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Remembering

By: ElWapo



As look back and try to remember the good times in my life I have think about of the time I spent with my girlfriend Linda. I call her my girlfriend but she really wasn’t. She was somebody I knew from work. There was a time in my life when I had become very depressed. Linda happen to realize my plight and helped me out. Linda took me to bed and fucked the hell out of me she was also my first experience with a black woman. And to tell the truth it helped my married life. We soon became very good friends. Maybe a little to good of friends. The first experience was never mentioned.

We used to meet after work for a drink or just to talk. At first that was just what it was nothing more going on between us. But somehow that changed. I don’t exactly know how it happened but we became lovers. She had a boyfriend and I was married. But we still became lovers. We could blame it on our drinking or our just having fun together. But somehow, someway the inevitable happen. 

One day while we were on one of our outings we kind of got a close and I kissed her in a joking way. Only Linda returned the kiss but with more feeling. Her tongue entered my mouth and met my teeth and tongue. When she did that I didn’t pull back but met her embrace with equal vigor. As she held my shoulders my hands went to her waist then to her ass. They came to rest on the round part. She didn’t move away, she stepped closer. Our kisses now were hard and deep. As we kissed we both felt that maybe we should go farther with this relationship. Linda came with me to my car where we kissed and fondle each some more. Together we decided to find a place where we could be more intimate. That place, happen to be a run down motel on the poor side of town.

As we entered the motel room I looked up to see mirrors on the ceiling. They looked old but you could still see yourself in them. They were over the bed and when you looked up you could see yourself and your partner. We embraced and started to remove each other’s clothes. I struggled with her blouse but she had no problem with my shirt. As I pulled her blouse off I was surprised to see she had no bra on. Her breasts were round and full with two very pronounce nipples on them. I bent to take them in my mouth, when I did that she told me that she was able to have an orgasm just by having her nipples played with. That made me suck and nibble on them even more. I could feel them get hard in my mouth and could hear her moaning. I undid her jeans and let them loose, hoping they would fall free. They didn’t, they fit her very tight and I had to pull them off her. I did this while she lay on the bed. As I pulled them off I noted see wasn’t wearing any underwear either. This pleased me to no end. I was kneeling next to the bed so her pussy was only a few inches away from my face. I moved forward and started to give her head. My mouth kissed her outer lips and my tongue started to enter her pussy. My tongue moved inside of her and moved in small circles. I used my fingers to spread her lips apart and lick her all around. I tilted my head up and found her clit easily. It was sticking out in clear reach of my mouth and tongue. I circled it and sucked and gently bit it, to which she let out a louder moan. Her hips were moving and wiggling, this must have been giving her great pleasure. I could hear her mumbling to herself. I may not be a great lover but I know I can give good head.

She motioned for me to get on the bed. I did so and she got on top of me. She kissed me all over she even sucked and bit my nipples. I pulled her up to where she straddled my face and continued to give her head. With her hands she grabbed the headboard. Her legs were on either side of my head and she was bouncing up and down on my face. It must have made a weird site. It only took a few minutes and she started to cum. When she did she came in great convulsions withering and tossing her head back.

After her orgasm subsided she slid down and fell in between my legs. Her head bent down and took my semi-erect penis in her mouth. After a few seconds I became fully erect. I am not overly endowed so she was able to take me in all the way where her nose touched my pubic hair. She then started to go up and down on my member. I was now getting a blowjob to end all blowjobs. With her hands she was stroking my member while her mouth moved up and down. She also cupped my balls and massaged them. This was exciting me greatly. When in an after thought I looked up to see her head bopping up and down in the mirrors above the bed. This view of her was a thrill in it’s self. She was licking and sucking, her mouth going down and sucking my balls too, all the time stroking my member. I had never had been pleasured like this before. I knew I was going to cum and she knew it too. She quickly pulled a towel out and was able to catch most of the cum before it hit her in the face. With the towel she wiped her hands and my member clean.

As Linda finished she moved up next to me and gently kissed me. We lay there together in each other’s arms. Just resting from our mutual experience. After a few minuets she started to stoke my penis again. This being so soon, I did not think anything would happen. But I felt a stir in my loins and soon she had me hard once again. With that, she laid back and I prepared to enter her. I slowly pushed my penis into her waiting pussy. When I did, she seemed able to grip my dick with her pussy! I never felt anything like that before. I do remember in childbirth classes the instructor telling the women that there was an exercise that would teach them to do just that. Now I know she didn’t have any children but she sure could grip my dick. 

I began to thrust in and out, with each forward thrush she griped me tighter. She began to moan this was not an ordinary moan. It was building into a crescendo, low at first but getting loader with each thrush. After a while of pumping her she started to cum with a very load groan and almost a scream. I know women can have multiple orgasms and I think she was about to have one. I was not ready to cum yet so I continued to pump her until I did. All this time she continued to moan and groan. When I finally came it was a mutual experience. Together we both let out groans and sounds that surely could be heard outside of the room. 

When I finished I collapsed next to her and let out a sign of relief. It was then I realized that there was no way I could stop seeing Linda. I knew she had a boyfriend and she knew I was married. But that didn’t matter, She agreed with me to try to make this a weekly ritual. And if not weekly we agree to meet when we could. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Remembering



I'm remembering.

My dark brown eyes are lightly closed. I'm standing in the shower with one leg up. My right foot is on top of the edge of the claw foot tub. Warm, almost hot, water is striking my neck and streaming down my back, cascading off my used to be firm butt and thighs and then swirling, the water disappears down the drain. My soapy right hand is slowly stroking my hard dick as I recall that week-end years ago when I had my first voyeur/exhibitionist experience.

I'm smiling. My prick is throbbing. I wondering, "do I have the nerve to do it again?"

"Aahh, yeah," I groan as I throw ropes of cum against the pale green ceramic wall tiles.

I can remember that week-end so very clearly. It was the first Thanksgiving my wife, Rhonda, and I spent at her parents' house. We had been married about two years. I arrived unhappy, horny and thoroughly frustrated. Six months before, my wife had gone on the pill after her previous method of birth control, the Sponge, had been pulled from the market. The birth control pills with all their hormones had her all screwed up. Worse of all; she had lost all interest in sex. I was lucky to get some once a month. That was not cutting it for this then 23 year old male.

If the pill had just been for contraception purposes, I could have convinced my wife to switch to condoms and spermicides. However, she was also having female problems and the pill was supposed to alleviate those issues as well. 

Being the self-centered, unsympathetic pig that I was, I wasn't thinking a bit about her well being.  I was contemplating divorce and wondering could I keep my Trans Am. I couldn't imagine a life devoid of regular doses of sex. Hey, what did you expect! I'm a guy. 

I began contemplating something else when we arrived at her parents' house and I saw that her 18 year sister, Beth, had blossomed. She wasn't the same flat-chested, tomboy who had been the maid of honor at our wedding. She had tits; even bigger ones than her older sister.

Beth had blue eyes like her older sister. While Rhonda's eyes were dark and flinty, Beth's were like pools of cool water. Beth had hair as black as midnight which she wore straight; it hung down to the middle of her back in typically high school fashion. Rhonda's dark brown hair had a more sophisticated, career woman's styling. It was bobbed and permed. Beth had a teenager's lean body: a wasp waist and slim boyish hips.  You know how some girls seem to have breasts too big for their frame? That described Beth perfectly. Her 34C boobs filled her slight frame completely.  Rhonda had a more rounded, womanly figure, the classic hour glass shape, with fine B-cup tits and a bubble butt. Both of which I used to have access to on a regular basis.  

My wife's parents lived in a two story colonial. They slept on the first floor. The rest of the bedrooms were upstairs. We were billeted upstairs in the guest bedroom which was next to Beth's. A common bathroom was down the hall.

We all had a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner that night. Rhonda went to bed early and alone complaining of a migraine headache. Beth and I played some cards while her parents watched TV. I enjoyed her company, her innocence. Beth didn't know how attractive she was probably because she had only recently blossomed. She was a pleasure to be around. She had an easy laugh. We continued our card games after her parents turned in. 

Purely by accident, I swear, I dropped some cards to the floor. When Beth bent down to pick them up, her peasant blouse ballooned open revealing her "biggie" size tits. Don't you just love young girls who haven't internalized all the protective actions their mothers strive to teach them to prevent boys from having fun? Beth had absorbed her mother's instructions about always crossing her legs at the ankles or knees when sitting. But she obviously hadn't learned the "arm across the chest" maneuver to prevent boys from looking down your shirt whenever you lean over.

I marveled at her orbs, so full and white. They strained against her bra as gravity pulled them into the perfect globes that they were. You know, how sometimes you forget how long it has been since you last ate and you don't realize how hungry you are until you smell something wonderful like bacon frying or bread baking? That's the feeling that I got. Seeing her marvelous boobs reminded me of how long it had been since I had been allowed to enjoy my wife's flesh.

That's the exact moment it started. The seed of the idea was planted then. Since Rhonda wasn't satisfying me, I decided to seek some satisfaction from her beautiful little sister. 

"Beth, you must have the boys eating out of your hands," I teased.

Softly, with eyes downcast, she responded as she sat up, "I have never been one of the popular girls. Maybe because I'm kinda of a late bloomer. Most of my experiences with boys have consisted of teasing and having my bra strap snapped."

Beth and I called it a night and headed to our respected rooms. I found Rhonda asleep in my room. Her headache medicine has that effect on her. Good, because I had all ready decided this night was not over.  

"How long does it take a teenage girl to undress?" I wondered.

