5 comments/ 13333 views/ 1 favorites Meeting Hannah Ch. 01 By: peacekeeper25 (Note: This is a two chapter story with both chapters here. I hope you enjoy this adventure across the thin line of reality and fantasy.) * I hadn't been to New York City in over twenty years, and in fact, rarely leave my cabin in Maine for any cities. I shop at a local food co-op in our small town, pick up mail a the post office, sometimes get a bowl of soup or a cup of coffee and exchange greetings with friends and neighbors then head home, happy to drive down the long dirt road through the woods and walk the path up to my quiet life. I had just completed a book of poetry and my brother told me about a group he belongs to at the library that once a month has a guest speaker. Each member arranges an evening and it was his turn. He urged me to come to New York and give a reading. At first I wanted to say no I didn't want to deal with all the hustle and bustle of New York, but didn't respond—thinking about my garden and other reasons I shouldn't go, but then remembered a philosophy of mine to say "yes" when ever possible, unless there is a moral conflict or it's impossible. He said, more insistently, "Come to New York and give the reading, it will be good for you." Finally, the desire to read my new poems and get away from my solitary life for awhile came over me and I said I would come. When I hung up the phone, I couldn't believe what I had agreed to do. So, the sudden opportunity to visit my brother in New York and give a poetry reading brought me this chance to taste a piece of life I had never experienced before or since. Whether it was random or haphazard circumstance, I can't say—that's part of the mystery—but coming to New York and meeting Hannah that afternoon in the cafe around the corner from my brother's apartment took me into a realm of reality, I am still trying to understand. I arrived in New York on a Thursday evening and took the train from the airport, then a subway and a bus to Riverside Drive where my brother lives. I was completely dazzled and overwhelmed by he visual sensations of lights and sounds, of people rushing, advertisements, horns and sirens, department stores filled with shiny merchandise, tall buildings and theaters. In contrast to my little town in Maine, I saw people from so many other cultures, so many shapes, sizes and colors—rushing, carrying packages, briefcases, talking on cell phones, listening to i-pods. I was swept along by the whirl of people on the go. There was so much to see, I didn't know where to look first and felt like I did when I was twelve and went to the circus. The next day, while my brother had several appointments, I took the opportunity to explore the neighborhood and stopped at a little café called the Left Bank for a cup of coffee and a treat. My poetry reading wouldn't be until eight that evening, so I had the whole afternoon to myself. I had my journal where I write my thoughts and feelings everyday. The café was busy with people coming in quickly, getting a coffee to go and hurrying out. Most of the tables were empty. My table was by the window so I could glance outside at people passing. While I was writing, a young woman with long dark curly hair walked in. She had a canvas bag over one shoulder. She put her bag down on a table next to mine and went to the counter to p-lace an order. Standing there, she glanced at the pasteries, looked back at her table and at me. I had stopped writing—my pen paused on the page. Our eyes met briefly but I quickly looked away. I guessed she was in her early thirties and wore a long full wrap-around skirt with a colorful Indian print. It came just below her knees. She wore clogs and a soft textured white peasant-like blouse that revealed her shoulders. She had a small lavender scarf tied lightly at her neck. When she came to her table carrying her coffee, our eyes met again, briefly. I noticed her dark lively eyes, olive skin and wild flowing hair and thought she looked like a gypsy with her large silver dangling earrings. She took a book out of her canvas bag and placed it on the table. She then put the bag on the floor next to her, sat down, crossed her legs and looked around the room, glancing quickly in my direction. Our eyes met then she looked away. She took a sip of her coffee and opened her book. I remember writing in my journal how it felt with this exotic young lady sitting at the table next to me. I enjoy looking at people but rarely am I so captivated by a person as I was with her. Every few minutes, I stopped writing and glanced over at her, watching as she read, her fingers holding her coffee mug but not drinking. I continued writing, struggling to concentrate on what I was describing and not look at her, but there was something about her presence, her contained energy that caused me to glance over at her. She was not pretty in the classic way—she had a narrow, pointed nose, a small mouth but full sensual lips, an angular shaped face, high cheek bones, but I could feel her lively spirit and I was drawn to her in a way I can not explain. I felt there was something mysterious and hidden about her that made her beautiful and drew me to her, like a moth to a light. I am an extremely shy quiet person and it is not in my nature to strike up a conversation with someone I don't know—especially a young woman who must be a least thirty years younger than me. But there I was sitting at my table wanting to burst out of my reserved personality and invite myself to sit with her. She was reading her book with deep concentration, but every time she turned the page, she would look up to glance around the room and our eyes would meet, then she would return to her book and I would return to my writing. In my journal I was describing this scene with me sitting at a table next to this exotic looking young woman, our eyes meeting. When I wrote, "Her dark hair, falling past her shoulder is lovely next to her olive complexion, but it's her large dark eyes that draw me to her. "I have to meet her. I have to meet her." It was the urgency of that last sentence that startled me. I often