4 comments/ 3366 views/ 6 favorites Love's Notion By: AlDaltrey CHAPTER ONE. I was 12 years old. He was the same age. We were both fresh faced, naive, and surely hesitant but eager participants; to discover love, or at the very least, something deeper. Finding ourselves at Belinda Huntington's home - an overindulged precocious girl -- for her birthday party, where the main source of entertainment would be an exceedingly slippery game of spin-the-bottle. My mother drove me to her house; a renovated Victorian echoing the charm and social status of the occupants who were oblivious to their good fortune, living within steps of the River Walk. We lived in a modest residence by comparison. Being blessed with a mature sense of self, I knew an invitation to Belinda's party was seen as the ultimate compliment and unexpectedly, she had extended one to me. Unexpected, for a quiet and studious girl who knew her lack of social popularity excluded her from most events, such as these. I remember being nervous, entering her lavish home, cautiously ascending the staircase to the upper third floor family room and secretly pondering where to position myself, reluctantly blushing as I sat courageously beside my first crush. His name was Marc Tullford. He was rare, one of the lucky ones, with a unique cool name just because he had a 'c' instead of a 'k'; and was smarter than most with seemingly little effort. Marc was blessed with big hands and arms that looked like they belonged on someone much taller. He had dark hair and green eyes which were rimmed with thick lashes. Through the grade school years, I had observed him from afar; although unfortunately, few words were exchanged between us. I was shy, he was not. Unintentionally, I had committed to my memory bank, that unmistakable feeling of tummy butterflies and pure unsolicited exhilaration, just by being close to him. So there we were, sitting in Belinda's third floor family room. We ate hot dogs and sipped on sweet root beer floats. I remember the food and everything about the first boy I ever kissed. I had not spoken to, nor heard of Marc since then. As I drove, I wondered what made my mind wander back to those adolescent moments of sexual awakening. Coming home after all these years? Or the fact that I was driving for days, and I had examined every aspect of my adult life with no foregone conclusions? I was now searching my treasure chest of childhood memories for possible insight. Self examination: unattached single woman, mid-30s, knowingly attractive, highly educated, charmed personality...absolutely acceptable, if I say so myself! To most, the absenteeism of male suitors was surely a product of my overzealous quest for career advancement. Perhaps some questioned my demeanour; years past gleefully gossiping at every possible opportunity. And either explanation was surely justifiable as to why this lovely young woman was unattached. Inwardly, I knew my perfectly acceptable status didn't equate to preferable, to me. Finally heading south and seeing the mileage sign, being tired but relieved that I'm on highway 35, San Antonio was only minutes away. I can't believe I'm moving back home! Driving from Chicago was a long haul, but thankfully it was a one-way trip. "Vivian, you are all woman, there is nothing you can't do. Yeah well, a few things...never mind, don't let your mind wander there, stay awake and keep driving," I said out loud as if hearing the sound of my voice made me less lonely. Solitude naturally procured this habit of me speaking out loud, while driving, and was perhaps the only quirky thing about me. Or so I thought. Plus, knowing that the occasional witness would assume I was speaking into my phone helped justify the idiosyncrasy. Yes, knowing no one could ever hear me, I would have inspirational natter on most interstates. Urban expansion coupled with a decade of renewal had not escaped San Antonio, but the one thing that remained; a charming river aligned with restaurants, shops, and spellbound visitors: the River Walk. Purposely purchasing my condo within steps and a breathtaking view of the river was the prudent thing to do. I was alone; hence living close to the bustle of people was the precise backdrop for happiness. My family lives here in San Antonio, and I was returning home. Pulling into the underground garage, I loaded my arms with as much as I could carry, and walked toward the elevator. My furniture was delivered the week prior, along with my personal belongings which were neatly packed. Twelve stories up, I turned the key and opened the door to my new home. I was fortunate to have a week to unpack and finish decorating my condo and putting everything in its place. Choosing a creamy white palate with splashes of color on the walls and decorative accents made the space stylish and current. I loved to decorate. Slick and modern furnishings complemented me and my lifestyle. That said, what I really longed for was a Georgian style home, filled with comfortable furniture and a family of my own, but I knew that was not feasible. As the hospital administrator, my new position was lucrative but demanding. Keeping abreast of medical advances, government regulations, technology, and the ever-evolving health care insurance and financing options, was relentless. The hospital was conveniently located a few city blocks from a new state-of-the-art fitness club which I joined on my very first day at work. Everything suited me, and I was ready to work and start my new life - right back where it all began. At the club, I signed up for a massage with Salina who apparently gave fabulous and effective rubdowns. I asked her to concentrate on my upper neck region; she was so good that I almost fell asleep. My mind wandered. I had no experience with women, but was always a little curious. Women being so pretty and sexy, that they are often the main appetizer in my sexual fantasies. Could a fantasy become a reality? Would I be able to ever go through with it? No one would ever find out. I wasn't sure if I would like it. With new beginnings, I felt like being a bit of a rebel. After all, there would only be one way to satisfy my curiosity. A month had passed. My new job was proceeding along as expected and I was also able to visit with my parents on a regular basis. A family dinner on Sunday night, where attendance was mandatory, was something to look forward to at the end of each weekend. Playing and interacting with my two nephews was the highlight by far. I loved that feeling every time I heard them say 'Aunt Vivie.' Visiting with family was even more enjoyable when a Spurs game was blaring from the flat screen; hoping for a win as all of us yelled. Yes, I was right back where I should be, with family. Deciding to make an effort to socialize beyond work associates, I became friendly with my neighbors at the condo and especially Salina from the fitness club, who always seemed to be overly talkative. Either my fitness friend was attracted to me or wanted to assist me in my never-ending pursuit of physical perfection. It was Sunday night, after our family dinner, and I decided to unpack a few of the remaining boxes. My condo had a den which housed a bookshelf, desk and a small sitting area. Opening one of the boxes, I placed my childhood photo albums on the vacant shelf. Accidently, one album fell to the ground. Looking down at it, I glanced at the photo of my grade 7 school