As I waited 5 minutes, I stripped to my boxers. Then I went out into the hall and brazenly opened Beth's door unannounced. She was in her bra and panties. She had on a utilitarian match set in basic white with just a little lacy. I found her sitting in front of a mirror brushing her hair. I acted like this incursion was perfectly normal and innocently asked,

"Where do you keep the extra towels?"

Blushing she said quietly, "In the linen closet beside the bathroom." 

She turned her youthful body away from me. I walked further into her room. My underwear began to tent. I stood behind her and look at her in the mirror saying, 

"I can wait to take my shower until after you brush your teeth."

She nodded slowly.

I leaned forward, grasped her shoulders and gently began to massage them. I took advantaged of my position to look down pass her freckled chest to her massive cleavage. Her virginal breasts were milky white cones, so new that they showed no signs of ever being exposed to the sun. I was turned on all the more thinking that I was the first man to ever see them. 

The nipples of her big breasts were erect. I could see them pressing on the material of her bra. I casually slipped her bra straps off her silky shoulders. She gasped and set her brush down. She licked her lips apprehensively and looked up at me with a mixture of hope and fear.  A little more of her boobs came into view. I took it in with hungry eyes.

"You're done with this for today aren't you?" I asked as I unhooked her bra.  It sprang forward revealing her pink nipples. The smallish, quarter sized areoles were punctuated by hardened centers which stood out proudly and with more confidence than their owner possessed.

"Ah...ah, thanks," she said quietly as she caught the bra. Her deep mounds were still clearly visible. With a sense of modest, she covered her nips.

My throbbing penis extended to its full length and I brushed it menacingly against her back. She leaned away from me. The scent of her girlish floral perfume filled my nostrils.

I kissed the top of her head, said good night and went back to the guest room closing my door. My heart was pounding furiously. The rush I felt was tremendous! I had never been so forward before in my life. 

A few minutes later, I heard Beth's door open as she went to the bathroom. Glancing at my unconscious wife, I was emboldened and decided to take this adventure further. I took my underwear off and stood naked by the door. I opened it and waited for Beth to exit the bathroom. She would have to pass me. As she walked to her room, I strode out naked and erect. 

"Sweet dreams," I said to my teenage sister as I walked to the bathroom.

Her face turned bright red. She backed away into the wall. However, she couldn't take her eyes off my engorged penis. I felt sure this was a sight she hadn't seen before. Seeing her stare, I stopped to give her a good view and said,

"Don't worry we're all family now."

"Ah, Ah," she babbled as she clutched at her robe and scurried by me to her room.

I took my shower and masturbated to the memory of that look on her face. My orgasm was volcanic, knee buckling and the best sex I had had for months! 

My game continued the next day. In the morning, I sat with my father as Rhonda and my mother-in-law made breakfast. I volunteered to go upstairs and tell Beth breakfast was almost ready. Hearing the showering running, I entered the bathroom. I got a translucent view of her naked form as she washed her hair through the hazy shower curtain. 

I stepped forward and quietly pulled the curtain back a tad. Her long hair was piled on top her head. Her large breasts and taunt lower region seemed to glow a ghostly white as they sharply contrasted with the rest of her tanned athletic body. Her nipples were erect. Her breasts were jumping about like a burlesque dancer's as she stood with both arms in the air shampooing her hair. The water soaked pubic hair around her sex was stringy and straight. I could see her slit and her plump lips. 

I closed the curtain and stepped back. She became aware of my presence and was truly unnerved when I said,

"Beth, your mom says breakfast will be ready soon."

Her eyes opened wide in a shot and she turning away from me. Her white butt had a nice curve to it, I observed.  

"Umm, I'll be down in a minute," she finally responded.

"Fine," I respond.

"I'll be getting out soon," she said with a hint of desperation in her voice.

I went back to the curtain and opened it noisily this time letting her know that I was looking in on her. A clear view of her backside met my greedy eyes. She had a beautiful back and a trim ass.

"Rhonda likes it when I shampoo her hair. Would you like me to do yours?"

"Aaa, thanks I just did it."

"Okay. See you downstairs."

With a pounding chest and a firm erection, I left and went downstairs.

The carnival was in town that week-end. On Saturday we all decided to go. My wife has never been a big fan of the rides, her parents passed on them as well, so it was mostly Beth and I going on them together. On some rides we sat side-by-side. In those cases, during the ride my hand will squeeze her knee and travel up her thigh. Her athletic legs were firm, yet soft. On one ride she sat in front of me. I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist. As the ride swung us up and down, I slide my hands up and caressed her full breasts. I also pressed my erection into her. I lingered over her nipples, rubbing them until I had excited them to hard points. Red faced and with protruding nips, she rejoined her parents when the ride was over. Her father commented on her ruddy cheeks saying she must have liked that ride. I know it was my favorite.

That trip passed too quickly for me. I was obsessed with Beth. Whenever we were alone, I rubbed her shoulders, butt or breasts. I continued to walk into her bedroom or the bathroom unannounced catching her in various states of undress. At every opportunity, I exposed myself to her. Suddenly, I had a sex life again. I was jacking off frequently and furiously.

Why do these memories come back to me today more than twenty years later? Why, because Beth's daughter, Taylor, has come to stay with us. She is out of college on summer break and doing an unpaid internship program at a hospital in our town. Short on cash, we are her no cost hotel.

You might be surprised that Rhonda and I are still married. I guess there are two reasons. One, Rhonda's doctor got her on the right medicine. Her issues were resolved and I had the loving woman I married returned to me. And two, Beth never told anyone about our special week-end when I took it upon myself to introduce her to the male form.

Taylor is every bit her mother's child. She has the same beautiful form; tall and trim with a bountiful allotment of tits. She has also recently turned 18. So she is the same age as Beth was when she and I had my magical week-end so many years ago. 

Standing in my morning shower masturbating, I am lost in the moment contemplating whether I should take it upon myself to have a similar experience with Taylor. That thought is really increasing the level of pleasure I'm experiencing. I'm awakened from my self induced coma by the unmistakable gushing sound of a female peeing and the faint smell of urine. 

I open my eyes to see Taylor sitting on the toilet. Her panties are on the floor and her nightshirt is bunched up around her waist. She begins to giggle.

"Good morning, Uncle Andrew! I thought only kids like my little brother Richard do that."

Startled, I realize she has caught me pleasuring myself. The clear shower curtain I had bought to give me an unobstructed view of my wife showering has been my undoing as well as my lack of commitment to finishing the master bathroom re-modeling job. I had yet to install the new toilet and cabinets in the master bedroom. With our bathroom out of commission, Rhonda and I had become accustomed to using the hall bathroom. Since our kids are out of the house that hasn't been a problem, but today I forgot we have a guest.

"Ahh, Taylor..."

"Hope I didn't startle you. I had to go so badly I didn't think I could make it downstairs," she said with a devilish smile.

She stands and pulls her night shirt over her head. Her 36 C breasts are firm and high. They have small cherry colored nipples which are puffed out and are topped off with erect tips. She yawns and stretches showing off her tight body. She reaches down and scratches her puss through her closely cropped pubic hair. I'm staring in shock at the inverted triangle of curly black hair that is at the apex of her tanned thighs when she says innocently,

"Can I have the next shower?"

"Wa...well...well," I stammer my feeble reply.

Before I can spit out a coherent sentence she goes over to the sink and begins to brush her teeth. Her lean backside is a sight. Her long legs aren't too bad either. I stare at her sex peeking out from under her rounded butt. She shaves I observe.

Completely unnerved I finally manage a complete sentence and say, "I'll be finished in a minute."

She begins to giggle again. 

"That's what my kid brother says too when I catch him."

I feel like a kid. Is there a more embarrassing situation than being caught jerking off? I turn off the water. Extremely self conscious, I fumble for a towel, but there isn't one in its normal place. My dick is sticking straight out with a large helmet shaped head. Pronounced veins stand out on my shaft. Taylor turns and smiles. She looks me up and down and then tosses me a hand towel.

"Don't worry, we're family," she says. After pausing for effect she continues, "You're just as nice as Mom said you would be."

Panic stricken I blubber, "Aahh, aahh." 

Does she know? Is this a dream? No more like my worst nightmare. I wipe my face with the small square of cloth. The shock I've just experience has shrunk my member down to "swimming in ice water size". My mind begins to race. What's going on? Could things get any worse? Yes, what if my wife shows up.

As calm as I can I say, "What do you mean dear." I'm fishing for information.

She stands in front of me grinning fearlessly, completely nude, with her hands on her hips. She is the total package young, smart, beautiful and uninhibited.

"Oh nothing... really. Mom told me that you were a kind, handsome, confident man who had nothing to hide." There's that giggle again. 

Suddenly, there is a sharp knock on the door. I hear Rhonda calling out as she begins to open the door, "Hey, is it my turn for the shower?"

I lunge for the door crying out, "I'll be out in a moment dear." 

In that split second as the door swings open, my life flashes before my eyes. In my mind I keep saying to myself "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead." I manage to stop the door.

My wife says, "Okay. I'm going to get some coffee, I be back in a few minutes."



Remembering



Erica Cranston sits on the exam table across from Dr. David Madison in the room, nothing between them. The door is closed. Her knees part wavering nervously. He sits on a low stool, legs crossed, one hand holding his chin as he listens. She's used to the conversation now. This is not the first she has met with. He wasn't one the list Margaret had sent her. He is older than the others have been. The graying hair gives him a distinguished look. He is tall, slim, athletic, and handsome.

"All my life," she answers as her hands drag up along the top of her thighs pulling the skirt with them. By now, he is looking between them. The others did too. Just in case he is having problems seeing, she spreads her legs a little more. She watches him squirm and breathe in deeply.

