunch the following week was nice. We chose an outdoor café near the building where I work downtown. We chatted about nothing at all without a hint of anything romantic. She mentioned that it was her turn to do the wine tasting thing in a couple of weeks and asked if I would be interested in helping out. I agreed to make an appearance if she would agree to a movie on the weekend. She seemed excited and so was I. All in all, things were working out nicely.
I showed up the following Saturday to pick her up. Skylar answered the door, greeting me with a typically chilly reception. I had decided to play things pretty low key with her and not try too hard to develop any kind of a rapport, figuring she would warm up to me eventually or maybe not at all. Either way, I wasn’t losing any sleep over it.
As she opened the door I did notice that today’s outfit was as appealing as ever. It consisted of purple skin tight ski pants that seemed to be spray painted on her taunt athletic thighs, with a football jersey cut into a half shirt. As I followed behind her I was enjoying the view of her tight little backside when I looked up to see her watching me, watching her, in the mirror mounted on the living room wall.
“Want a picture of my ass to take home with you?” she asked in an annoyed voice, turning to face me, her hands on her hips.
Realizing I was busted, I found myself blushing to the point I thought my face might melt. “I — uh — is Mary almost ready?” I stuttered.
She glared at me for what seemed like minutes. “MOM! Your DATE is here!” she yelled out sarcastically.
Mary appeared out of her bedroom, still clipping on a loose earring. “Hi David, are you ready?”
“Never more ready,” I sighed, just wanting to get out of that room before I embarrassed myself further. I was going to have to be more careful, that was all there was to it.
Skylar looked at her mother. “Can I talk to you for a second — in the other room, I mean?”
Mary looked at her, then to me. “Uh, sure. David will you excuse us?”
“Certainly,” I smiled, my heart sinking to my feet. What was she saying? I took two steps towards the hallway in hopes that I could hear their conversation without being too obvious.
“Look Skylar, I have a personal life too,” I heard Mary whisper harshly. “You know that I've taken steps to spend less time at the office so I can spend more time with you, but I also need some male companionship in my life.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Skylar sneered back. “I just have a bad feeling about him, Mom. I don’t think he’s really interested in you, except for maybe getting in your pants.”
“Our relationship isn’t like that, Skylar. David and I are just friends. I appreciate you worrying about me, but I can take care of myself.”
“But, Mom–”
“Closed conversation, Skylar. I’m leaving or I’m going to miss my movie.”
I took that cue and shuffled back to my original position, out of earshot.
“I’m sorry about that,” Mary said as she returned to the room. “Are you ready to go?”
Skylar reappeared, leaning against the doorway with her arms folded across her ample chest and admittedly beautiful eyes jabbing at me like daggers. I felt like she was the Mother, Mary was the daughter, and I was the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. I threw her one last smile and made for a quick exit.
As we reached the car I could tell Mary was still preoccupied. “Everything okay?” I inquired innocently, really knowing the answer.
“Yeah, that girl — teenagers can be so frustrating sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
“She just had a really tough time with the divorce and doesn’t like the idea of me dating — but it’s nothing personal against you, David.”
“Yeah, I could sense that much and, no, I didn’t take it personally.”
We drove for a few minutes in silence. “So . . . shall we go slow dancing,” I joked, trying to break the tension.
She looked at me and grinned. “Bad, that’s what you are — bad.”

~~:~~:~~

The following week was hectic. More than once I had reconsidered whether the promotion I was gunning for and the minor raise that would accompany it were worth the overtime involved. I glanced at the clock and thought how I might as well write off my lunch hour, even though I was dying to get out for some fresh air. I had just sat down to my desk, moving stacks of files to create a place for my coffee cup, when the intercom beeped.
“Yes Diane?” I said, hitting the talk button.
“David, I have a Mary on line one for you, do you want to take it?”
I smiled. “Yeah, put her through.” I figured she was calling regarding the wine testing party I told her I would help out with. “Mary, this is a nice surprise,” I said, picking up the receiver.
“It’s not Mary,” the monotone female voice said on the other end of the phone.
Whoever it was sounded like Mary. “Okay, then who?”
“It’s Skylar.”
“Skylar,” I said in a surprised tone. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine. Are you busy?”
“Uh, yeah, actually I am. I was just–”
“What are you doing for lunch today?”
“Lunch? Today? Uhm, I was going to skip it, why?”
“Well, I was going to be downtown. You work downtown don’t you? I was hoping you would be free. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you about my Mom.”
“About Mary? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorta. So you can make it?”
I looked again at the clock, then at the stacks of files on my desk. “Sure, where did you want to meet?”
“You know where the bistro is, off of Jefferson Avenue?” she asked.
“The outdoor one?”
“Yeah, that’s the one, can you be there by 12:30?”
I glanced at the clock. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
I hung up the phone and spun my chair around to look out the window. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to talk to me about, but this did seem like an opportunity for us to get closer, maybe break down some of the barriers between us.
I arrived at the restaurant early and grabbed a table outside. It was a warmer than usual day for April and I was enjoying the sunshine when I spotted Skylar making her way in. To say she was dressed to kill would have been an understatement. She had on a one-piece navy blue dress that reached a point well above her knees, providing a very provocative view of her slender brown thighs. Her long curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her facial features were nicely accented by a pair of black designer sunglasses. She was carrying a small black purse that dangled from a long gold chain, swinging along with the movement of her hips as she walked.