class. Picking it up, I smiled as I scanned my classmates, loving the dated hair and clothes, only to notice one particular person. Is that him, Marc Tullford? What a coincidence. I was just thinking about him on my drive from Chicago. Whatever happened to him? I got very sick in grade 8 and missed a lot of the school year, and after that, I lost touch with most of those kids. My family had moved to a nicer home and I found myself attending a high school in a completely different neighborhood. Eyeing my computer and then the clock, I decided to do some creeping of old school mates. But first, I put on my favorite pajamas and made a cup of tea. Carefully placing the mug down, and finding a comfortable position at my new desk, I started searching on my laptop, starting with Facebook. There were so many Tullfords. I wasn't sure. Was he even living here? Would I recognize him? Grade 7 until now, that's a long time. For all I know, he could be unrecognizable, overweight and bald! Sharpening my creeper skills, I decidedly moved my search over to LinkedIn, keyed information into the search bar and scanned the plethora of possibilities. There's one in San Antonio. I can't believe I'm doing this. Squirming in my seat, I spot a possibility. Is that him, if there's a picture I should be able to tell by those eyes? I clicked on the link. Oh, I think that's him! Is it? Yes it looks like him! I held up our school photo. Wow. Well I'll be. That IS him. Look at you, Marc. Well I'll be damned, you're fucking HOT. I quickly scanned the information. He works for one of the big banks downtown. It looks like he has done well for himself; really well. Going back to the Google search I'm able to find more details about him. Holy crap, I can't believe all of the information you can find on here. Damn...fuck! He's married. Suddenly, I felt a deep sense of disappointment. I don't know why that upset me, but it did. I slumped back in my chair and just stared at the screen. Ok, so married. Unbelievable, talk about an invasion of one's privacy, here's his home address. I sat thinking, tapping my manicured fingers on the desktop, then hastily took a slip of paper and wrote it down. Vivian, get a grip, you can't go to his house. That is just wrong. Knock on his door and say what? Well, unless I just do a drive-by as that is less creepy. I'm just curious to see how well he did in the banking industry and a perhaps sneak a glimpse of his wife. There's no harm in looking! "Let's see how well Mr. Grade 7 Smart Boy did?" speaking outwardly and declaring my mission. So, with that little piece of Marc in hand, I turned off the computer and walked to my bedroom, placing the paper on my nightstand. Walking into my en-suite; I brushed my teeth and did other bathroom rituals. I removed my pajama top, wanting to feel the cool crisp linens on my skin, as I crawled under the covers. I laid there for the longest time, just thinking. I thought of Marc and our first kiss. I tried to remember everything about him. Thinking, dreaming, and imagining what he would be like as a mature man. Glancing over at the piece of paper I said, "Watch this Marc, I'm going to finger my clit, around and around, until I come, and I will think of you the whole time." With that, I turned off the light and brought myself to orgasm faster than you can say Marc Tullford. CHAPTER TWO. The next work week flew by. Being a creature of habit, my routine was as follows: work early in the morning, fitness before dinner, a light bite, walk along the river, read or mindless TV before bed. My body was strong and supple. I had an ongoing love affair with fashion and was determined to keep my frame slender. My hair was light brown and with the occasional highlights, I could be a blonde at a moment's notice. At work, many men tried to date or sleep with me, but I made it a rule to separate my sex life from my career. At the gym, from time to time, I bumped into Salina who now spearheaded the massage therapy section of the club. Her quick wit and charming personality grew on me. She was quite beautiful in fact, with short stylish hair dyed a burgundy red and big baby blue eyes. Her figure was second to none, and she had no problem flaunting her overt sexuality. On one particular occasion, while I was taking a steam, she quietly entered the room. We were not alone. Some women prefer to lie down on their towels others sit. I was sitting on the upper bench with my towel pooled at my waist and she spotted me, placing her towel close to mine. Turning to me, she offered her perfect smile. After a minute or so, she undid the towel that was secured above her breasts, letting it drop. Her skin was darker than mine and beautifully smooth. I indiscreetly helped myself to occasional glimpses of her small and perfectly shaped breasts. She asked how my day was and I wanted to tell her that she was making it more interesting by the minute. The room was steamy, but you could clearly see the person beside you. Her breasts were glistening with moisture as if waiting to be licked dry. As we chatted casually, Salina failed to hide her frequent scrutiny of my breasts. Her eyes moved down my neck, onto one nipple and then leisurely over to the other. Both tips hardened from the visual attention, and her eyes smiled at my evident arousal. I was a little embarrassed. I was mindful not to assume she was attracted to me. However, when she moved her leg up, and curled one foot under the other thigh, I knew her provocative overtures were not misguided. She was completely naked and her vagina was available for my viewing pleasure. Welcome home Vivian and meet Salina. We finished our conversation, and as she got up to leave, I couldn't help but think I had been put through some test. The next evening, with no particular plans and after a quick drink with some work friends, I picked up a few groceries. Standing at the cash, I flipped open my wallet to get some change and there was that little piece paper with the address and a sketchy map which I drew. Should I drive by his house? Packing the groceries into the back of my SUV I kept playing it over in my head, wavering on what to do. What the heck Vivian? Just drive by his stupid house. He wouldn't recognize you even if he fell over you. Plus you'll be in your car; you can drive away. Looking at the piece of paper, I navigated my way out of the parking lot and drove over toward his street. I had butterflies in my stomach. This is kind of exciting. Okay, turning left, here is his street. Driving slowly, I spotted some house numbers. Why are some so evident and some hidden? That bugs me. Especially, when I am spying like this. I giggled to myself. That's it. There it stood. I pulled over to the opposite side of the street, a few houses away. Evidently, the banking industry has served him well. Well, his wife certainly has exquisite taste. There it was, in all its glory, a beautiful three story Georgian house. Then, to my complete and utter horror, the front door opened and a very handsome man with two small children walked out. I watched as he helped them into a SUV. Is that him? Oh, shit! That's definitely the address. From a distance it really does look like him, or at the very least, how I envisioned him. Children! He has two kids too. This is getting worse by the minute. He slowly pulled out of the driveway. Responsible too. I quickly bent over toward the passenger seat as they drove past my