"Ah, what would I use for a diagnosis?" He adjusts his position on the stool, probably to give his erection more room in his pants.

"Can't you just use another patients pathology reports? I need my leg amputated and I'm getting tired of making appointments ... tired of no one willing to help me." 

"Well-l-l." The word drags on forever. Still sitting on the stool, he leans back against the wall and changes which leg is crossed. His arms cross against his chest. A few fingers pull his chin. The sight under her skirt that is becoming more visible as she continues to pull it up distracts his attention to the conversation.

"Shame on you," she teases.

"Ah, um." He drops his hand and sits up again.

She lifts the hem of the skirt up to her waist fully exposing herself. "Nice, isn't it?" The others stared. One even did more than look. Erica was willing to do anything to have her left leg amputated.

"Yes," he says uncertain of what she is suggesting.

She leaves the skirt resting against her stomach and leans casually back against one hand. Her tongue drags across the lower lip. "Touch it ... if you want." Her voice is velvet smooth and sultry. She looks directly into his eyes. "You do, don't you?"

Pulling with a foot, he rolls the stool closer. His white lab coat brushes against her knee as he stops. "The surgery...." He pauses and touches the inside of her upper leg just above the knee. "Some people do quite well afterwards." His finger makes an invisible mark.

"Higher," she whispers. "Much higher." His finger continues marking in the same place. She takes his hand and moves it until it is several inches below the top of her thigh. She makes a new mark with the same finger of his hand. "Here."

"You probably wouldn't be able to use a prosthesis."

"I don't want to." She pulls his hand higher.

His finger enters her, filling her. She gasps at the enormity of it, bigger than any cock. She's never felt anything like it, never filled with a single finger. She grabs at his wrist. She gasps in pleasure first, then in pain. She can't pull the hand away. She looks. He is wearing only his lab coat and a surgical mask. He positions himself at the foot of the exam table. "I would be happy to remove both legs." His finger slides out of her giving him space to insert his cock. "You'd look wonderful without legs." Her head swings from side to side as she hears his words. She opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. Her mouth forms the word NO. She is unable to force the word away. She feels his weight on her. She attempts to spread her legs then to lift them, to wrap her feet against his back. Nothing moves. "They are gone now. Don't you love being legless?" She feels him riding her, filling her with his cock. He is huge, long. Each stroke takes minutes seeming to never end. Each stroke takes her though at least one orgasm, often more. She attempts to caress his face. Her left hand will not move. The right hand as well. "They are gone," he assures her.

Erica sits up straight like a shot, naked in the darken bedroom. A cold sweat covers her. The ceiling fan turns slowly. The cool night breeze flutters the curtains. She flips the covers towards the foot of the bed.

"Wow!" she moans as she reassures herself the leg is really missing and nothing else. It had been for several years since the amputation. The dream was a strange amalgam of the doctors she had approached. She has had the dream before. She knows it well. Her fingers touch the few inches of thigh remaining of the left leg. She rolls the soft flesh of the end in her palm enjoying the results. A finger curls the nipple of one breast and she lets a sigh blow between her lips.

She twists letting her foot drop to the floor then she hops to the writing desk a small distance from the bed. She flips to a blank page and clicks the pen exposing the tip. 

Tuesday - woke up thinking about David.

She then drops the pen at an angle on the page and leans back interlocking her fingers behind her head. "Yeah," she says aloud looking past her breasts riding atop her chest into her lap with the long slim right leg in stark contrast to the short stump next to it. She rests the foot on the edge of the desk. The toes wiggle. Past thoughts of places far away overtake her.

-

Joanne grips Erica's upper arm. "Poor woman," she whispers looking away from the slightly older woman walking on crutches with a single leg appearing below the hem of the soft yellow summer dress. 

Erica feels her breath finish the last of the remark against her cheek. She scans the area until she sees the woman leaving the bank across the street half a block away. She watches long enough to memorize the images of the foot swinging between the crutches as the woman walks towards the intersection. 

Their shoulders press together. "Poor woman," Joanne whispers again. Her hand still grips Erica's arm as though she might flee. She would be following the woman if she were alone. Erica glances at Joanne still watching the woman. Quickly she looks back not wanting to miss a single step. "What do you think happened?" asks Joanne.

"Probably asked a doc to cut it off," Erica teases still watching as the woman stops to press the button on the post for the walk signal. "Doesn't she walk well?"

"That's rude."

"What?"

Joanne frowns looking at Erica. "Suggesting she wanted to be that way." Smiling, her attention returns to the woman still waiting at the intersection. "She does walk well. Have you ever had to use crutches?"

"Some. I didn't mind."

"Oh God, I did! It was only for a week because of a sprained ankle, but it was awful."

"But you knew it was only for a week, at least a short time and not forever ... so you probably never took time to learn how to do it well or to develop the muscles to let you do it well." The light changes and the woman crutches to the other side of the intersection. "Just watch her. She has a lot of grace in her moments. Just watch. She is great."

"Erica, I almost think you're getting turned on." Joanne giggles and lets her hand slide down the arm until she holds her hand for a moment before letting go. Erica sighs as she once again begins to breathe. They both continue to watch until the woman is out of sight.

"Wasn't she impressive? If I had one leg and walked on crutches, I would hope that I would be able to be that graceful."

"I doubt you will ever need to have only one leg. Are you still up for lunch?"

"Yeah. I hope we can get a sidewalk table."

"Why, so you can watch for her?" Joanne smiles and pulls on Erica's hand.

The planned destination is the Palm, a hip lunch spot in the next block on Elm. At two in the afternoon, the lunch crowd has long vanished. As Erica requests, the hostess seats them at a table in the shade along the sidewalk.

"You happy?" Joanne asks sarcastically while pulling her chair noisily underneath her. She crosses her legs and let a foot swing back and forth. The modestly high heel shoe dangles from the toes of the swinging foot. Flipping the menu open, her eyes bounce nervously between the page and Erica's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Ah, work. Connie was a bit of a bitch this morning. The girl just goes crazy." Her finger follows an entry in the menu as she reads. "Hate most of my co-workers." She flips the page and then flips it back. "Guess I'll do the old standby, the bacon cheeseburger."

"That sounds good." Erica closes the menu and stares blankly at the building across the street replaying the mental video of the woman on crutches.

"Earth to Erica," Joanne says waving her hand in front of Erica's face. She grins and giggles.

Erica turns her head slowly. "What?"

"You were somewhere else ... thinking about that woman, huh?"

"You like women ... right? Would you kick her out of bed just 'cause she has one leg? She was really nice looking ... even I thought so."

"Oh my. Are you ready to switch teams?" Joanne laughs and bites into the burger. Holding the burger still, she looks at Erica. "I keep telling you there's a cold space in my bed if you are." She laughs and bites into the burger again.

"Sometimes your offers are tempting. Jack isn't coming over much anymore. I thought I was giving him...." Erica becomes silent and takes the first bite of the burger then sips on the ice tea.

"Good head? But does he return the favor?" There is a slight sparkle in her voice. She drags her tongue across her lips. "Now that's what's so great about two women in bed."

"I'll take your word for it ... for now." She giggles. "He was okay."

"Past tense huh? Does that mean you two aren't an item anymore?"

Erica's head shakes slightly as she thinks about the tone of his voice when he yelled at her and slammed his fist against the wall the other evening. The way the door slammed as he left. The way the phone never rang as she waited for him to call and apologize. She knew it was over. She had told him something he would have never understood and he could not take it.

Joanne reaches over and rests her hand on Erica's hand. "Hey, we've been friends for several years. You can talk to me about anything. What's going on?" Erica looks up, the smile now gone replaced by a blank stare. Soon a tear begins to form and she dabs at it with the edge of her hand. "Does this have anything to do with that amputee woman?" Joanne gazes into Erica's eyes, hers flutter slightly while she caresses her hand. 

Erica shakes her head knowing she cannot talk about her feelings. Images of Jack's reaction again flash though her head. She glances at the empty plates. "No," she finally whispers. "Thanks for caring." She straightens in the chair. "Thanks for lunch." She grabs the check and pulls a credit card from her purse.

"Let me get it. You paid last time."

"No."

"Well, I guess I need to run. I'm going to be late for a meeting."

"I need to sit for a while. I'm going to get a refill on my ice tea." Erica watches Joanne walk away and lets the straw rest between her lips. Her eyes drift along the sidewalk knowing she will not see the woman. She wants to. The server pours more tea and Erica rips another bag of sugar over the glass. Half an hour later Erica walks from the restaurant.

-

Erica sits at the writing desk. A glass of Merlot sits at the corner of the desk. She stares at the blank page and fiddles with the pen spinning in her fingers. She lets half the glass pour into her mouth while reflecting. Erica writes in her journal. 

Thursday - Watched a woman with one leg as she walked along the sidewalk using crutches - gracefully. Joanne didn't know. I didn't tell her.

She lays the pen at an angle on the page and sips the wine. "Yeah, she was lovely," she whispers aloud to herself and lets another sip roll gently along her tongue. She unbuttons the blouse and pushes her hand though the waistband of her jeans finding bare skin. Watching the slideshow of pictures of amputee women dance across the computer screen, she lets her fingers dance between her legs.

The glass now empty and the orgasm over, she again picks the pen up. One end taps against her lips then she begins to write. 

Goddamn these feelings overwhelm me. They always have, but now they consume every waking moment. I never

She stops without finishing and leans back then pours more wine into the glass, the fourth time this evening. The unbuttoned blouse drops beside the chair before taking another sip of wine. Against she scratches out the last two words and writes. 

These feelings have been a part of me since early childhood. Where they came from, I have no clue. I must begin searching for a solution. What kind of solution is there? How do I find it?