see a woman that I think looks attractive, but this was different. Why did I write, "I have to meet her?" I put my pen down, reading over what I had written when I heard her voice. I turned and looked at her. Again our eyes met, and she asked, "What are you writing?" At first I wasn't sure how to answer and so I repeated her question, "Oh, ah. What am I writing?" I glanced down at my journal then back at her and somehow found the nerve to say, "I'm writing about you." "You are?" she asked, her eyes widened in surprise. "Why?" "I don't know," I answered, looking at her eyes, noticing the slight smile on her lips. Neither of us spoke, but, in that silence, there was no awkwardness—just curiosity. I took a deep breath and somehow found the boldness to say, "I think you are very beautiful. I wanted to describe you in words." "Thank you," she responded and smiled. "I don't think I'm beautiful, so thank you." Again, there was a silence, but we kept our eyes on each other. She picked up her coffee mug, brought it to her lips, but still she looked at me over the edge of her cup. I did the same thing, took a sip of my coffee, quickly closed my journal,keeping the pen in the book as a marker and looked back at her. "What are you reading?" I asked. "David Mamet," she answered, closing her book. "Do you know his writing?" "Yes," I answered. "I've read a few of his plays. I like his language and how he writes dialogue." "Me, too," she responded. "I love how crisp his dialogue is. It's like poetry—so spare." "Let's pretend we're in a Mamet play," I said, surprising myself with that bold, spontaneous idea, somehow my usual shyness evaporating. "Okay," she said and smiled. "Let's pretend we're in a Mamet play." "Yes, let's," I responded, already entering the stylized manner of his dialogue. "Yes, let's," Hannah said, picking up our game. "Hello," I said, looking at her from my table. "Hello," she said. "You look sad," I said. "I am sad," she said. "Sad—too bad," I said. "Sadness is not what I want for today." "I know," she said. "I know you don't want sadness for today." "You do," I said. "Yes, I do." "What do you think I want for today?" I asked. "You want me to invite you to sit with me but you are too shy to ask." "You're right, I do." She smiled and gestured to the empty seat across from her. I was stunned by her invitation but smiled back, enjoying her dark eyes looking at me and the slight, playful smile on her lips. I picked up my journal and coffee and sat down at her table, our eyes meeting again. "I'm Thom--Thom with an "h." "Hello, Thom with an h." "I'm Hannah with an h." Hello Hannah with an h. I know your name has an h otherwise it would be Annah." "You're right. And if it was a B I'd be Banana." We both laughed. "Are we being silly?" she asked. "Yes, very silly," I said. "But thank you for reading my mind." "This is a new way of meeting someone," she said. I took a sip of my coffee and nodded, "Yes, I guess it is—especially for me. I never do things like this." "Me either," she said. "I'm a very private person. I keep to myself." "I do too," I said. "But I'm surprised about you. Your face is so open. I'd think you would have a busy social life." "I don't really. I like being home—reading, talking to my boyfriend, taking walks along the river. I love going to the library, bookstores and museums." "So you have a boyfriend," I asked. "I do," she said. "That's nice," I said. "Are you happy with him?" "I am. Very. He's wonderful," she said, then asked, "Are you married?" "No, I'm divorced," I said. "Sorry," she said, her eyes and mouth losing their smile and expressing her sadness. "Has that been hard for you?" she asked. "At first, but actually I'm fine with it. We just decided not to be in each other's movie anymore." Hannah nodded. "That's an interesting way of thinking about it." "You're not a New Yorker, are you?" she asked. "No," I answered. "How did you know?" "Easy—no one in this neighborhood looks or dresses like you," she said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You look different—shaggy hair and beard, baggy sweater, a little unkempt--not slick." "Oh, well, I'm from Maine," I said and shrugged my shoulders. "Not that everyone from Maine is shaggy and unkempt," I added. "I like how you look," Hannah said. "You look interesting. "Not like everyone around here. "I like that." "I like how you look, too," I said. "There's something mysterious about you." "Mysterious?" she asked. "You're wrong. I'm not mysterious." "Yes, you are. You have a secret self that no one knows but you." "I do?" she asked, lifting her cup to her lips, her eyes looking at me. When she put her cup down, I could tell she was thinking about what I said about her secret self. She smiled at me, her eyes looking into mine, indicating I had touched something in her and aroused her curiosity. "Tell me about my secret self" she asked after a long silence. "So, do you admit you have a secret self?" I asked. "Maybe," she responded, a slight smile on her lips. I smiled back at her, our eyes probing one another, fascinated by where this conversation was heading. "And you, Thom, do you have a secret life—a fantasy world?" she asked, shifting in her seat, leaning forward, moving her face closer to mine, looking into my eyes, smiling. I noticed her large breasts pressing against the white peasant blouse. I took a sip of my coffee, stunned by her question, uncertain of what to say. I kept my cup to my lips as if I was hiding behind it, but my eyes were on her smile and dark eyes and the glimpse of cleavage as she leaned towards me. When I put my cup down on the table, she moved her face closer to mine. "Let's talk about our secret lives," she whispered, "I'll tell you about mine, if you tell me about yours." "So you admit it," I said, moving my face closer to hers, our eyes looking into each other's eyes. "Yes, you know I do and I know you do," she said, her voice just above a whisper, our faces now inches away from each others. "Are we still in a Mamet play?" I asked. "No," she said. "We're in our own play. We are entering our secret lives." I nodded my agreement and