vehicle, just to be sure he didn't see me. My heart was beating out of my chest; I sat back up slowly and watched them drive away in my rear view mirror, until I couldn't see them anymore. For the next little while, I just sat there, staring at the house. With that, I started to cry. The following week I immersed myself in my work and any activity that would keep my mind off of him and that unmistakable feeling of disappointment and loss over something that I never had: a loving husband for one, and then two adorable children. Keeping busy was good for me. I knew that. Suppressing my feelings and putting on my happy face was my specialty. That's what I did. As far as my family and colleagues were concerned, Vivian Johanson had it all under control. One night after my workout, unplanned, Salina met me in the locker room and suggested that we go out for a drink. I love the way her lips formulate each word and glide smoothly over her perfect teeth when she smiles. Salina was finishing her shift and was free. So we went to a nearby restaurant and sat at the bar, drinking a few too many cocktails and got to know each other. Yes, admittedly I was attracted to her. Again, in my slightly inebriated state, I found myself gazing at her mouth as she spoke and wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. Her flirtatious ways and overt body language told me she felt the same. The next day, she sent me a text. She had a spot available at the end of her shift, the following evening, and wondered if I would like that time slot -- or better yet, we could meet at her apartment for a private session. I knew what she meant. We had flirted around the subject during our bar date. Her, wanting to treat me to a massage because she was learning this new technique and I would be helping her out by letting her practice on me. I had to mull this over. A few hours later, I replied to her text letting her know that I was available and my shoulders were a little stiff and needed some attention. She loved my text message and replied that she'd know exactly the right moves to help with that. Yes, this encounter would be a good diversion. I felt so naughty and it felt so good. That day I left work, and on my way home I drove past Marc's house, just to torture myself. That evening once home, I played my music loud, got into the bath and shaved myself everywhere I could. I was now ready, willing and available for any possible adventure with Salina. I most certainly didn't sleep well but woke up with a certain excitement. It was difficult to concentrate at work, but being extremely busy helped, and the day flew by. Salina sent me a text letting me know what time to arrive and her home address. She also asked if I would like to go for a light dinner afterward. I told her yes. After all, if our session was a disaster I could feign an illness and excuse myself. I drove myself to her place and nervously rang her apartment. She answered immediately and buzzed me up. I could hear music playing. She opened the door wearing shorts and t-shirt. She was so very pretty. Immediately she offered me a drink. Good thing. I was nervous, but it quickly evaporated with the help of a glass of Chardonnay. In her living room, a massage table was ready for its customer. She kissed me ever so gently on my lips and asked if I would like to get naked. Handing me a robe, she turned abruptly, leaving the room. I removed my clothes, placed them neatly on a chair, and stood awkwardly waiting for Salina to return. It felt like I was in a gynacologist's office waiting for the doctor to return for my examination. Salina smiled at me as she walked back into the living room and over to the table. She slipped her hand into the belt and untied it. With the robe partially opened, walking behind me, she took her hands, caressed my neck and removed my robe. I was naked with her front to my back and feeling so exposed and vulnerable. I could feel my face blush and Salina's eyes on my skin. "Vivian, you are so fucking beautiful. Please, lay down on the table, face down and we'll begin. You can trust me, and if you don't like it, we'll stop." Salina stated softly. I nodded, turning to her and said with a slight sarcastic tone, "Trust me, I'm more worried about you." Salina smiled, leaned in and ever so gently placed a kiss on my mouth. Her lips were soft and full. Just like I had envisioned. Our lips played a sensual dance exploring one another for the first time. Tongues found their way to each other. Exploring and caressing. I was sexually aroused, feeling pleasure all the way down into my pelvis. Kissing her was soft, enjoyable and highly arousing. I was beginning to really like this feeling. She guided me onto the table that had fresh clean white linens. I was relieved when she made me lay on my front. I was even more at ease when she covered my lower body with a white warm towel. So Salina was actually going to give me a massage. This would be a win/win with me receiving a massage and a possible orgasm. Love's Notion Soft music was playing; the room was dimly lit from a small table lamp. I was a little tense. My arms were at my sides and my legs were squeezed together. I closed my eyes and she told me that she would be using lightly scented oil. She let me pick between two scents. I preferred the second one; as it had just a hint of lavender, this being one of my favorites. She warmed her hands with the oil and started to rub and dig into my shoulders. One arm at a time, then she moved her hands over my whole back. It was so relaxing. My breasts were pressed into the sheets and she ran her hands down the sides of my back, stopping to feel the sides of my full breasts. Moving her hands further down towards my ass, I clenched my butt cheeks. She used more oil as she ran her hands over the top part of my lower torso and as I relaxed she'd move the towel lower. Touching and caressing me, until I was no longer shy or reluctant. The towel was gone. Her hands explored my thighs; down each leg to my feet with strong, firm and yet very soft caresses. The oil was warmed by her hands and my body heat. I felt her thumbs massage my inner thighs, moving up close toward my vagina. I spread my legs ever so slightly wider, inviting her hands in. She ran her oiled fingertips over the outer part of my vagina. I could feel her pressing there and slowly working her way inside my slit. My moisture mixed with the oil. She glided her hand under me placing a thick towel under my pelvis which naturally arched my behind up. Her hands found me once again, gliding all over as she explored and found my clit which was pooled in oil and my own juices. She used her hands to gently prod my legs further apart. This gave Salina full access to my most private parts. I was no longer shy. I wanted this. One hand entered my slippery and soft vagina while her other hand rubbed my clit. This feels soooo good. I squirmed as she stroked me over and over again. Pressing and circling my hardened button while her other hand fingered my hole, I was drowning in my own pleasure. Slippery hands stroked and pressed and within minutes, I exploded all over her hand. I just laid there enjoying the aftermath of my orgasm. The music gently continued. It was a classical piece that seemed to caress my body. I was so relaxed. My eyes were closed and I could feel my pussy pulsing. As if waiting for a throbbing cock. That's when she told me to