The pen rests again and she stands letting the jeans slide along her long legs. Stepping from them she takes the bottle and walks naked though the darkened house. Lips coated with wine, her tongue wipes them clean, and then she coats them again. "Goddamn," she groans aloud leaning her arms on the kitchen counter and her head on them. She slams her fist against the marble. "Goddamn."

-

The ceiling fan turns slowly overhead. Only the computer screen lights the room. Erica's heart pounds as she reads the new e-mail from Margaret. That is what she calls herself. Who knows if the person is a she or a he, telling the truth or just getting their jollies at her expense?

Hello Erica, sorry you are having such trouble. I've enjoyed our exchange of e-mail these few weeks. Here are four names of doctors that might be willing to help. I asked the doctor that amputated my leg and he is unable to help you or anyone. After me, he feels lucky to still practice medicine. Margaret.

Erica lets the breeze from the fan wash over her naked body for a moment as she absorbs what she has just read. She walks by the printer and carries the page with the e-mail, a picture of Margaret with her stump exposed, and the addresses of doctors to the kitchen. She pours a small amount of whiskey into a glass and washes her mouth with the brown liquid then lets it fall through her throat. "Ah-h," she gasps as the burn begins to vanish. Five more swigs and she returns to bed.

-

"Yes, Margaret Schmidt. Don't you know her?" Erica sits in the small plain exam room of the second doctor on the list. It has taken two months to see Dr. Alfred Barlow, vascular and plastic surgeon. She again looks at the man. Distinguished, older, graying hair, nice features, inspiring, all the qualities a person would want in a surgeon.

"You need your leg amputated. Why?" He shifts in his chair as his hands examine her thigh and knee.

It was a question she had asked herself a million times. She had no answer for herself so how could she answer him. "All my life I've needed it amputated. I can't go on this way."

His hand rests on her knee and she lets the other move away slightly. He looks along the inside of the thigh at the part of her that is becoming more visible. He smiles. She does too.

"Maybe below the knee. You could successfully wear a prosthetic leg that way. It would be less disabling." He continues to look under her skirt while talking. "Such a lovely woman ... why would you want to cripple yourself?"

"I don't think of it that way."

"How do you think of it then?"

"I see my left leg ending in a stump. Right now it ends in a leg and that is plain wrong." Her right knee moves farther away from the other. "I know some people, most I'm sure, would think like you do that I would be disabled. I would see myself becoming more like how I should be."

He rubs his chin and adjusts himself on the stool. "Hmmm."

"If I asked to have my breasts enlarged or made smaller, would that be disabling? No! I'm just asking to have my body altered slightly. Can't you see?"

"Well Ms. Cranston, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to help you now. Perhaps if you come back in a year and still want this, we can talk more."

Erica wipes at the tears forming in her eyes and a frown covers her face. "Why not now?"

"'Cause this can't be undone. I don't want to cause you any harm." He sits upright still looking under her dress.

She grins in acknowledgement. "Don't you want to touch me ... there?"

"I'd get in less trouble if I amputated your leg young lady." He smiles.

She leaves herself exposed. "Do you know of any other doctors I could talk to that would help?"

He shakes his head and stands. "How many have you talked with?"

She stands letting her skirt fall along her thighs. "You're the second. Margaret gave me four names." She holds Margaret's e-mail up towards him.

He takes the page and reads it then shakes his head. "I don't know any of them. Is she happy now?" He hands it back.

"I've never met her in person. She says she is."

"Listen, call me in three months. We'll talk. I can't promise you anything ... understand?" He shakes her hand and leaves the room.

-

Nighttime is her favorite time to write. Dressed in only a clean wifebeater undershirt and black boy cut panties, Erica makes another entry in her journal. She drinks another glass of Merlot in the process. The bottle is nearly empty now.

Friday - I met with another doctor. Same fate. Same answer. I'm more depressed than before. This is making life harder, not better. What will I do?

She flips the calendar and looks at the big scrawl a week later. Three o'clock, Dr. Marks. Will it be any different she ponders tiling her head back and letting the wine pour into her mouth from the bottle. She sits the bottle down hard. "NO!" she screams aloud while looking at the new crutches resting against the wall.

"Hello?" she angrily slurs into the phone after the third ring.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No Joanne, not really. I'm just going though a bad moment. There're too many of them these days. Having a few drinks to help smooth things out." Erica laughs and begins to pour another glass. Before any lands in the glass, she stops then drinks from the bottle.

"Can I help?"

"Not unless you know a...." Erica stops herself before finishing the sentence. She drinks from the bottle again.

"Know who ... what?"

"Nah. I'm okay. Guess I need to do a few things before I go to bed." She clicks the button and hears the dial tone.

The phone rings again. "Don't hang up!" Joanne says instantly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's something I can't talk about. I've never been able to."

"I'm coming over. Give me fifteen minutes."

"No!" Erica screams into the dial tone. "Fuck," she groans as she puts the phone down.

The door slams shut as Joanne wraps her arms around Erica. "Honey. What's wrong?" She kisses her cheek and her hands rub the small of the back trying to console. She listens to the quiet sobs. Erica does not pull away but remains tightly pressed against her friend.

Erica eventually pushes away. "I'm not going to talk about this. Not now, not ever."

"It's not good to hold this inside." Joanne pulls Erica's hand until they are sitting next to each other on the couch.

"Sorry, it is just my darkest secret. Can't...."

"Shhh," Joanne hisses with a finger across her lips. "Listen to me." Her head shakes a few times as she rests her hands in her lap and looks at them silently for a minute. "I was born a boy." Her voice is quiet. "It's been ten years since I had surgery to fix that small problem." She giggles and looks at Erica. "I don't tell anyone. It's none of their business. I think you need to know so you can talk to me about your problem."

Erica just stares in silence at Joanne for a while. "Thanks for sharing that with me. I appreciate it. I would have never known."

Joanne takes Erica's hand in hers. She smiles and gives Erica a small kiss on the lips then sits back up.

"The woman on crutches that day...." Erica takes her hand back and leans against the arm of the couch. She runs her fingers though her hair a few times then pulls it back in a long ponytail before fluffing it out across her shoulders. Joanne watches in silence knowing Erica will talk when ready. "I should be like her."

"Oh-h."

"I always have felt that way, kind of like you feeling you were in the wrong body. Sure there are differences. It isn't a good analogy, I know. It does paint the right picture though."




Remembering



"So, are there doctors to help?"

"You've got me. I have been corresponding with a woman overseas that claims to have had her leg amputated. She sent me a list of doctors. So far, I've seen a few, all without luck. Hell, I've even offered my body to them." Erica laughs. "Oh they looked alright. None touched." She laughs again this time while playing with her hair. "Thought guys would do anything for some pussy." She shakes her head and sits back up.

Joanne twists on the cushion leaving one foot under the other thigh as she faces Erica. "When I was in therapy before my surgery, I ... ah, um, heard about a person that not only needed to be a woman, but wanted her leg amputated. I was told it was about all she could talk about."

"Did she ever have it off?"

"Yup ... 'least that's the story."

"Why didn't you mention this that day when we saw the woman with one leg?"

"I didn't know how important it was to you ... and I didn't want to have to explain things, you know, about my gender therapy and surgery."

Erica speaks quickly and excitedly. "Tell me how to find her. Do you know how I can contact her?"

"I'm sure I wrote about it in my journal ... you keep a journal? I can't promise anything, but I'll try to find a way to contact her. She used to live on the east side of town ... never met her, but I think I can find someone that knew her.

Erica clasps both hands over her chest and gasps. "Oh God, that would be wonderful."

"Hey, anything for my best friend."

Joanne leans closer, her lips hovering over Erica's lips. Warm breaths cross soft skin. Small distances begin to vanish. Tongues slide though wet lips. The kiss lingers as faces tilt for better access.

-

"Erica? This is Jade. Joanne told you about me."

"The amputee?"

"Yeah, that one." The laugh fills Erica's ear for a moment. "I understand we share something there." She giggles. "We should meet and talk."

"Name a time. Now?" Now it is time for Erica to chuckle.

The dial tone replaces Jade's voice and Erica rushes to bring new order to the chaos of the living room. "Fifteen minutes," she pants throwing pillows into the corner of the couch.

-

Jade crutches though the living room into the kitchen behind Erica. "Can I get you a drink? Maybe some wine?" Erica asks Jade. She stops and looks at Jade. "Ah-h," she drawls.

"What? Snot hanging out of my nose?" She giggles and wipes at her face.

"No, no. I saw you downtown ... coming out of the bank. Wow. Now I wish I'd followed you and introduced myself."

"Me too." She giggled again.

"I have some Merlot." Erica pulls the loose cork from the already opened bottle. "Damn, you look nice." She stands and lets her eyes gaze from head to toe and back. "I wish I could look so nice. Bet you drive the guys wild." She looks at the long slim right leg hanging from the short skirt of the tall willowy woman. Perfect breasts press against the tight blouse, long brown hair fans over her shoulders.

"Custom bodies you know." Jade clinks her glass of wine against the one Erica holds. "Here's to another amputee."

Erica leans against the counter sipping the wine still looking at Jade. "Really?"

"If it is what you want."

"Oh yeah, it is. I'm just amazed at how beautiful you are."

"Just 'cause I was a guy to begin with?"

"Well ... uh-huh. You're the second I've known. I didn't know about Joanne until the other night. I would have never guessed."

"Some are luckier than others. Not everyone is passable and they deal with that in their own ways."

"Tell me about your amputation."

"I guess it is similar to your story, something I felt was wrong all my life. Eventually I found someone and now all is great." She drags the hem of the skirt upwards until it is closer to her waist. A black thong covers her barely. The stump is short and moves about then hangs still.