smiled. "I'm enjoying this," she said. "Are you?" "Yes. It's exciting, isn't it?" I asked. "It is," she answered. "Hannah, I think we have the same secret fantasy." "Tell me. Tell me what is," she said. "You want to be fucked by a stranger. Ravished." I couldn't believe I was saying this to her. I never use that word or speak like this. "Hmm, tell me more," she said. "Have you seen Last Tango in Paris?" I asked. "Yes," she answered. "Get the butter." "You want to be in an empty room or in a cheap motel with a stranger." ""It's a cheap motel with a coffee shop," she said, "in the middle of nowhere—neon light outside." "Right. You and I have just met in a coffee shop late at night. You are wearing tight jeans and a tank top, no bra." I paused. "I'm now combining my fantasy with yours." "I know you are. You like tight jeans on young women...don't you? You like to see their ass and the jeans tight on their cunt," she whispered, looking into my eyes, a sly smile on her lips. I couldn't believe her language—how she was talking to me, as if her secret self had taken over and merged with mine. "Yes, tight jeans turn me on," I whispered—my secret self emerging. "It's late and there's no one in the coffee shop but me and you," she says. "Right. I just came in for a cup of coffee. You're at the counter and look up at me when I enter. Your eyes move up and down my body. Our eyes meet and you smile. I sit next to you and order a coffee." "So, stranger, where are you from?" you ask. "Nowhere. I'm just on the road going from here to there," I answered. "Gotta name?" you ask. "No," I answer. Good, Me either," you say. You swivel on your stool and face me. Your legs are spread apart. Your knees touch my thigh. You lean forward and I can see your tits under you low cut tank top. You notice me looking at your tits and smile at me. "What are you looking at, stranger?" "You know damn well what I'm looking at," I say, smiling at you. "Do you like what you see?" you ask. "Yes," I say. "I want to lick your nipples." "Hmmmmm—sounds good," you say, your hand touching my thigh, squeezing it. Our eyes meet and then I look down at your crotch as you spread your legs wider. "What else do you want, stranger?" "What do you want me to do to you?" I answer. "You slowly move your hand up my leg towards my crotch and say, "I'm horny. I want you to fuck me. I have a room here. Care to share it with me for the night." "Yes," I say. "Lead the way." We get up to go. I throw some money on the counter and follow you, loving your round ass in those tight jeans. You turn around and look at me. "Follow me, stranger," you say as we walk to your motel room. Just then Hannah sat back in her chair and looked at me. She had that sly smile and then she really surprised me. "You're getting me wet, Thom." "Good," I said. "We've entered each other's secret life, haven't we?" "Yes," she said, biting her lower lip. "I'm hot." "Me, too," I said. "I've never talked to anyone like this before," she said. "Me either," I said. "Let's get out of here. I know a cheap hotel nearby," Hannah said. "Are you serious?" I asked. ""Very," Hannah answered. "What about your boyfriend?" I asked. "He doesn't have a clue about my secret life," she said. "He doesn't know about my fantasies and all the toys I play with when he's not around or this sex internet site I'm on and my secret cyber lovers that fuck me when he's at work or out," she said, standing up. "Let's get out of here." We left the cafe and walked swiftly. Her large canvas bag was hanging from one shoulder and I noticed several books in it. "The hotel is about two blocks from here," she said. While we were walking, Hannah's words about her secret life baffled and intrigued me. How could she separate one reality from her reality with her boyfriend? How could her secret life not be part of her actual life? "How do you know about this hotel?" I ask. "I just do," she said, smiling. "It's one of those places you can rent a room by the hour. It's for people like us, secret lovers." "Have you been there before?" I asked. "No, but I have wanted to go by myself. They have porn movies on the TV and I thought about going there and living one of my fantasies." "So you've never really been there before," I said. "No, this is the first time," she said, smiling up at me, her long dark gypsy-like hair flowing in the breeze as walked swiftly down the crowded street, weaving our way past people. Finally, we were standing in front of a narrow building with a small green sign over the door that said, "Concord Hotel." "Interesting name," I said. "Yes, it's perfect for what this place is," she said—a smile on her lips—"harmony and agreement." She then stepped closer to me, her tits just touching my chest. "Rent us a room, Mister," she said, looking seductively into my eyes. I felt her heat and my cock was getting hard. I went up to the desk and asked for a room while Hannah waited by the elevator. I glanced over at her smiling at me. I rented the room for two hours. In the elevator, she stood next to me. We didn't speak as the elevator went past the second and third floor, but I knew we were both thinking about the secret world we were entering, wondering where this meeting would end. At the fourth floor, she leaned into me and said, "So Mister, what are you going to do to me?" "You'll find out," I said and put my hand on her ass and rubbed it, feeling the crack as my hand moved from one cheek to the other, giving her ass a slight squeeze. "Hmmmmm, that feels good, Mister," she said in a low voice as we reached the fifth floor. "This is our stop," I said. We got off and she followed me down the hall to our room. I opened the door and let her walk in ahead of me. I closed the door. Hannah put her canvas bag down then walked around looking at everything—the small bureau, an open closet with hangers, the TV, the bathroom. The curtains were open, letting sunlight in. Hannah closed the curtains then turned on a lamp. "I want to shut out the world but I like a light on when we make love. I want to see your face." She then sat on the bed and looked up at me. "Okay, Thom, this is the