turn over. I opened my eyes and was asked if I would like a frontal massage? Salina was exceptionally beautiful and started to unbutton her top. I was lost for words, and before I could answer, she bent down and sucked on my nipple, then the other, until they were rock hard. I watched as her full lips lavished attention on each breast by sucking them into her mouth. She stood up, looked me in the eyes and slowly removed her top. Then her simple black bra dropped away. Her nipples were small, dark and pointy surrounded by a perfect mound of flesh. I had the urge to suck them; not knowing what it would be like. Salina leaned forward and rubbed her tiny pointed nipple around my lips; first around my bottom lip and then my top lip. I kissed it slowly, brought it into my mouth and then started to suck. This was foreign to me. I wanted to play. She pulled it out and offered me her other nipple. I licked it slowly, bit down slightly, pulled on it and suckled. Oh, I loved sucking them. It never dawned on me to use my hands. My mouth was all I needed and obviously all she wanted. She pulled away, reapplied oil to her hands, and massaged my breasts. They were very slippery. I watched as she played with both of them, arching them up for more play. My breasts were larger than hers and my skin was pale by comparison. Oh, it felt so good as she touched and played...so arousing to watch. She slid her hands down my waist and once again found my clit. My tender pussy felt soft and full. At that moment, she reached under the table and handed me a wand vibrator as she turned it on. Was this for me, her, or both of us? I would let her take the lead. I liked to do that during sex. Hopping up on the table, she straddled me at my waist. She opened her pussy lips, showing me her clit. I had seen this view before. I knew what she wanted. I placed the vibrator over her lips and all around, lightly pressed her clit. She moaned and wiggled as the wand pressed into her wet pussy. I was no stranger to this lovely little apparatus. I let her take the lead once more as she turned around, with her hips up in the air; positioning her pussy close to my face. I smelled her juices. I kept the vibrator moving all over her vagina. She moved down my body, took her hands and separated my pussy lips which were swollen and glistening wet. Was she going to kiss me there? No need to ask, as she shoved her face into my throbbing pussy and she sucked my clit into her mouth. Her lips were soft and melted into me. I didn't want her to stop. I kept pressing the vibrator onto her clit and surrounding flesh. The vibrator was dripping with her juices. It turned me on knowing I was pleasing her. Meanwhile, her sweet mouth kept up the relentless sweet torture on my clit. Bringing it into her mouth to tongue massage it, and letting it out. Over and over again. Salina knew how to eat pussy, lucky me! I could feel her mouth move down to my opening and use her tongue as a spoon to help herself to my overflowing juices. Her whole face seemed to circle and press into my clit and the surrounding flesh. She was drinking me in. Moving with such conviction, knowing I could not hold out any longer, as my orgasm released me from all reality. I was truly lost. Just at that moment, when I must admit I was barely paying attention, she stiffened and cried out with the sweetest sound. She came. Yes, Salina gave a wonderful massage and now I must go shopping to buy myself a vibrator just like hers. Afterward, we shared another glass of wine and enjoyed some small talk which was exactly the right thing to do. We both decided that we'd pass on the dinner out. I went home, showered all of that oil off, and got into my bed. I looked into the top drawer of my night stand, and pulled out my trusted vibrator, the rotating rabbit, and gave myself my third orgasm of the night. I realized something about myself tonight: sometimes a girl just wants to get fucked! CHAPTER THREE The next morning I woke up, made myself my morning tea and gazed out over the River Walk and beyond. While I drove to work, I kept shaking my head. I couldn't believe I had experienced that. Admittedly, I did enjoy myself, and it was a good distraction. But I had to admit one thing: I wanted a man. Again, on the way home from work I drove by Marc's house. Yes, I was becoming a stalker. Or was I one already? The next day, I decided I would walk by Marc's workplace on my lunch hour. While strolling, I looked up at the largest sky scraper in San Antonio, a marvel of postmodern design, and this just happened to be his office building. I walked through the lobby. I wonder what time he takes his lunch? Perhaps one day I would be able to run into him, accidentally. After all, I couldn't just walk up to his house and knock on his front door. I'd freak him and his wife out. By the third day, I decided to go after work because the lunch stalking wasn't working out. No sign of Mr. Smart Boy. I don't know why I was getting obsessed over this; I just wanted to talk to him - a little conversation is all. It was an itch that needed scratching. Plus, now that I had started all this, I need to finish it. He was married and I would never interfere in that. Talking is not an affair, right? I could walk right into his office and ask to meet with him. No, that would be way too obvious, and then he would know I was stalking him. No, I better do it outside, in neutral territory. Something just dawned on me; he might not even remember me. That was entirely possible. That would be embarrassing. If that was the case, I would need a quick escape. Outside would be best. So I would try tomorrow after work. The next day at my office, I was completely distracted. I wore a classic red shift dress that I had at the back of my closet and stylish black patent heels. Looking good was a must for our 'chance meeting'. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I just couldn't help myself. Maybe I needed a new hobby. Before leaving work, on my way out, I decided to pop into the women's washroom, double checking my reflection in the mirror. Mascara and a touch of lip gloss did my face justice and I wore my hair in a ponytail in memory of my youth. Here goes it Vivian and you better hope he remembers you, if not -- you will never, ever, walk on that street again. Leaving, I passed a small girl coming into the washroom all alone. She was very young; blonde and adorable. I didn't want to startle her, so as I passed, I just gave her a small smile. It was a small three stall bathroom and she was alone in there. Where was her mother? I decided I would wait outside the washroom, just to make sure she would be safe. Walking out, I looked back into the washroom, and as I took a few steps forward I bumped - no crashed - into a man, using my hands to steady myself on his firm chest. "Excuse me," I said in apology. "That's quite alright. My daughter just went in there to use the washroom. I'm just waiting for her," said this handsome, tall, and slightly familiar man. I stood, speechless. It was Marc Tullford, himself! My heart raced. Wait a minute, I was just leaving work to stalk you. You can't be here. I swallowed and found my voice. "I..I..just saw her," I stammered, "she's ok, the washroom is empty." "Thanks, oh good...you look...aren't you--?" he began. I found my voice, "I'm Vivian Johanson," saying it with some newly found confidence, even though I felt my face flaming