"How?"

"Oh darlin', these days there are several doctors in the world quite willing to do whatever you want."

"In this country?"

"No ... that's what airplanes are for." She laughs and finishes the glass of wine. She pours more and adds to Erica's glass. Erica's eyes remain fixed on the stump. "Go ahead, touch it."

"It's the first I've been around." 

Jade raises the stump. "I want you to enjoy it. You'll have your own before long and you'll play with it all the time. I do." Erica presses a finger gently against the soft end. "You won't hurt me," Jade says as takes the hand and presses and rubbing the flat of the palm over the stump. "Isn't it heavenly?" She removes her hand leaving Erica's hand alone.

Erica nods as her hand begins to knead it like dough. "Did you pick the length?"

"Yes. Darling that feels nice, only one thing that feels better." She laughs.

"Do you have orgasms?"

"Oh baby, do I ever. Have you seen Joanne's pussy?"

"Nah."

Jade begins to push against the waistband. "Wanna see?" She continues to push against the piece of fabric that does little to cover her.

"Strangely, yeah."

"What's strange? Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No, but I feel connected with you in ways I would have never expected. Maybe because you're an amputee ... for the same reasons I need to be." The patch of fabric rests around the ankle and Erica's finger hovers nervously in front of the glistening folds of skin. "It looks real." She smiles and presses her fingertip inside.

"It is real," Jade whispers encouragingly as the fingertip explores.

Erica feels a hand wedge past the top of her jeans. She moans approvingly. Fingers search. Fingers find. Her forehead digs into a shoulder. Her hand presses against tender parts. Her moans mirror other moans. Together they pleasure. Together they enjoy.

Later, Erica holds a scrap of paper as she watches Jade crutch through the night to her car. They wave. They promised to meet again. They probably won't. They both know they won't.

"Good luck in San Francisco," Erica says as the car door closes.

-

Erica stands and shakes the dream away. "Wow," she moans aloud as she reaches for her crutches. Strange dream she thinks to herself knowing she's had one leg for several years. It is a recurring dream. She crutches past the writing desk, past the open journal, to the bathroom. Pausing in front of the large mirror over the counter with two sinks, she poses then rests the crutches against the wall. Leaning into the shower, she lets the water warm. Again, she stands and watches her reflection. Her hand cups her stump and moves it about below her hip.

Robert searches the warm empty space next to him in bed. He moves quietly across the plush carpet watching her fingers enter where he had been. He watches her turn slightly on her single foot. He begins to become firm. He begins to become erect.

"See anything you like?" she teases as her finger casually plays inside. "Looks like you do." She giggles.

"How did I get so lucky?"

"Being married to you is particularly wonderful."

"You're such a vision."

"Yeah, you just like me with one leg."

"Ha ... got that right."

"Well that missing arm is turning me on. Maybe you could drag it over me. Give me a moment and I'll be right back." She takes a long sultry look before closing the door.

He returns to the bed holding the stump of his left arm that ends several inches above where the elbow used to be. He gives the prosthetic arm ending in a metal hook a slight kick as he sits.

Erica crutches slowly from the bathroom watching him fondle his stump. "Didn't think I'd ever have my leg off...." She leans the crutches against the wall. "I sure never thought I'd find someone like you. Someone that wanted to be an amputee." She pushes her hand across his stomach and curls her fingers around his cock. "Hmmm," she hums. "What can we do with this?"

"Well-l-l," drawls with a smile. "Maybe you can sweet talk me into putting my hook around a part of you."

"Darling, you say the nicest things. Do you have it in front of the air conditioner? Nothing like a cold hook against a nipple or farther south." She giggles. Her lips kiss downwards. Her hand still holds his hot swollen flesh. "You like this, don't you?" A few more kisses, each lower. Her lips press near her fingers still wrapped around his cock. It rubs across her cheek as her face moves, teases, makes him want. She listens to him groan, beg. She tastes the tip, the smooth gland. She glares at him. "Watch!" He would anyway. He is. It enters her mouth. It makes a small pop. Her tongue licks. She relaxes to accept more. He groans again. Her lips tighten, drag back towards the end, slide downwards. His hand plays with her hair. She looks at his stump lying out from his body. She feels the large head at the top of her throat. She gags a little. He launches. He begins to pour forth. She swallows. Her fingers circle the shaft, stroking, empting him. She swallows more. She strokes. He finishes.

Erica moves her hips teasing his face. Her wetness covers the pussy lips. Her aroma fills the air. She fells his tongue begging, demanding to be inside. She teases more slowly inching closer. His arm stump coaxes her hip. She loves the pressure of the partial arm, the rounded end. She moans. "You want me ... don't you? Beg me." Her voice is low and soft. She gives in. She moans again this time because he parts her pussy lips wide with the broad width of his tongue. "Ah-h," she reassures pressing, wiggling, her cunt against his mouth. "Ah-h," she moans again. "Hold my stump." She pauses and does not feel his hand. "My stump!" She yells begging for his touch. His tongue flicks her clit. His hand cups her stump. "Yeah!" she screams and wiggles against his chin. "Oh-h, almost." She finishes and falls onto the wrinkled sheets.

She awakes. He is gone. From the wrinkled sheets of the bed, Erica listens to the front door close before Robert walks to the car. He will be back soon. His aroma still fills her nostrils. Her fingers feel his cum between her thighs. She dabs the fingertip at her lips. She purrs and does it again. "Darling," she whispers aloud.

Her breasts sway with each hop to the writing desk. It is a sensation she loves. She sits and flips the pages of the journal, one from the past. A thick page stops the flipping. The page with the yellowed note from Jade faces her. Her fingers drag across each line as she reads remembering that evening. A finger of the other hand enters her pussy. Another joins the first. They slop though the wetness. She thinks about that night. She pumps her hand. She thinks more. She grows wetter. She lays her face against the note. She kisses it. The orgasm begins. She finishes. She sits up still in that evening. Her eyes open.

Robert Morgan has the information. He is looking for you and has the money. I think you will make a wonderful pair. Best of luck. Jade.



Remembering



A few years back, there was a popular country song about how songs could trigger memories for people. I remember thinking at the time how true that was, and could rattle off a dozen examples of how a particular song would stimulate a memory, usually involving either a woman or a meal ( I like to eat, so shoot me). I didn't really appreciate the song's message until just recently, when I was driving I90 west through New York.

I was headed west, going to visit my wife's sister in Minneapolis, listening to satellite radio jazz. And there is Nina, singing that damn Irving Berlin song, "You Can Have Him." If you don't know the song, it's about the end of a love affair, and the woman is singing about all the things she wanted to do for her man--fix his favorite breakfast, wash his hair, rub his feet, go out and get the Sunday paper, spend the day in bed, the little things, you know. And suddenly, there was Trish in the car with me.

Right now, I'm a widower on the wrong side of 55 and much too rapidly approaching 60. At the time I was involved with Trish, I was in my late twenties, married to a wonderful, if somewhat unstable, woman, with a five year old daughter. 

Trish and I worked for a human service agency serving a not very attractive population--chronically mentally ill adults. The label just meant they had been hospitalized for a diagnosable mental illness for five of the last ten years, or five times in the last seven years. 

I was trying to teach them how to keep a job when what they needed was instruction in how to be socially appropriate. Trish, 25 then, was a service coordinator, the person who made sure they were getting all the services available to them in the community. We crossed paths frequently, often serving the same people, and we also shared an office. Us, another service coordinator, and whatever recreation leader was working that day.

Our workday began at 8:30AM and ended at 4:00PM. If we were both in the building at lunch time, we would usually eat together. Three or four times a month, especially during the summer, we'd duck out to a restaurant for some decent food, or brown bag it to the park for a picnic lunch.

She was living with a guy who worked for another agency on the west side of the county, separated, but not divorced from the mother of his eighteen year old son, who was staying with them at the time. She had a permanent case of dyspepsia (heartburn, bloat and gas, both ways). We had been working together about six months when I told her, jokingly, that if she'd sleep with me, I'd tell her how to cure her upset stomach.

In the time we'd been working together, there had not been a day, not a single freaking day, she had not complained about Dick, her lover, or his son, Jeff. It didn't take a whole lot of brain power to figure out why she was belching and farting all over the place. 

When I made my offer, she actually thought about it before she answered. "If I weren't with Big Dick (as she called him), I'd take you up on that." 

Not smart enough to keep my mouth shut, I shot back, "If you weren't with Big Prick (as I referred to him), you wouldn't have to." Wow, did that start her thinking. She opened her mouth to object, and give me a piece of her mind, but I just put my finger over her mouth to shush her and told her to think about it.

She apparently did, but it took her another six months. During that time we shared a lot of personal stuff, relationship philosophies, relationship problems, favorites (music, food, places to visit, that crap). We found that we had a lot in common, both were from working class families, both the first in the family to go to college, we liked the same kind of music (progressive jazz), preferred the King to MickyD, liked our Italian on the spicy side, liked to bowl, drive with the top down, and wanted sex four or more days a week.

For me, that last desire, I shared with Trish, was something my wife and I weren't anyplace close to, anymore. In fact it was closer to four times a year, and that was a struggle. Lillie, my wife, was going a real rough patch. Since Carrie had been born, her PMS had progressively gotten worse, to the point that the only time she could stand to be touched was the day she started bleeding. I'm not talking just sex. About the only thing she could tolerate was a light kiss on the lips. Anything else, she'd recoil like she'd been burned. Not the kind of reaction to nurture a marriage.