deal," she said, spreading her legs. "We're going to do everything but not actually fuck. We're going to get hot and masturbate with each other. That's as close to real fucking as we're going to get. Do you understand?" "Yes," I said. "This is fantasy land. You want me to be in your secret world where we fuck but don't really fuck so you feel you are not cheating on your boyfriend." "Yes, this room is like a room in cyber space—it's not real but feels real-- do you know what I mean?" "I do, Hannah, but it's a thin line and we might lose control and cross over from one reality into the other," I said. "I know it's dangerous but we won't cross over," she said. "I won't let that happen. I'm always in control," she said. "Always!" "And you think what we're doing is not cheating on your boyfriend," I said. "I'm not sure. I know it's dangerous and on the edge, but this is what I want and need. I know it sounds confusing. And you think I'm crazy and maybe I am, but I want to be here with you. I want us to fuck each other with our hands. Can you handle that?" "I don't know, Hannah. I can try but might get so hot I just take you. This is dangerous territory we're in," I said. Meeting Hannah Ch. 01 "But it's exciting isn't it—being n the edge of reality, in this dangerous space. It's scary but it turns me on. I love it," she said. Hannah got up and came over and stood close to me, our bodies barely touching. "Come with me, play with me-- make me your lover. Fuck me." She then walked in back of me and leaned against me. I felt her tits on my back as she reached around and placed her hands on my crotch, grabbing my balls through my jeans. My cock was already hard and she moved her hand from my balls to my hard cock and started rubbing it through my jeans. "Hmmmmm. What a big cock you have," she whispered. "I want this baby. I want you to fuck me hard." I could not believe how Hannah had changed as she moved her hand up and down my hard cock and how she was talking to me. It was as if she become her secret self. I didn't say a word but closed my eyes enjoying her hands getting my cock harder than it had ever been, letting her take the lead. "I want this cock in my hot wet pussy," she said. "I want hot, raunchy, dirty fucking, Mister. You want that too, don't you?" "Yes," I said. "I want to fuck you. I want my cock in your tight pussy." "That's it, Mister, talk dirty to me. I want you to ravish me. I want you to take me." Just then Hannah unbuttoned my jeans, lowered the zipper and saw I didn't wear underwear. She took my hard cock in her hand and said, "Hmmmmm, I like a man ready for action. Damn, you're so big and hard." Hannah's hand on my hard cock was driving me crazy. Just then I turned around facing her, my cock and balls outside my jeans. I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me. My cock was standing straight up. I held her ass and was grinding my cock against her mound. She gasped and said, "Oh yes" and arched her back as she started sliding her panty soaked pussy lips up and down the length of my cock. "Oh you feel sooooo good," she moaned. I could smell her arousal. She then pushed me away and stepped back. We were both breathing heavily. "This is getting too real," she gasped, her face flushed, her mouth open. She stood facing me, our eyes looking into each other's eyes. She then walked to the bed, turned, reached under her skirt and took her panties off. "Time for scene two," she said. She sat on the edge of the bed, lifted her skirt high on her thighs, revealing her cunt and spread her legs. "Masturbate with me. Stand between my legs and we can with each other and pretend we're fucking." "Just a minute," I said and went into the bathroom, grabbed the little plastic container of shampoo and squirted it onto my right hand. In a flash I was back between her open legs, looking down at her wet pussy. My cock was standing straight out just over her. She then stopped licking her nipple and looked at my cock as I hovered over her. She then put her hand on her cunt and looked up at me. "Jerk off for me, baby while I fuck myself with my fingers." "I'll play your game," I said, my jeans dropping to the floor. I stepped out of them and spread my legs so that they were touching her spread legs. I looked down at her open pussy and then into her eyes looking up at me. "Fuck me," she said, looking at my cock. She put two fingers in her pussy while I grasped my soapy hand on my cock. I looked at her fingers going in and out of her wet pussy and she watched my hand moving up and down my hard cock. I squeezed my hand as tight as I could around my cock pretending it was her tight pussy, "Oh god you're so tight. I love your tight pussy." "Oh, god, your cock is so big," she said. "I can barely get my cock in you, you're so tight," I said, squeezing my hand tighter around my cock. "Come on baby, harder, fuck me harder," she yelled, her fingers going in and out. "Oh my god, you're splitting me apart with your big cock." "Take it baby. Open up for me," I yelled, pumping my cock through my tight grasp. I leaned forward so that my cock was just above her cunt. "Open up, so I can really fuck you." Her fingers were going faster and faster and she was twisting her nipples with her other hand, her eyes fixed on my cock, her mouth wide open. "Oh fuck me, Thom. Fuck me Thom. Harder! Harder!" she yelled as she placed a third finger in her pussy, moving her hand faster and faster. My hand was going faster and faster through my clenched fist. "Oh god, you're so tight. I love your tight pussy." She then brought her other hand from her tit and placed it on top of her other hand. I could tell she pressed her thumb against her clit because she shuddered and rose off the bed. "Oh, yes. That feels so good. Fuck me harder. I'm cumming. Oh god I'm cummmmmming. I'm cummmmmmming." I was getting close too and looked down at her hands as I moved my hand faster and faster. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me," I yelled as I looked down at my hands and then at her hands. Our hands were fixed hard on what we were doing. I was so hot and it was all I cold do not to push away her hands and thrust my cock into her. I wanted to fuck her for real. "I want to fuck you for real," I said. "No keep doing it this way. Please. I love this," she yelled. I want that too but we can't." Our eyes were intense as we looked at each other. "Ohhhhhhhmygod, I'm cummmming," she screamed. "I'm cumming ohhhhhhhhhh yes. Keep fucking me harder harder." She lifted herself off the bed, her fingers going in and out. "I'm cumming. Ohhhhhhhgod I'm cummmmming again. FUCK ME! FUCK ME!" My legs were touching her legs, spreading her wider. My hand was pumping away and my balls were hanging and swaying back and forth between my spread legs. I felt myself getting closer to exploding. Hannah's eyes were on my cock as she screamed, "Oh, yes. I'm cummmmmmmmmmming again. This is so hot. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFUCK!" and she fell back down on the bed, panting. Just then I felt my sperm rising through me and I knew I was about to explode all over her, as I pumped and shouted, "I'm cummming, Oh yes, Fuck me baby Fuck me. I'm there. I'm cummmmmmming. FUCK ME! FUCK ME! HANNAH! FUCK ME! and yelled as I pumped my cock harder and harder. FUCK ME! YES OH YES FUCK ME! and suddenly I exploded, spurting hot cum all over her thighs. She then reached down with her hands and took my cum and spread it all over he tits, rubbing them and moaning, "Oh I love this, mmmmmmmmmmm." I then collapsed on the bed next to her, lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, Thom that was so amazing." "It was," I said, "considering we didn't really fuck." "It still felt good, didn't it?" she said, looking over at me next to her. "Yes, very intense. You're something else, Hannah." I said, wondering whether we should be using our real names here. Suddenly, Hannah sat up and said, "Oh, I've got to go. I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend at 5." "No, I don't want this to end," I said. "I know. This is hard, isn't it?" she said. "Very hard," I said. "How can you go from here to your boy friend?" "I don't know. I can't explain it," she said, standing up and putting on her panties. She went to the mirror and straightened her hair. "Hannah, I can't let you go," I said. "Thom, I love being with you, but don't make this more than it is." "I don't understand." "This is play. It's not real. It exists in our minds, our imaginations and no where else." "No this room is real, Hannah," I said. "We're here in this room. It might be a room we've paid for and don't live in, but it's real. I'm real and you're real and what we just did was real." "I have to go," she said. "Hannah! Come to the reading tonight. I want you there." "What time is it?" she asked. "Eight. At the main library," I said. "I can't promise." Hannah was at the door and I was still lying on the bed with my pants at my feet. "Bye, dear," she said and blew me a kiss. I just watched as she opened the door, waved goodbye and left. I stared at the door, unable to believe what happened in the last hour or so. I stood up, put on my jeans and stood in front of the mirror over the bureau, looking at myself, my shaggy hair and beard, my baggy sweater. I leaned forward and looked at my eyes looking back at me, shook my head and heaved a huge sigh, still unable to believe what was happening to my quiet life. I walked over to the window and opened the curtain and looked out at the city. My reading was in three hours and as I left the hotel room, glancing back at the bed, I wondered whether I would ever see Hannah again. CHAPTER TWO I had agreed to meet my brother for a light dinner at Jewish deli near the library. I told him I had a craving for a big hot pastrami sandwich on real sour dough rye bread, something impossible to get in Maine. I had my poems with me and was glancing over them, arranging them in the order I would read. When my brother arrived and sat down, he asked me how my afternoon was. For some reason, I still don't understand, I decided not to tell him about Hannah, though there was a moment when I was bursting to tell him about the amazing experience I had just an hour ago. I told him I had a quiet afternoon, walking around and had coffee at a nice cafe called The Left Bank. I told him I wrote in my journal—nothing more. I wanted to keep Hannah to myself. I wanted to savor the reality she and I had shared and keep it a secret, as if putting it into words would tarnish it. I also knew that it was something Hannah would never talk about to anyone—her secret world. I guess I just wanted to keep our relationship secret too, something no one else knew, something only she and I shared. While we were eating, my brother told me about his meetings and the project he was working on and though I listened, Hannah kept coming into my mind. I pictured her having dinner with her boyfriend, talking to him just as I was talking to my brother, but hidden inside of her, I was there—her secret lover. After enjoying my delicious hot pastrami sandwich, my brother told me a little about the group I would be reading to, how he has known these people for years and they've been having these events at the library for long time. I told him how rare it is for me to ever go anywhere and how much I enjoy my quiet life. I told him about my philosophy to say "yes" when opportunities present themselves—as if they are God-sent. I also told him how I never have expectations and because of that, I am never disappointed and often I am surprised and delighted. It makes life an adventure—not having expectations, but my afternoon with Hannah was beyond any expectation I could possibly have. Finally, it was time for the reading and we walked a block from the deli to the library. When we entered the room, my brother introduced me to some of his friends. There were about forty chairs lined up in rows and a small lectern at the front. The walls were covered with paintings and photographs. People were dressed in a variety of clothes—some men with suits and ties and others with slacks and casual shirts. The women too were either dressed smartly or in slacks and blouses or sweaters. I, of course, noticeably