up like a neon sign. He extended his hand and with a genuine soothing voice said, "Vivian, of course, wow. Nice to see you after all this time. Wow. I'm Marc Tullford. Do you remember me from grade school?" Do I remember you? Crap, I know your height, weight and social security number. By the way -- you have a really nice chest (I mean house). Placing my hand in his, he shook it lightly. His hand was warm and secure. We just stood there smiling at each other. "I can usually find family washrooms when we're out. But I guess they don't have 'em here in the hospital. I don't like her to go into washrooms without me and you know, I can't take her into the men's washroom and I can't go into the women's washroom and there are so many crazy people out there. I'm sorry...I'm babbling!" Marc explained with a huge smile. "I work here," I blurted out. Smooth. Marc cocked his head to the side and said, "Oh, my daughter and I are visiting her friend from school--" Just then the bathroom door opened and his daughter came barrelling out. He extended his arm and she automatically placed her tiny hand in his, "Vivian, this is my daughter Jennifer. Daddy used to go to school with this nice lady when I was really young." I looked down into her sweet face and she looked up at me just grinning. I said hello and she squeezed her father tighter, shielding her face behind his arm. "Well, I guess we should go," as he glanced at his watch, "we have to pick up my son from the sitters. It was so nice to bump into you," he said kindly. I wasn't sure what to do next. Me, standing there in front of this package of perfection and feeling completely dumbfounded. I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know if he remembered me in the same way that I so fondly remembered him. We were so young, but it meant something to me. "Yes, it was so nice to see you after all this time," I murmured, "take care." Just then, as I stood there rooted to my spot, he started to walk away. He turned slightly and said over his shoulder as his daughter stood sweetly by his side, "I work at Bank of America Plaza on Convent Street, 5th floor investing. Come by and we could go for coffee. If you'd like?" Was he asking me on a date? No, he was just asking you for a coffee -- look at his adorable daughter. I smiled and accepted his proposal with, "Yeah sure, maybe later this week?" "Ok... great, good. Nice to see you Vivian," he said with affirmation. With that, I simply nodded my head in agreement -- words mysteriously abandoning me once again - and he turned and walked away. The image of Marc and his daughter, walking away, scanned into my brain forever. I drove straight home, put on my running shoes and went for a walk by the river. It was a beautiful spring night, and as it had rained earlier, everything smelled alive and fresh. Or perhaps that was just the way I was feeling. I played the scene over a million times in my head. Sometimes after social situations, I replay the conversations in my head, things that I should have said, comparing it to what I did say. With him, it was the funniest thing; I couldn't remember what he said. But I do remember how he made me feel. I decided to wait a few days before I stalked him at his office, deciding on a mid-day visit, as that would be the most inconspicuous. But now, since we met, I won't put that into the stalking category. So technically, I am no longer a stalker. Hi Marc, I'm just casually dropping in, haven't really given you a second thought since we last saw each other. Friday was a good day to visit. I got up earlier than usual, gave my hair that arduous blow dry that required patience and special tools. He worked in finance, so I decided on fashionable office attire. Slender navy blazer with matching ankle pants and a soft pink ruffled sleeveless blouse set off by elegant heels. I applied my makeup carefully. So, if he rejects me at his office, at least I'll look good slinking away. That morning at my office, I received numerous compliments on my appearance. So many, in fact, I thought I must be a mess on most days. By 11:30 the butterflies were back in my tummy as I made my way over to Marc's office. I arrived at the Bank of America tower; where the concierge knowingly gave direction to Mr. Tullford's office. Taking the elevator up to his floor, I examined my reflection in the mirror. My hair was neat and tidy in the low pony tail, and my makeup was minimal but precisely applied. Then I wondered: is some creepy security guy having a laugh at my expense watching me look at myself? The doors opened and I walked over to the reception desk. I asked the overly accommodating receptionist if I could speak with Mr. Tullford. She asked for my name and then told me to sit in the reception waiting area. This was more formal than I had originally imagined. I sat on the edge of a tan leather chair, crossing my legs at the ankles, and waited for Marc. Maybe he will be too busy and then that will be the end of my stalking career. Instead, I`d become a full-time lesbian with relaxed back muscles. A few minutes later, the receptionist came over to me and told me Mr. Tullford would be with me in a moment; asking, ever so politely, if I would like an iced tea or water beverage while I wait. Well, you should have seen Mr. Tullford when he was 12 and feeling my boobies through my blouse at Belinda Huntington's house. But no thank you on the beverage. So I picked up a magazine and pretended to be interested. Five minutes felt like an eternity, with constant glances to my watch. He came walking down the hall, self-assured and extremely attractive. He had on a grey suit, well tailored, a crisp shirt and purple tie. Mr. Tullford, you or your wife have exquisite taste, and you've most definitely have grown into those arms of yours. I stood up as graciously as I could muster and he offered me his hand. This time, he placed his other hand on top of mine. It felt so right. So warm and comforting. I could see the receptionist watching us from the corner of my eye. Yes, don't worry, I am just a friend from years gone past. I know he's taken. "Hi Vivian, I'm so glad you found me here," he said kindly. "Hi, I hope this isn't a bad time for you?" Please say no, say it's ok. Marc crooked his head to the side and replied, "No, this is perfect timing. Would you like to go for a quick lunch or coffee? Are you on your lunch hour?" I smiled as he made me oh so happy and said, "This is my lunch. I'm pretty flexible with my time. I can go for a bite to eat or coffee, any place is fine with me." Any place as long as it's with you, I wanted to say. He smiled and nodded his head, "Great, there's a place across the street that has an excellent lunch menu, and if we leave now, we'll get a good table." With that, we started to walk to the elevator. The doors opened, and he stepped aside, letting me enter first. Good manners, I noted. I watched him press the button. He had beautiful manly hands. I could certainly put those to use. Too bad for you Vivian, you're late to the party. He turned, looked at me and said, "You know with your hair up like that, you look just like you did when we were kids. Obviously a little older, but the same girl I knew then." "You're the same too, except now you have to shave." With that we started to laugh. The elevator doors opened, and we walked together toward the restaurant. Walking beside him, I noticed that he was taller