In addition to the physical stuff, she had lost three people who were very important to her--her mom, her gram, and an older woman who had been both mentor and friend, in the past eighteen months. Working in the field, I was not totally surprised to get a call at work one Tuesday from her grief counselor that he had recommended to her that she check herself into the psych wing of the local teaching hospital. He told me that she had called him from home and seemed to be unable to maintain a coherent line of conversation, and, in fact, her speech was rapid, sounding like an auctioneer in full sale mode.

I explained to my director what was going on. She told me to take whatever time I needed, and not to worry about losing the time from my various time banks. 

I called Lillie at home to be sure she was all right, told her Dave had called me and described her call to him. She was a little pissed, but understood when I said he was concerned. When I told her I was on my way home, she just said "Thank you." She did not object when I got her into the car and started for the hospital. "Do you think he's right?" she wanted to know.

"I think we need to get a second opinion," I told her. She accepted that, and, later, the recommendation by the psychiatrist that she be admitted for evaluation and treatment, if needed. It was the longest, hardest two-week separation we ever had, before or since, including my coronary bypass a few years ago.

I had run into Trish on the way out and told her what was happening. She was waiting in my driveway when I got home. When I asked her in for a drink, she refused saying she couldn't come in when Lillie wasn't home. Instead, she invited me to her place. I called the babysitter and asked if they could keep Carrie overnight. They agreed.

At Trish's, she disappeared for a few minutes to change from her work clothes. She came back in one of those super long tees that covered her from shoulder to knee. We talked for a couple of hours as I brought her up to date on what was going on with Lillie. She kept the drinks coming, not so fast we got shit faced or anything, but enough to keep the tongues wagging. That was the night she told me she had broken up with Dick. 

It had happened a couple of weeks earlier. She hadn't told me because she was afraid I'd say "told you so' when her stomach calmed down overnight. I just laughed at her and pulled her down the couch for a hug. Mistake! Huge! Huger than huge! Hug merged into kiss into foreplay into full on fucking. 

When I pulled to me for the hug, I pulled her on to my lap, my arms around her waist. Her arms went around my neck, and somehow, we were kissing. The first kiss was hardly more than a lip to lip peck, but they continued, and kept getting longer until it became the battle of tongues. As it usually happens in these cases, my hands found their way under the tee shirt, and discovered she had come back without any underwear. 

It didn't take long until she was sitting on my lap sans shirt, my fingers busy exploring her wetness. Her first orgasm was quick--quick to happen, quick to pass. She pulled my hand away from her crotch, and, with her head buried in my shoulder, said, "Fuck me now, Greg. Take me, use me, anyway you want."

I don't remember how many orgasms she had, but I came three times that night before I was able to pull away from her and leave. As I was leaving, at the door, she gave me another hug. "Don't regret this. I know we shouldn't have, but please don't regret it. I don't," she whispered.

I gave her a light kiss on the lips. "My only regret is that we can't repeat it," I told her.

By this time we had been working together for over a year, and folks were used to seeing a certain level of banter between us, including some out and out suggestive flirting. When that changed, they began to ask questions, some very pointed questions. I blamed my change in behavior on the situation with Lillie. Trish, on her change with Dick. 

I saw Lillie at the hospital that weekend for the first time since she had been admitted, although we had spoken on the phone every night. She looked good, better than I expected, based on what I was used to dealing with. I had a chance to talk with her Doctor and learned she would probably be in for the whole two weeks, but would be okay for a short visit home in the middle of the week.

After I saw Lillie, I couldn't help it. I needed Trish. I needed to hold her, kiss her, to be held and kissed. To love and be loved.

I called her to see if she was busy that night. "Not any more. When will you be here?"

"I need to arrange for Carrie. As soon after that as you can be available."

"How long can you stay?"

"Dunno. How long can I stay?"

"Come as soon as you can."

She met me at the door with, as they say, nothing but the radio on. That first night, we hadn't made it out of the living room. That Saturday evening, she led me to her bedroom. As she unbuttoned my shirt, she reached up and kissed me, giving me her tongue, accepting mine then reclaiming the offensive in that universal battle. By the time I was naked, it felt like my cock was a friggin' two by four.

She laid down on the bed, her legs splayed open, her arms lifted to accept me. "Come to me, now." she invited.

As I lay on top of her, Little Charley found her rabbit hole and made himself at home. For a long while, we just lay there, my arms around her, supporting myself on my elbows, kissing, in the missionary position, pubes to pubes, not room for a sheet of toilet paper between us. Soon, biology and need started us moving, beginning the rhythm slowly, then increasing in tempo and urgency, like that ballet, Bolero, by Ravel.

Our first mutual climax didn't take long. I stayed hard, and instead of immediately withdrawing, I rolled to the side, taking her with me. We lay there face to face, joined as only a man and woman can be.

"Thank you," I told her. "I needed you tonight. Not this, you."

"Shhh," she said, "You don't need to explain. How was she?"

"She looks fine. Surprisingly so. They're still working out medication, say it'll be a few days before they can be sure. They'll be sending her home for a half day mid week. That'll be a bit rough on Carrie, but it can't be helped. Part of the reason for the visit is to see Lillie's reaction to her."

"How about you? How are you doing? We haven't really had any time to talk since the other night. I understand why, but I miss our talks. More I think than I miss the sex with Big Dick. Don't get me wrong, you were absolutely right about him, but he could fuck at the drop of a hat. After a year of that, you miss it when it doesn't happen."

"You know that if I could replace him...how can I put this, because I can replace him with something better for you, but circumstances won't permit it. I hope you understand all of that."

She smiled and kissed me, lightly. "Why do you think you would be better for me than Dick?"

"Because I love you, because I want you to be as happy and content with your life as you can be."

Tears began to well up in eyes. She started to pull away as she said, "Damn you! Didn't you ever learn not to say that sort of thing unless you can follow up on it?" 

I pulled her back into my arms. "Love, I know I don't have any right to call you that, but it's true. If I were free, or if I could see where I would be within a reasonable timeframe..."

"Shh. I know. And I'd say yes. But in this case, life sucks large. I think I've loved you since we met. It's because of you I left Dick, somehow hoping for this, and that we'd be able to be together. Part of why I love you is the reason we can't. What was it you said to me, we don't throw away people just because they have problems. We also can't get rid of them just because they are a problem. Not if you love them. And you still do love Lillie, don't you?" I nodded. 

"Is she expecting you tomorrow?"

"No," I shook my head. "There are a bunch of radiography exams they have scheduled. She won't be free until late evening. And Carrie has been invited to go to the museum with her best friend. That's where she's spending the night. I just have to call her around noon tomorrow."

"We have tonight and tomorrow. I'm going to steal you for a day, to remember when I'm too old to screw anymore. You're a better lover than Dick would ever be. I hope you're as good at plain fucking."

"Probably not. I can't separate the two. If i didn't love you, I wouldn't be here." She pulled me into a kiss, then separated from me. I heard her futzing around her stereo (remember those?), and I heard the piano sounds of Nina Simone's concert at Town Hall. Her rendition of "You can Have Him" came on during one of our interludes. 

When it started, Trish threw her leg over me and settled on my staff. "When ever you hear this song, I want you to remember tonight, and me." And she began what was to be the most memorable fuck of my life, and, I hope, hers. Before we were done, she had a half dozen orgasms, each bigger than the one before, and I had come three times, each time more intense than the previous time, but with less volume of ejaculate.

We played out the lyrics of the song--the cuddling, caressing, kissing, the breakfast in bed, the papers and the long Sunday afternoon lovemaking. I called Carrie, told her everything was going to be okay and I would pick her up after supper. I called the hospital and left word for Lil that I would see her tomorrow after work, and that I loved her.

As I was getting ready to leave, Trish dropped her bombshell. She had found another job, within the same umbrella agency, but with another program. She was starting tomorrow. 

It was the last time we were ever alone together. The next, and last, time I saw her, she was engaged to businessman she had met through her new job. Later I heard she was married and had moved to California.

Damn that song.



Remembering



I lie back against the tub and close my eyes; the water is covering my entire body except for the peaks of my breasts which are peaking out of the water like 2 tiny islands in a sea of bubbles. I sigh as I let the warm water soothe my aching muscles. I am remembering our rendezvous this afternoon and am already turned on again just thinking about how your touch turned my skin to fire.

I begin to explore my body under the soapy bubbles and can feel my pussy get wet even though I am submerged in water...I reach down and feel the wet mound of hair above my shaved pussy lips and begin to move my fingers in slow circles on the outside eventually spreading the lips and dipping my fingers into the silky smooth depths of my hot pussy. My clit responds to my touch and gets hard and I flick it with my fingernails and spread my legs open to allow full access. I insert two fingers into my pussy remembering how good it felt when your cock entered me for the first time. You spread me open like my body was made to receive yours and you brought me to the brink of orgasm so many times before you let me cum like never before, each wave shook my entire body and I begged you to stop touching me but you didn't let me go and the waves kept coming and coming. I was left spent and exhausted and aching for more.

I bring my hands to my breasts and massage them gently rolling and pinching my nipples until they are hard and throbbing.

I remember how much you liked having your nipples played with, they are very sensitive and having me lick them with my flat broad tongue and then bite then drove you mad...you grabbed my hair and moved me back and forth between them as you moaned softly. I reached down and felt how hard your cock had gotten already and I couldn't wait to take you in my mouth and make you even harder.

I unzipped your jeans and slide them down off your ass and began rubbing you through your boxers eventually pulling them down too. Your cock popped out of the underwear and was staring me in the face, I started by licking just the head lightly, rolling my tongue all around it and ran my hands up and down your thighs circling around back and grabbing your ass. I pulled you into my mouth all the way and began sucking you in long deep strokes gagging each time your cock hit the back of my throat. I massaged your balls gently rolling them in my warm hands and gently tugging on them as I sucked harder and faster.