looked different—but didn't care. I don't even own clothes that would make me fit in—I was here to read poetry and not put on a costume that I wouldn't feel comfortable in. I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was about time to begin the reading. I had hoped Hannah would show up, but she hadn't. I was resigned to the fact that what happened that afternoon was a once in a life-time experience and that was it—nothing more. I waited in a chair at the front of the room to be introduced by my brother. I looked around the room as people sat and chatted with each other. I looked over at the door at the back of the room then up at the clock. I thumbed through my folder of poems, feeling a little tense but excited to have this opportunity. My brother went to the front of the room, thanked everyone for coming and began to introduce me by mentioning I live in a solar powered cabin in the woods of Maine and rarely leave home. People applauded as I walked up to the lectern and I nodded my appreciation and told them about this series of poems I have been working on based on a Greek myth. Just as I was to begin, Hannah entered the room and stood against the back wall. My heart leaped when I saw her. All of the seats were taken. Our eyes met and she smiled, lifted hand slightly and bent her fingers with that small gesture of a greeting. I was stunned that she came, but happy. Unlike many poets who are not very good readers, I pay a lot of attention to how I present each poem. I try to give a sense of the setting, where I was and where the poem was coming from. I become an actor and actually perform the poem. I was going to read for forty-five minutes and then answer questions for fifteen minutes, if there were any. Poetry can be very intense and I as careful not to wear people out. I thought of the old show business adage—"always leave them wanting more." Finally, I came to the last poem I was going to read and said this is dedicated to a very special person. I described it as an existential love poem about illusion and reality and how we each create our own reality. Before I read it, I looked at Hannah and our eyes met. I smiled and she smiled back, but no one in the room knew I was reading this poem to her. I said the title of the poem, "Choosing an Illusion." Here is the poem I read— Choosing an illusion doesn't make my life less real. And if I care to sing Instead of crawling on my hands and knees holding up a bleeding heart, the sunrise still will sparkle on the lake and through the trees. Morning has no pity as it marches through the sky. The choice is ours to shrink behind a rock, complaining until we die, or to let the imagination wink and look the passing heavens in the eye. Noon comes fast and bright and shadows disappear at this hot hour. What mist was on the lake at dawn, will surely come again at dark— and so I dream: The sun that shines now on your lovely face will rise tomorrow from my lyric heart. When I finished reading and people applauded, I looked at Hannah at the back of the room. Our eyes met and she placed her hand on her heart and smiled at me. No one else had any idea of what was happening between us and for a brief flash of a minute, no one else existed but the two of us—we had briefly slipped back into our little world, kissed and left to return to the reality of the poetry reading. People mingled. A few came up to me and said how much they enjoyed the reading and thanked me for coming all the way from Maine. Hannah did not move from the back of the room and was observing the whole scene. I glanced up at her as I responded to the comments of several people surrounding me. Just then Hannah came up to where I was standing and handed me a small piece of paper, smiled at me and left the room without a word. While a woman with white hair and glasses that hung from a thin band around her neck spoke to me, I opened the up the folded piece of paper and saw—"meet me in our room at 10." I glanced up at the clock and saw it was 9:15. I knew the Concord Hotel was about five blocks from the library. Finally, people cleared out and it was just my brother and I left. When my brother said we should get home, I had to think of something to say so I could meet Hannah and not reveal anything. I told him I didn't want to come home yet. I wanted to walk around by myself and think. I said after a reading I need to be alone and would he leave a key with the doorman in front of the apartment house. My brother gave me a surprised look but thankfully asked no questions and said, "Sure, no problem." Once outside, I said goodbye to my brother and we walked in opposite directions. I walked briskly in the direction of the concord Hotel, thinking about Hannah standing in the back of the room and how exciting and romantic it was to be handed that note to meet her in "our room." I was thinking—things like this don't happen in real life. They happen in movies and in books. In fact, this whole situation seemed like a situation out of a French movie like "Last Tango in Paris" and not part of the life a guy like me who lives in the Maine woods. And yet, here I was walking to a rendezvous with this exotic woman waiting for me in a hotel room. Taking the elevator up to the fifth floor I thought about her wanting us to only masturbate with each other and pretend we were making love and whether this would still be the rule. These were her boundaries, her need to separate our relationship from her relationship with her boyfriend. I didn't know whether I would be able to honor that rule or not but if that was what she wanted, I would try. I have to admit I was baffled by the idea that if we weren't actually fucking, she wasn't really cheating. I reached the room, knocked, turned the knob and entered but didn't see Hannah. I heard water running in the bathroom. The water stopped and Hannah came out of the bathroom wearing a short, sheer white nightgown that revealed her olive skinned legs. It hung from her shoulders by thin material and barely covered her breasts it was cut so low. l I could see her cleavage and nipples through the thin material. She