than me, even with my kick ass high heels. We crossed the street, exchanging small talk about the weather. When we arrived at the restaurant, the hostess placed us at a table for two in the front window. It was a charming bistro with comfortable seating. He politely asked what I would like to drink. Alcoholic drink or not? As if he could read my mind, he told me he would be ordering a beer for himself. Oh good, so I ordered a vodka soda with lime. We spent our lunch talking about where we went to college and our career paths. Our likes: travelling, sports, personal fitness, cooking (my love of cooking and his love of eating). We didn't talk about his marriage or my lack of marriage. I assumed he knew I wasn't married due to me not mentioning it and nothing to show on the appropriate ring finger. He wore a wedding band on his left hand. The lunch flew by, and it was time for us to go back to our respective offices. The bill came and I went to grab for it. "Um, I never let a lady pay. But...thank you for the offer." His tone was serious and very firm, and something told me that I need not press the issue any further. He was extremely confident. I smiled sweetly and quietly said, "Why thank you Sir, this lady appreciates your generosity." He stared for a few seconds into my eyes, and shook his head. Marc Tullford has a firm disposition. Leaving the restaurant I wondered if this would be it. Our one and only encounter began, and then ended, with a quaint lunch on a Friday afternoon. I was most curious to speak with him about our childhood, and oddly enough we didn't even talk about that. We were at ease with each other. But, he was the one that was married; I certainly would not want to interfere, so I decided at that moment to let him take the lead on this. Perhaps we could remain friendly. We walked outside, and I turned to him and said, "Thanks for the lunch Marc. It was my pleasure to see you again and—" "Would you like to get together this weekend? I think I can get away Sunday afternoon. Maybe we could go for a drive? What do you say?" He said it, almost planning out loud as he said it. I was a little surprised. "Umm, ok. Sunday afternoon. That works for me. I can drive, if you like. Do you want to meet somewhere?" I asked, speaking a little fast, as I was nervous. Suddenly it felt like we were planning a date. He smirked at me, "No, Vivian, I'll drive this time. I'll pick you up, if you'll give me your address." This time? Love's Notion I started to look for a piece of paper and he asked if I could text it instead. So I grabbed my iPhone, and we exchanged a text. He stood close to me, and I noticed that he smelled good, clean with a light scent of something that was enticing. I thanked him once again for lunch. I wasn't sure if I should shake his hand or how to say goodbye. He simply leaned in and brushed his cheek to mine and whispered in my ear and said, "The pleasure was mine. You are just as lovely as you were when we were 12." He stepped back and we just looked at each other. "Sunday", he nodded to me and swiftly left. I walked to my car, with my feet barely touching the ground. I couldn't believe how comfortable we were with each other during lunch. I enjoyed him. I went to my fitness centre that night to sweat out a little sexual frustration. I did about a half hour on the treadmill and then decided on a Pilates class. On my way into the steam room, I noticed that Salina was not in her office, and her name plate was removed. I was curious and asked at the front counter. They said that she had abruptly moved to Houston for a job opportunity. She had left a lovely note for me at the counter, wishing me well. I was actually at peace with not seeing her again. I would chalk it up to one crazy night! Going home that night, I felt like driving by his house. I wondered what he was up to. Probably sitting with his wife right now enjoying a glass of wine, you fool. Instead, I drove home and put on some music and cleaned my condo. Two hours later, I was exhausted as I crawled into my bed, hugged my pillow, and imagined what my life could have been if I wasn't me. Saturday morning, I scanned my casual wardrobe and declared it required a new addition, so I spent that afternoon shopping at The shops at LaCantera. My retail therapy excursion consisted of: a complete outfit, two new pairs of shoes, and a new lipstick to adorn my lips. All day as I popped into different stores, I kept reminding myself that Marc and I were just friends, and this shopping spree was just that...this splurge was not for a 'date'. A new girlfriend and I, from my condo, went out to the movies on Saturday night, followed by a quick dinner, and I was home before midnight. I was a little distracted, preoccupied in fact, with our pending Sunday drive. Go ahead; admit to your guilt Vivian, your girlfriend won't know, you're falling for a married man. Then it hit me like a freight train, I wasn't falling. I still had a mad crush on the boy who sat two seats over in math class. That boy who is now married with a family. I could meet his wife, and that boy would transition into a casual friend for me to love like a brother. Yes, that was my plan. Arriving back home I snuggled my head into my pillow thinking about my pending non-date. I'd be kidding myself if I didn't admit to giving in to my sense of excitement about seeing Marc tomorrow. Turning the light off, my head snuggled into the soft fluffy pillow. Yes, I was so tired and... I was up in Belinda Huntington's house, not alone. Marc was there. We were not kids anymore. We were adults. I was naked. He had on that business suit. He told me he knew what I needed. I was naked and sitting up with my breasts thrust out. For some reason, I was leaning forward as he slapped my breasts from side to side. My nipples were hard. My arms were tied behind my back at my elbows with some weird rope. I wanted more and I felt my vagina pulsing, becoming so wet. I kept thinking...hey, why am I naked in this, and you're not? Hits to all areas of both breasts. He towered over me and was in command. He kept saying that he knew what I wanted, needed. I remember I loved the feeling, slapping my tits. It was so erotic, being slapped like that. It stung and felt so good at the same time. I loved it. I was worried about someone coming in through the door. He told me to hush and not to worry. He used those man hands I saw in the elevator and teased my nipples. I watched his thumbs manoeuvring around each nipple, enticing them. He was not like any other lover. Somehow he flipped me over the back of the couch. The one we sat on at that party. Then all I remember is him grabbing my hips tightly and pounding me from behind, filling my hole made just for him. It felt out of this world. I wanted to see him, but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. Filling me with his cock...made for me. He was fucking me in my dream, and I loved it. I came in my sleep. Or so I thought. It woke me up. What the hell was that? I have never dreamed like that before. Or had sex like that! Plus, no guy has ever slapped my breasts. That was Marc in my dream, and he fucked me. Lovers exist like that? I'll have to find me one of those. I'm now wide awake. Being so turned on like that I had to feel myself; and so my hand traveled down to my naked lower half. I was soaking and swollen. That was one hot dream. I liked, no I loved, him punishing my