I had a glass of ice water beside me and I took a sip and the feeling of my cold mouth on your hot cock was an amazing sensation, you gasped when I took you into my cold mouth so I took a small piece of ice into my mouth and began sucking you with it in there, The sensation was like nothing you have felt before, my hot mouth with an ice cold center drove you crazy, the ice melted before long and my hot mouth was once again hot. You told me that if I kept sucking you like that you would cum any minute so I stood up and you pulled me close and started to kiss me, long and deep passionate kisses that left me breathless. I could feel your cock pressing into my belly and I wanted to feel you inside me. I leaned up and whispered in your ear that I had to feel you slide your cock into me now!

You pushed me back onto the bed and brought my legs up to your hips and wrapped them around you and slide inside me with ease. My pussy was so wet that you almost couldn't feel me wrapped around you. I moaned loudly as your entire cock filled me up. You began pumping slowly and first and then faster and faster, I brought my hand down to my pussy and began massaging my clit while you pumped your cock in and out of me. Each time you pulled out and pushed back in I gasped, the sensation of your cock opening up my pussy was driving me crazy and I begged you to keep doing it. I continued to rub my clit with my right hand and my left hand was teasing my nipples as you pumped faster and faster...little beads of sweat were forming on your brow and you were going to cum. I increased the speed of my fingers on my clit and you groaned and pushed as deep as you could into my pussy and filled me up with your hot warm cum. You fell down on top of me panting as I came seconds later, my body again wracked with convulsions...I wrapped my legs around your hips and wrapped my arms around your neck and pulled you close to me and we fell asleep with you still inside me.

I have cum again in the warm water and sigh as I feel the stress leave my body again. 



Remembering



©2012 Mendon Fishers

It was a Saturday morning and it was raining. I usually got up and played golf with friends on Saturdays, weather permitting. This Saturday the weather was defiantly not permitting. A quick check of the Weather Channel told me it was going to rain hard all day. 

Then I remembered it was Christmas morning. My usual foursome would be spending the day with their families. Me, I didn't have a family anymore. I was spending the day alone.

They had families who would love to have them hang around all day. 

Well my wife had left me 10 years ago and I had no one to report to or share this special day with.. My kids were all of age and had drifted away over time. My son lived in another city making his fame and fortune in the business world. My daughter lived in the area with her husband and my three grandchildren.

I would usually have Saturday or Sunday dinner at her home, but today they were visiting her husband's parents in his old home town. So I was on my own. I sat there at the kitchen table pondering my fate, or in other words, I was trying to figure out what to do with myself this today. 

I had a house keeper. So my house was always clean, the dishes washed, there were meals prepared for me to heat up for my dinners and all the washing and ironing was done. There was also the club if I wanted to eat out. But today it would be closing early so the employees could enjoy this day with their families.

As I sat there contemplating my life, a thought snuck into my mind. I guess it is time to clean out the bedroom closet. It has been ten years since my wife left me. I might as well pack up the stuff she had left there and give it to a women's shelter or something. It had been a duty I had been putting off for too many years. 

I guess I was just avoiding the memories of her.

I took my breakfast dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and stacked them in the dishwasher. Then I headed upstairs to the master bedroom to start my long dreaded chore with all the memories it would invoke.

Once in the closet, I turned to her side. I started by taking everything off the shelf above her clothes because I knew that I'd break down if I started with her clothing first. There were just too many memories there, I'd pick up an outfit and remember what she looked like wearing it, and I'd remember where I had last seen her in it, and I'd start to cry, again. 

I still missed her after all these years. 

I guess that what love does to a person.

I took everything off the shelf and put it on the bed. It was in doing this that I spotted "the box". 

Twenty years ago my wife and I took a trip to Los Angeles. Well actually it was an all expense trip won by yours truly for being the best sales manager in the company for the last five years. 

My team met and exceeded all the challenges handed us by the CEO. We were his "go to" group. And we always came through.

My wife Ann loved the city. She dragged me to Rodeo Drive to "window shop" with the rich and famous. It was there that I talked her into going inside a very high end women's lingerie shop. After a lot of coaxing she entered and fell in love with the place. 

I felt a little funny staring at all the ladies unmentionables. (You know sort of like a pervert) I was saved by a pretty "sales associate" who escorted me to a small men's lounge area. It was set up to give the husbands some place to hang out while their money was being extracted from their wives or girlfriends. There was a 60" flat screen on the wall that was tuned to sports talk, soft leather chairs and couches, magazines about cars or sports or golf or hunting or fishing. Everything needed to satisfy a man's interests except for that brass pole found in some bars or clubs.

There was a small bar stocked with snacks and coffee. A little exploring led me discover a refrigerator full of cold beer and other drinks. I grabbed a beer and got comfortable in one of the chairs watching the flat screen. 

Two hours later the "sales associate" came to get me, 

"Your wife is ready to leave now."

I was just slightly "shit faced". I guess I had a few too many beers. The store called us a cab and helped my wife put me in it. I was just as happy as a clam and my wife soon joined in those feelings. 

I guess the shopping mellowed her.

The next morning I awoke with a really nasty hangover. My head hurt and my stomach couldn't hold anything. If I even thought of food, I was back in the bathroom. The package from the lingerie store was forgotten by me.

I stayed in bed all day and my wife went out and did whatever those things are that wives do in strange cities when their husbands are hung-over. When she came back to the hotel room that evening, she had no packages. 

I asked, "Did you have fun today?"

She just smiled and nodded.

??????????????????????

I guess now is as good a time to tell you a little about my history. I was born the first child in the family. I guess my parents figured out what they were doing because before long I was the oldest of five children. My mother and father were loving parents. They were middle class and we lived in a middle class neighborhood. My Dad's father was a factory worker and his mother was a stay at home mom. 

My Mother's parents owned a Bar and Grill. They were in a factory district bordering on a middle class residential area. They had the best of both worlds, factory workers eating their breakfast, lunch and dinner there during the week while the residential folks kept the weekend hopping. 

I spent my early years growing up there,

It all came to an end when my grandfather died of a heart attack and grandmother sold the bar. I guess her heart wasn't into operating it alone. My Dad added an "in-law" apartment to our house and grandma joined our happy family. 

My next historical event was college. This event proved to be the event that shaped my future. I love the place. In high school I was a pretty good student. Not good enough to win scholarships or things, but good enough to graduate in the top 1/3 of the class. Grandma and my Dad came up with the money to get me in the door. The rest was up to me.

I took to the business courses like a fish to water. I was fascinated by the whole process even Economics, my least favorite course. It seems as if we spent weeks studying some concept and when I finally got it down, the professor started teaching up the exact opposite concept the next week. Whew, talked about a screwed up subject. It's no wonder that economists can never agree on a thing.

It was in my senior year that I met Ann; she was a freshman also studying business but having trouble with Accounting. I was a wonder boy with accounting so one of my Profs asked me to tutor her. Ann and I just seemed to hit it off at the beginning. She never really did learn Accounting so she switched to Law. 

I, on the other hand, learned that Ann was perfect for me. So I applied for the MBA program, was accepted, and stayed. Ann and I soon became un-separable. It was in her third year that I moved off campus into a small furnished apartment so I could gain the quiet that an MBA candidate required. 

Ann moved in two weeks later. We both learned about sex together. 

When graduation day finally arrived, I received my MBA and a few job offers. Ann was accepted at a law school. We moved to the city were her law school was located. She registered and I got a job. Together we got an apartment. 

The company I got a job with was an old established firm in the equipment business. I worked hard to succeed there, but it was not to be. The management of the company was old school. They were not open to new ideas. If it had succeeded for them for 50 years, why change a thing?

My years of study and my MBA were useless to their management. They just didn't want to change. I was watching the company slowly decrease in value as I worked there. It was years later when I was working for my current employer that I noticed their bankruptcy notice in a business journal. 

Ann threw herself into the study of the Law. She would try out various concepts on me and I slowly learned a lot about the law. Because of my business background, I grabbed the concepts of business law and torts easily. Ann, on the other hand, found family law up her alley. Between the two of us, she graduated.

With her graduation came the offers from small to medium sized law firms to join as a paralegal. Ann graduated fairly high in her class and was invited to join some nice firms. I guess they had a need for people specializing in family law. It could be that the divorce rate in the country was on the way up and specialists in that field were needed. 

We sat together many nights researching the cities, the firms, and my chances of getting a job in that area. We finally decided on Tampa Florida. The law firm was an up and comer specializing in the same areas that Ann had studied and liked. For me, that area of Florida had a lot of startups that needed (my thoughts) my skills. 

We both started making applications for me in the area. Ann was a little upset that I was snatched up by a company after only one interview while it took her three interviews before receiving her offer. She was more than a little miffed when she saw our pay scales; mine was about 25% higher than hers, so much for equal opportunity. 

I started in sales (so much for my MBA), but I loved the whole aspect of the job. I worked with really great people. None of the sales personal were cut throat, or back stabbers. We all managed to work as a team helping each other whenever necessary. 

The customers were fun people to work with. Oh they were typical customers; they wanted the best quality at the cheapest price. And of course they wanted it yesterday. It was fun working with them.

Ann, on the other hand, found out that being on the lowest rung of the legal ladder was not the glamour she thought it would be. As the old saying goes, "Sh..t flows downhill" could not be more appropriate where she was working. Many the nights when she returned home, she was really upset with one or another of the partners or senior members of the firm. She started studying harder and harder towards her Bar Examine; she passed on her first try. 