came over to me without a word, looking at my eyes and had that subtle, sensual smile on her lips. She put her arms around my neck, her breasts pressed against my chest and looked at me. "You were wonderful tonight. I loved your reading, she said. "Thank you for coming, I was hoping you would," I said. "Boyfriend had a meeting tonight. I told him I was going to the library to a poetry reading and that I was meeting a friend later and not to wait up for me," she said. "I never lie," she added, smiling at me. "And you don't cheat," I said. "Let's not talk about that," she said. "Okay, my dear, we're in our own world now—our own reality," I said. "Right," she said. "Here we enter our secret lives, our fantasies, as if nothing else exists." She started unbuttoning my jeans, her eyes looking into mine. I took off my sweater and threw it on the chair next to e bureau. "You look sexy," I said. "I want to turn you on," she said, pulling my zipper down. 'You already have," I said. "Hmmm, let me see," she said, reaching in and touching my cock. "Oh, my, did I do that?" she said. "Yes," "Oh, am I naughty?" she asked. "You are very naughty," I answered. "Oh and are you going to punish me for being naughty?" she asked. "Please don't. I promise I'll be good." "It's too late, you've already been naughty and you know what happens to bad girls, don't you?" "No, tell me." she said. "Tell me what happens to naughty girls," she said, looking into my eyes. She still had her hand on my cock. Then she dropped it and turned her back to me. She then bent over, her short nightgown rising revealing her ass to me. She then moved back and wiggled her ass, pressing it against my cock. As she wiggled, my cock was pressed against the crack of her ass. She glanced back at me over her shoulder. "Come on Thom, tell me what you are going to do to your naughty girl" With my cock pressed hard against her ass, my jeans dropped to the floor and I stepped out of them. My hands were on her hips as she wiggled her ass against me and smiled at me, "You like me being naughty, don't you, Thom? You want to fuck your naughty girl, don't you?" My cock was standing straight up and as Hannah pressed her ass against it, she moved it up and down, getting my cock between her crack--driving me crazy as she teased me with her luscious ass "So, Thom, are you going to punish me or fuck me for being naughty?" she asked in a soft voice, as she wiggled her ass against my heard cock. Meeting Hannah Ch. 01 "I'm going to fuck you," I said. "You think so," she said. "You think I'm going to let you fuck me," she said. "Remember, Thom, I'm the one who's always in control." I couldn't believe how she was playing with my mind, teasing me and taking charge—one minute being the submissive naughty girl and the next minute tantalizing me with her seductive game. She then went to the bed and crawled up to the head, revealing her ass as she moved cat-like and then turned and sat up facing me, leaning against the head board. She sat up with her feet flat against the mattress-- her legs bent and wide open, exposing her pussy to me. She smiled at me, her eyes on my eyes looking at her cunt, knowing she was seducing me. "You really want to fuck your naughty girl, don't you?" she said, opening her legs wider, then closing them and opening them again. "I'm making your horny, aren't I, Thom?" She then started rubbing her pussy with her hand. "You want to put that big hard cock in me, don't you Thom?" "Yes," I said. "You know I do." "But you can't. You know the rules. We just masturbate for each other. Remember!" "I remember the rules, but I don't know if I can play by those rules," I said. "Yes, you can," she said. I moved to the bed and was on my knees at the far end, looking at her eyes and at her open pussy. "This is dangerous territory," I said. "I know it is," she said. "But this is the reality we're in. No real fucking—just our hands and our imagination." I looked into her eyes and moved up the bed, kneeling between her open legs, my cock standing straight out over her pussy. "I'm so wet, Thom," she said, looking at my cock. The then placed her hand on her pussy and then took my cock and wiped her juices on it. "Use my pussy juice to jerk off," she said, as she moved her hand up and down my cock. "Hmmmmmmm. I love how hard you are," she said, coating my cock with her wetness. I looked down at her open pussy as she moved her hands on my cock. Suddenly, I knew I wanted to eat her, to lick her pussy. "I want to eat you," I said. "No you can't. No more touching. No tongues," she said. I ignored her and moved my face between her legs and started licking her pussy. "No, Thom, don't do this. Don't!" She started to push my head away as my tongue licked her pussy. "Oh, no, Thom. No! Stop!" she yelled, pushing hard against my head. But my insistent tongue kept probing her open pussy as she tried pushing my head away but couldn't. I continued to press my tongue against her pussy, my nose now pressed against her clit. Suddenly, instead of pushing me away, she grabbed my hair and was pulling my head into her pussy and screaming. "Oh yesssss. Eat me! Do it. do it!" I was darting my tongue in and out of her pussy and she lifted her pelvis off the bed, pressing her wet pussy harder against my mouth. "Oh yes, eat me, this is so good, yes, yes," she screamed, holding my head harder against her pussy. I then placed two fingers in her pussy and began sucking her exposed clit. She rose off the bed, her whole body shuddering as a huge orgasm swept over her. "Ohhhhhhhhhhgod, I'm cummmmming. I don't believe it. Ohhhhhhhhhgod. I'm cummmmmming, cummmmmmmmmming Ohhhhhh!" and she collapsed on the bed. She was panting and then looked up at me hovering over her. "Well, I guess we crossed the Rubicon," she said, smiling. "That was so hot," she added. "Yes, but we're still in our own world," I said, "our own reality." "I went farther than I wanted to," she said. "No, you didn't," I said. "You went where you needed to go, not where you wanted to, there's a difference." "You took me where I needed to go," she said. "No I didn't—you went where you needed to go," I said. "Am I cheating on my boyfriend?" she asked. "I don't know," I answered. "You are in your secret self—your own reality—a place that belongs only to you and not to anyone else. " "It's confusing," she said. "but it felt good to let go." "Hannah, you don't belong to anyone. Your reality is yours, not your boyfriends, not anyone's and if you need to explore your own sexual world, don't holdback. Your body and your spirit belong only to you." "I'm still horny," she said. "I'm insatiable," she added. "I want you to fuck me." I was kneeling between her knees, my cock still hard. She looked at it. "I want you!" I moved forward and started moving my cock up and down her pussy lips, teasing her. 