breasts. I felt my nipples. They were rock hard. What was happening to me? I turned over, brought my knees up, moved my hand back down and found my clit that was yearning for attention. Easily found, I pressed on it rubbing my dream juices all around. I shut my eyes, envisioning my slapped tits being sucked by him. I wasn't sure if I had ever felt myself this wet or swollen. I came too quickly. Minutes later, I snuggled back into my pillow. Not surprisingly, I slept well for the rest of the night. CHAPTER FOUR In the late morning, I took extra care in getting ready. My hair softly framed my face. Again, my makeup was minimal. I was fortunate to have inherited my mother's skin and blue eyes. He had sent me a text, telling me to dress casual. So, cream pants and a baby blue blouse were fitting. I wasn't sure exactly what Marc had in mind for the afternoon. Maybe he could only spend an hour with me? My phone buzzed, and he was waiting for me downstairs. I grabbed my purse and made my way down the elevator. He'd probably be waiting in his SUV out in the front of my building. Stepping off the elevator, I was looking down at my cute new patterned flats, and walked right into... I almost fell; I was walking fast, with my head down. Damn! Second time I bumped into him. What the hell? Someone must have let him into the lobby. Marc steadied me with his hands on my arms and said, "Whoa, I've got ya". My face went red; I did not think he would be in my lobby waiting for me here. I said too loudly, "Oh, you surprised me. I thought you would be outside in your car. But this is nice. Yeah, it's nice. Thanks for coming into my lobby." Ok, shut up now Vivian. We stood there and for a minute just looked at each other, smiling. It was if we were just meeting for the first time. It felt awkward and comfortable at the same time. He really had the most beautiful eyes. Marc continued to look at me and finally broke our silence with, "Your hair looks nice like that." All I could do was smile back. Just like being back in school, I was happy just be being close to him. He placed his hand on the small of my back and motioned me toward the front door. His hand felt so right being placed there, guiding and protecting me. I wondered at that moment if he could feel my heart pounding. He opened the passenger door, but it wasn't his SUV. Instead, I found myself sitting in this nice Lexus coupe. I wasn't a car person, but I knew that most people treat their cars like their pets: they like it when you pay them a compliment. He got into the driver seat, and turned to look at me. "You have a nice car," I said, a little awkwardly. Insightful comment Vivian. "Thanks, I usually drive my SUV, you know with the kids." He started to pull away, turned briefly to look at me, winked and said; "Besides I save this car for taking pretty women on Sunday afternoon joy rides". Yes, buddy, I would love to joy ride you. With that I put my sunglasses on. This way, he couldn't see where my eyes were focused. Whenever I could, I would sneak a glance at his hands on the wheel or his thick man knees pressed against the fabric of his pants or the way his bicep moved when he made a turn. I enjoyed seeing his hands handle the steering wheel. I could tell by the nicely fitted shirt he was wearing, that he too belonged to a gym. His driving skills were impeccable, and soon I relaxed beside him, as he played tour guide. We spent the next hour sightseeing. Between work and family, I'd spent very little time enjoying San Antonio. Essentially, I was seeing things I hadn't seen in years and some new things too. Marc was giving me a welcome home tour. We never stopped talking the entire way. We even talked about Belinda's party. Thankfully, we spared one another an embarrassing moment by not bringing up the memory of our little love session. He told me that he was the one who asked her to invite me; because he liked me back then. So, the mystery was solved. I remember wondering why she'd invited me. "I took the liberty of packing us a picnic that I think you'll like. You hungry?" He asked, looking like a young boy. "Umm, sure am," I wouldn't want to disappoint him after he went ahead and made the effort, but the truth be told, my tummy had those butterflies that were taking up residency whenever he was near. "Good then, here we are," he whispered as he leaned over. For a minute I thought he was going to kiss me, but he backed off. I was sure that would be crossing the line. We arrived at the Landa Library Gardens. A library? He explained that this was a quaint charming little park attached to a library that he often brought his children to. It was quaint with: arches and pillars, sculptures, fountains, small plaques and book shaped tablets located in the perfectly manicured gardens. "I've never been here before. It is enchanting," declaring my appreciation for him showing me this lovely place. He looked over at me and told me he had only ever brought his family here, and it was a special place. We walked until we found the perfect place to sit for our picnic. True to his word, he had packed my favorite type of lunch. He thought of everything, even a blanket to sit on. A French baquette, with different cheeses, some fruit and freshly baked chewy raisin oatmeal cookies. The tastiest cookies ever. He brought plastic wine glasses along with a smaller bottle of Merlot. Our conversation flowed. "I remembered that you like raisin oatmeal cookies. Once, in class, we had to do a poem about our favorite cookie," he smiled and leaned in and said, "you were the only girl in the class with a poem about raisin oatmeal cookies. Everyone else had chocolate chip, surprise, surprise." Then he looked upward and rolled his eyes. I watched as he took a sip of wine. An insect decided to invade our picnic. He swiftly swatted it away. Instantly, the memory of my previous night's dream came flooding back into my mind. Him slapping my breasts. I felt a tightening in my pelvis, and my nipples pressed against my bra. My face flamed to the colour of the wine. "Are you alright?" Marc asked gently. "Oh yes, just a little flushed from the wine," I whispered. If only he knew. Maybe he likes that sort of thing. Apparently, I do too. "Can I ask you a question?" he said. "Ask away," I replied. "What happened to you in school? Why did you disappear like that?" He asked. I wasn't expecting him to ask about that. "Oh, umm. Well, I got quite sick Marc. A childhood disease that I was immunized for but for some reason, didn't take. So, yeah. I was in the hospital for a long time, and then my mom kept me home. Same hospital that I work at now. Funny coincidence," I said in a quiet voice. It was something that I didn't talk about often. He leaned over and focused on my face as I continued. "That's why I'm not really with anyone. I'm...I'm unable to have children because of that illness." My eyes started to tear, so I put my sunglasses back over my eyes. No one would see me cry over that, not even Mark Tullford. "Vivian, I am really sorry. Truly, I am. Any man would be lucky to be with you. With or without children. I'm sorry you feel like that." I shrugged, "I am sure it is different for those couples that find that out after they fall in love. But I know now. I'm alone for a reason. So, that is how it has to be. It's better like that. It's my coping mechanism, or so I've been told, if I don't get close then I don't have to deal with