“Well, this is a bit of a surprise,” I said as she seated herself. “You look nice. Where are you headed after this that's got you so dressed up?”
“Nowhere special. I just like to look nice when I go out, that’s all.”
“Well, you succeeded,” I smiled sincerely. The ice queen didn’t even glance up from her menu to thank me for the compliment.
We ordered. She had the chicken Caesar; I stuck with the broiled fish and a side salad. I noticed more than a head or two checking us out, which didn’t surprise me. I imagine we looked like a bit of an odd couple. I wasn’t old enough to be her Dad, but was clearly too old to be her boyfriend, at least by society’s standards.
“So what’s happening?” I asked.
“This is a nice place,” she said, looking around the outdoor café area. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”
“Yes, it is nice.” I didn’t want to be rude, but I also didn’t have time for this lunch. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about Skylar?”
“Wow, you’re not much for small talk, are you, David?”
“I’m sorry, you just sounded urgent on the phone and, frankly, I’m kind of busy these days.”
“Yes, I did sound urgent, didn’t I?” A moment of silence hung in the air. “David, do you like my Mother?” she asked seriously.
I thought for a moment. “Yes, Skylar, I do like your mother. We’re becoming close friends. Why?”
“How much do you like her?”
“As I said, we’re close friends. Why do you ask?”
“Have you fucked her yet?” she asked nonchalantly, taking a bite of a breadstick from the basket the waiter had just left.
I choked on the glass of lemon water I was drinking, taking a moment to catch my breath. “I beg your pardon?”
“Have you fucked her yet?” she repeated, as nonchalantly as the first time she had asked.
“Skylar, I really don’t think that’s an appropriate question.”
“You haven’t fucked her yet, I can see it in your eyes. Do you think you’re going to fuck her?”
I didn’t know where this conversation was going or why we were having it, but I was very uncomfortable with it all. “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at . . .”
“I’m trying to figure out what your motives are when it comes to my Mother. I don’t mind telling you, I’m concerned about her getting hurt again and I can see that happening with you.”
“Well, I’m certainly not out to cause your Mother any pain, Skylar.”
“Men like you never are.”
“Men like me?” I repeated sarcastically.
“Yeah — friends one minute, lovers the next, followed by ancient history. Maybe if she’s lucky she’ll snap a photo of you while you two are out so that she can remember what you look like when you’re gone.”
“Look, Skylar, your Mother and I have discussed your feelings over her dating. I understand your concerns.”
“You don’t understand anything about my concerns. You didn’t have to listen to her crying herself to sleep every night when she found out my Dad was fucking his secretary on every business trip he took — I did.”
“I’m not your Dad, and believe it or not, every man out there isn’t out for one and only one thing.”
“So you’re telling me you’re different?” she said with a sarcastic twang in her voice. “That you’re not interested in sex — that you’re only interested in her friendship?”
My mind raced back to the night on the dance floor and the moment that Mary’s fingers pulled down my zipper before reaching her hand into my trousers to grab my cock. I snapped myself quickly back to the present. “Yes, I’m telling you I’m different.”
She stared at me with a narrow glare. “David, do you think I don’t notice how you look at me? I see the lust in your eyes every time I walk by. I saw you watching my ass like a dog in heat as I led you into the house the other day. Every time I turn around I see you staring at me — mentally undressing me.”
She wasn't far off, but I wasn’t about to admit it. The waiter arrived with our lunch, saving me from having to respond to her last comment. My mind raced with jumbled thoughts of what I would say next. I grabbed the dressing and shook it over my salad. She sat motionless, waiting for an answer. I looked up at her. “I don’t know where this is going Skylar, but I can tell you, you’re out of line.”
“Look, I’ll get right to the point. I want you to stop seeing my Mother now, before it goes any further and she ends up getting hurt, either because you fuck her and leave or end up sleeping with somebody else because she won’t put out.”
“I don’t think who your Mother dates is any of your business,” I said, stuffing my mouth with a fork full of lettuce.
“And I think it is my business, but I’m also not going to wait around for you to figure that out. I’ve got a deal for you, David.”
I looked at her curiously, wiping my mouth with my napkin before returning it my lap. “A deal, Skylar?” I said sarcastically.
“Uh huh.” She looked around and lowered her voice, leaning forward across the table towards me. “If you stop dating my Mother — tell her something that will let her down easy, you know, like your job is requiring you to move . . . I’ll let you take me to bed.”
I choked again, only this time on my salad. I grabbed the water and downed at least half the glass before the waiter appeared at the side of our table asking if I was okay. I waved him off in an unspoken signal that I would be fine.
“Excuse me?” I asked, catching my breath.
“You heard me. If you agree to stop seeing my Mother, I’ll go to bed with you. I’ll give you an experience you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”
I felt my heart starting to pound in my chest, my breathing becoming irregular. Suddenly the sounds of the diners nearby seemed to get louder; everything around me seemed to intensify. I looked back to Skylar who waited patiently for a response, a mischievous smile across her pouty lips.
“So, what do you say?” she added. “I’ll even suck your cock, but you can’t cum in my mouth. I will jerk you off though and let you cum on me, if that’s what you’re into.”
This was proving to be insane and in a hurry. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. “You’re a very disturbed young lady,” I said, trying to get the waiter’s attention for the check.
“Disturbed!” she started to shout. “Why? Because I don’t wait around to be a victim like half the women I know? Because I know what men want and I make sure I get something in return — something besides a cold shoulder and maybe a bouque