'Hmmmmm that feels sooooo good," she murmured, lying back against the head board, her arms above her head, holding the top of the headboard. I moved my cock slowly up and down her pussy lips, our eyes locked on each other. Hannah bit her lower lip, savoring the sensation of my cock playing with her. She put her hand on my cock and lifted her body up to it. "Don't tease me, Thom. Fuck me hard. I was determined to drive her crazy, to take her to the edge of sanity and then fuck her in a way she would never forget. "Oh, Thom, please don't tease me. Please, just fuck me. I can't stand this, just do it!" I looked down at her hungry face, her eyes half closed, my cock playing with her pussy like the strings of a violin, bringing her to the edge of breaking. "Oh, Thom, don't do this to me, don't tease me. I need you to fuck me. Please, Thom fuck me, now. I need your cock in me. Oh Thom, you're driving me crazy!" She had her arms around my neck, her legs wrapped around my waist, her ankles hard against my ass as she tried to pull me into her, pleading, "Oh, damn you! Fuck me, give it to me. Ohhhhhh Thom, I can't stand it anymore." Her head was thrashing from side to side, as she whimpered, pleaded, "Ohhhhhhh Thom I need it. Fuck me!" I was driving myself crazy too and didn't think I could last much longer. Her strong insistent legs were pulling me into her and finally, I thrust into her tight wet pussy as hard as I could, going all the way to her cervix, her tight pussy gripping my cock as I rammed into her. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHGOD!" she screamed as I slammed into her and pulled out and slammed into her again, harder. OHHHHHHHHHH!YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!" She yelled out and I hoped no one could hear her in the other rooms. I pulled out again and rammed my cock into her harder. I lifted her by the ass and held her off the bed, my cock pounding into her again and again. As I thrust, I pulled her against me so that my hard cock was ramming into her hot tight pussy over and over---ram, ram, ram, ram. She unlocked her legs from around my back and spread them w ide apart, so that her pussy was wide open to me. Her arms too were spread to the side. Hannah was completely open to me. Hannah's mouth was wide open, her head was thrashing from side to side, her dark curly hair moving wildly as she moved her head, screaming out at me, OHHHHHHYES FUCK ME. I'M THERE. I'M CUMMMING OHHHHHHH YES!FUCK ME FUCK ME!OH YES I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMING...AHHHHHHHHHH!" At the same time, I felt my balls tighten and felt I was on the verge of exploding as I felt that tingling sensation rise up my legs and the sperm fill me cock. I was going in and out of her tight wet pussy faster and harder when suddenly my cock erupted and I shouted, "OH OH OH YES FUCK ME HANNAH, FUCKME I'M CUMMMING OH OH I'M CUMMMMMMMMING!" "CUM IN ME, THOM, OH I WANT IT! I WANT IT ALL! I WANT YOU TO FILL ME WITH YOUR CUM! OH CUM IN ME!" she shouted, as my cock went in and out of her, harder and harder. "I'M CUMMMING!" I shouted as spurt after spurt shot out of me and went in and out of me and into her pussy, OHHHHH! OHHH" I yelled as I felt the complete release and then collapsed on top of her panting body, my cock still in her. We couldn't speak as we both tried to catch our breath. I had never fucked anyone so hard in all my life. We both lay there, unable to move. When I rolled off of her, I lay on my back and looked up at the ceiling, still trying to make sense out of what just happened. I then turned on my side, facing her and she did the same and we embraced, holding each other close. Neither of us wanted to speak. Finally, Hannah got up on one elbows and looked down at me. I smiled up at her and loved the way her eyes crinkled as she smiled down at me. "I'm glad you came in to my life today." she said. "I'm glad we met, too," "I want you to know I love my boyfriend very much," she said. "And I would never want to hurt him." "I know," I said. "But you have a secret life. There's a whole part of you that he knows nothing about and you have a right to keep it to yourself, or you can tell him about it, but whatever you do, don't feel guilty for who you are." "This is hard for me. I understand what you mean, but it's hard. I don't want to lose him and I don't want to give up this side of me that I enjoy." "Life is a risk, Hannah," I said. "You have to take the chance of sharing this part of who you are with him, or keeping it secret—there is no right or wrong." "I know," she said, looking at me --"Choosing an illusion doesn't make my life less real." "It's all an illusion," I said, reaching up and moving the hair out of her eyes. "And we are our own reality." "You're amazing," she said. "So are you," I responded. We were quiet in the elevator, glancing at each other as the light above the door flashed the numbers 3, 2, 1 and the bell chimed just as the door opened into the small lobby. Outside, on the street, she took my hand, then stood up on her toes and kissed me on the lips. I kissed her back. We didn't say a word. She then turned and started walking down the street, her canvas bag over her shoulder. I walked away in the opposite direction. After a few minutes, we both turned and she waved goodbye to me and I waved goodbye to her, both knowing we had experienced something rare as we went back to our own lives.