the loss. The loss of not being able to conceive," I paused and whispered, "for some women they make the decision and are happy with it, but for me, it was made for me. And besides, I don't want to ruin that or take that away for anyone." Marc reached for my hand and just held it, looking at my face. I almost burst into tears, but instead, stiffened my back and said, "I've never told anyone this, especially not my family. You know, I don't want them to feel sorry for me, or worry about me. I wanted to have children and a family of my own." I shook my head, choking back tears and said, "Hey, let's not let this ruin our delicious picnic. Change of topic, please Sir?" With that, we enjoyed the food, the rest of the wine and the fine Sunday afternoon weather. Marc lightened the atmosphere by telling me silly kid jokes. It was easy being with him. There is no agenda or expectations, we just enjoy one another. In the late afternoon, he took me home and insisted on walking me to my front door. I thanked him for a perfect Sunday afternoon. I told him that I would be seeing my family for dinner, and he said that he would be doing the same. We spent the next month, meeting for lunch and taking the occasional walk. He was very respectful and didn't push the boundaries in any way. But I felt this electricity between us. Every time I was with him, he made me melt. I wanted him. I imagined him. I wanted another woman's husband and it was so wrong. I knew my heart would be broken one day. He spoke openly about his children and seemed to be a real hands-on father. I started to feel guilt about our growing relationship. He never spoke about his wife and I dared not ask. I was so confused. My vagina was in competition with my head. CHAPTER FIVE About three weeks later, he had to go out of town on business. Europe he said. We kept in contact through texting. One night I drove by his house, just to look at it and secretly wondered if he was really out of town or that was his way of getting rid of me. We were just friends, but I knew we were starting to cross the line because the relationship was becoming more and more intimate. After work, I took the long way home. Driving by I spotted his SUV in the driveway, I could see his beautiful wife in the living room. She was dancing with his little Jennifer. Frozen in my seat, I watched until I couldn't take it any longer. I sped away. That's when I knew, feeling sick to my stomach. I just knew. I had to cut him free. No more lunches, no more fun messages, no more mid-day phone calls, no more walks along the River Walk. I crossed the line. How could I do that? I was in love with this man. Somehow I drove home that night, walked straight to my bed, kicked my shoes off, and with my clothes still on, cried myself to sleep. I did this, and I only had myself to blame. The next week, I deleted his text messages without reading them, along with any emails. Call display showed his work number. I ignored those calls too. Call your wife Marc, not me. I was really missing him. My heart was crushed. I couldn't continue with this kind of relationship or do this to his children or wife. Right from the start I was asking for trouble. And so was he. One night I arrived at my condo after my walk along the River Walk, and he was waiting at my front door. My heart flipped. "Vivian, why have you been ignoring me?" He seemed concerned. "You're married Marc. I can't do this anymore. This dance we have going on. Please just leave me alone." I raised my voice, straightened my back and said, "go home to your family Marc." With that, I turned on my heel and escaped into my condo, the security door closing behind me. I left him standing out there. I did not look back, even when I heard him knocking on the glass. The next week I continued to ignore his calls; I listened to one just to hear his voice and he said we needed to talk. Not with me Marc, not this time. One night, I decided to go back to the park where we had our picnic. I could walk and cry it out. Self-induced therapy. I pulled out of my condo and drove. Another car ride conversation with myself as I confessed. "You knew this would happen Vivian. Congrats, you are the other women. Yup, guess what happens to the other woman? She ends up heartbroken and alone. You're a fuck head Marc." I pulled into a parking spot, relieved there were few cars in the parking lot and ready to walk it off. It was a beautiful June night; I had some time before the sunset to enjoy the gardens. I walked by the pavilion and I heard, "Vivian. Vivian, stop...please, just give me a minute." I whipped around and there he stood. Beautiful, but married. "How did you find me here?" I demanded. He shrugged and said, "I followed you here, sorry. You wouldn't answer my calls, so I waited outside your building. You drove out, so I followed you here. Guess it makes me a bit of a stalker." "Well, I guess we're even," I flippantly stated. "What do you mean?" he asked. I was ready to explode. I was so angry with him and myself and how we got to this point. Raising my voice I blurted out, "I moved back to San Antonio, and I looked you up on Google and found all this information about you. I even drove by your house, before we bumped into each other at my work. That's right, I actually stalked you too. So yeah, I guess that makes us even." I continued as my voice softened, "I am sorry Marc. I'm not going to date a married man. Because you know, that is what we are doing. We are dating. It's not right and not fair to me. And it certainly isn't fair to your wife or children. I can't do this anymore. Go home to your family. Please, just leave me alone." Marc took one step toward me, looked right into my eyes and softly said, "Well, you obviously didn't go far enough when you were stalking me. You'd have found the obituary on page three. My wife passed away three years ago. " I shook my head. I was so confused. He held up his left hand. "Vivian, my wedding band is gone now. I always wore it for the kids. It was a symbol for them, you know. Something of their mother was always visible. I told myself I would only remove if I ever fell in love again." With that, my heart pounded out of my chest. My tears started to flow. We just stood looking into each other. In grade school, I had a notion of what love would be like. I just didn't know it would be with that boy who sat two rows over in math class. Love's notion was far better than hot dogs and a root beer float. Two Years Later... "Shhhhh, are you crazy?" I tried in vain to whisper. Marc smirked as he pulled out a belt from his bottom drawer. "No, I really want to use this on you." We started to giggle; of course he wants to use that on me. Could you pick anything louder? "The kids are still up. They'll hear us. That's way too loud." I pleaded, knowing I was facing a losing battle. He looked so adorable, standing there shirtless in his blue jeans. Marc rolled his eyes in frustration, placed the belt back into the drawer and picked out a crop. "They're two floors away watching that movie you bought them. They won't hear us. Come on Viv. I'm the Dom here. No back-talk." Oh boy, the last few words he lowered his voice and purposely slowed his speech. He stood before me, all manly, expertly holding his weapon of choice. How could I refuse? Yes, the kids would be occupied for at least the next hour. Or so we hoped! I quickly glanced over at the door. It was locked.