When her firm did nothing toward elevating her status, she quit. She had already been offered a job with another firm. That firm was just starting out, but it was a Woman led business and had taken off with a bang. 

Ann came onboard with all the benefits of a junior partner. She worked long hours and brought work home with her. She had her mind made up that she would succeed. And succeed she did. It took two years but she was a recognized leader in the divorce field in the area. Most of the opposing male lawyer's referred to her as "The Bitch". While she never admitted it to me, I knew she just loved the title.

My career moved along rapidly. I not only sold, but I was put on assignments that used my skills as an MBA. It was time to take our lives to the next step. We bought a lovely home on the bay. We started throwing parties, joined the country club and basically became yuppies. 

Then it happened. Somehow Ann became pregnant. At first she wasn't sure if mother hood was going to be her thing. But she loved decorating the baby's room, the showers, and all the other things that went with child raising.

She started interviewing Nannies because she was planning on returning to work as soon as she was able. Well no matter how hard she planned, life got in the way. Oh the pregnancy was problem free if you discount the water weight, the swollen feet, the multiple trips to the bathroom to pee, the heart burn and of course those months of morning sickness.

The baby developed normally. The various tests were all perfect and of course the birth was problem free. Ann had a normal labor and delivery. There were no complications or problems. But as I said life got in the way. It was a little life wrapped in a blanket and placed at Ann's breast by a nurse. 

When our daughter started nursing, Ann just stared at her. 

It took about 5 minutes before Ann spoke, "Would you call my office and tell them about Ella's birth. And also tell them I won't be returning. I now have more important things to do."

Three years later our son Christopher joined the three of us. Ella was thrilled that she had a sibling. Ann was now the perfect mother. Ann and I had many discussions about having more children. She wanted a large family but I wanted to stop at the two we already had. Ann tried all her "lawyer" tricks on me, but evidentially I prevailed. 

I had a vasectomy to prevent accidents.

We were the perfect little family. 

??????????????????????

I looked back down at the package on the bed. She had never put the outfit on for me. She said, "I'm saving it for a special occasion."

I sat there on the edge of the bed and started crying.

I guess that that occasion would never happen now.

As I sat there I thought," Never save something for as Special Occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion."

I still think those words changed my life. 

"Now I read more and clean less."

"I sit on the porch without worrying about anything."

"I spend more time with my family and less at work."

"I understand that life should be a source of experience to be lived up to, not survived through."

My thoughts drifted back to those years long past.

??????????????????????

The years since my children's birth seemed to rush past. I worked hard at succeeding in my profession. There were long days and even longer nights were I chose my job over my family.

When my children were small I missed their first steps, I missed their first words. It seemed that there was always a crisis at work. It might have been a problem with a sale or a delivery that required me to put in a few extra hours. Then there were the more serious ones the problems that required me to board a plane and rush to the customer's location.

Ann understood. She didn't yell and shout. She just said, "Hurry back we miss you when you're gone. Oh and yes, I still love you."

I missed birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions at the kid's school over the years. My Ann was still there for me. She knew that even though I was absent, I still missed her and loved her. My kids just thought, "Well that's just Dad."

To soon my kids were in high school and Ann began making noises that she wanted to return to the work place. Her reasoning was that they no longer needed her in their lives. She was bored sitting in the house hour after hour, waiting for the phone to ring.

One day as I was getting ready to leave for my office, I noticed that Ann was dressed in one of her professional outfits. I smiled at her and complemented her on her appearance.

"Thank you," was her only reply.

I guessed that she had an appointment and promptly went back to my own thoughts about my job.

I didn't pay any more attention to her mode of dress. I didn't even notice that there were some nights I beat her home or that dinner was more take out than home made. I guess that one day it was something said by one of the kids that woke me up.

"So Mom, how did it go in court today?"

"I won the case." Was all she said, but it was said with a smile and a proud expression on her face. It was an expression that I had not seen on her face in many years.

From that point on she left for work proud of her skills and accomplishments. She and the kids enjoyed their lives together. Me? I was an outsider looking in.

Ann was always there for the kids. She attended school plays, award ceremonies, and of course their graduations. With me it was hit or miss. Sometimes I would make the event, other times work would prevail. My kids had hardened to my absents over the years that there were no hurt feelings or sad looks. It was like they expected my excuses and were not expecting my attendance anyway.

I guess my wake up moment came when Ella and her current boyfriend pulled up in front of the house with a U-Haul truck. He was helping her to move into her college dorm. Not only was I not asked to help, I didn't even know what college she had selected.

Ann and I helped load the truck and while holding hands, we watched them drive away. Ann promised to give me Ella's new address and phone number. It took two weeks but one morning I found a note in Ann's handwriting. It consisted of an address and phone number. No further comments were written on that piece of note paper.

That year was the one where I was promoted to Senior Vice President and given a seat on the Board of Directors. Ann was in the middle of a very large contract dispute and was out of town when my promotion party was held. Both my kids were also away. I sat at the head table next to an empty chair that was reserved for Ann. I listened to all the speakers speak my praise. I missed my wife.

With my new job came hour and hours of extra time spent in my office, trips to distant company sites to facilitate disputes or inspect operations. I saw less and less of my family. One day I noticed that I had not seen my son lately. Ann informed me that he had left for college a month ago while I was on an inspection tour. 

"I didn't bother to give you his new address and phone number since you never used Ella's."

That year I was determined to make up for all my many absentness's to my family over the Christmas holidays. I put all the work on my secretary. She bought everyone gifts, arranged to have the house, both inside and outside, decorated in holiday fare. 

I spent that Christmas alone. The kids had arranged to spend the holiday at friend's parent's homes, and Ann decided to work on something in New York because she didn't want to spend the holidays alone. 

It was the worst Christmas of my life. I just sat there and drank myself into a stupor. 

I spent the remainder of the holiday taking down decorations, tossing out the tree, and giving the presents to a battered woman's shelter. It was during those days that I made a resolution to turn my life around and try to reconnect with my family.

I started with the kids. I first called Ella and inquired how her holidays went. I didn't know who her friend was or what his parent's names were, so I faked it. Ella was not dumb and caught on to me very quickly during the phone call. She set me up and then dropped the hammer. I was never so embarrassed in my life. And then she laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"Got ya, Dad," was all she said. 

We talked for the better part of the next two hours. She caught me up on everything. She was even expecting to get engaged before graduation in spring. And did I think it was possible for me to attend her graduation. She was graduating at the top of her class.

Not only did I accept, but I asked if it was possible to visit her at school and meet her intended. 

We set a date and time. She asked if I could bring her mother.

Ann and I were like two ships passing in the night by them. We never really interacted anymore so I left her a note. Her reply cut me to the quick, 

"Dan,

I'll be in New York that week. I'll fly down that morning, join you guys for the day, and return to NYC that evening.

Ann"

That day I told my secretary to put the trip on my calendar, "And don't let anyone or anything interfere with my trip to my daughters."

I gave her all the details and asked her if she could arrange the trip through our travel people. Then I promptly forgot all about the trip. 

A week before the trip was scheduled, my girl Friday dropped off the itinerary on my desk. A moment of panic ran through my body. I needed some new clothes, new luggage, a haircut, etc. 

My secretary cranked up her phone skills and before I knew it there was a tailor in my office taking measurements, and an appointment at a day spa for the full treatment. When the time came to leave I had my new suitcase packed with brand new stuff and a limo waiting in the driveway.




Remembering



There was an envelope with my name on it on the rear seat. In it I found my schedule. The limo took me to the private side of the airport where there was a Lear Jet waiting for me. I had never traveled in the corporate jet before even for business. Once I flew with the CEO in the jet to a hurriedly scheduled meeting in DC. But I never suspected that I could use it for business let alone personal travel.

When I was seated the pilot handed me a note from my boss, the CEO. 

"Dan,

Please enjoy your weekend with your family. 

You have devoted too much of the time you should have spent with them, to business. Because of your dedication, I want you to take all the time necessary to heal the rift in your family life.

I have left orders that you are not to be disturbed.

Jason"

My daughter and her boyfriend met us at the airport. They were typical college students with no money. So of course they drove a VW bus. There they stood at the private side of the airport when my jet landed. The pilot pulled the jet up next to the bus and stopped. 

When the engines stopped, the ground crew took over. The jets door was opened and I was escorted off as if I was a visiting prince. The kids just stood there with their mouths hanging open as my luggage was off loaded and put in their van.

I walked over to my daughter and picked her up so her feet were off the ground and gave her a hug and a fatherly kiss. She then introduced me to a very impressed Todd. I could tell by the expression on her face and her possessive stance that this was "the one".

With his jaw inches from the ground he pointed at the jet and asked, "That yours?"

"No, it is a Company plane. The CEO normally uses it but he extended it to me for the weekend. Want a quick tour?"

I thought he'd hurt himself he was nodding so violently. I walked him over to the pilot and introduced them. Todd was given the "cooks" tour of the plane. When he came back down the steps I could tell he was impressed. 

My daughter had stood at my side the entire time. I was her Daddy and she was showing me off. Once Todd returned to us, Ella wrapped herself around him and said, "Now do you believe me? See I do have a Dad and he's very powerful. So you'd better watch out."

Ella turned and started use walking to the VW. It was typical college student transportation. It was around 8 years old, had various rust spots and added dents. They opened the sliding door and helped me in as if I was an invalid. I'm surprised they didn't fasten my seat belt. 

When they started the bug up it affirmed my suspicions about being a typical college student method of transportation, it needed a muffler.

I told them the name of the hotel my reservations were for. They knew the place. It was the only 5 star in town. When we pulled up at the valet station in front of the hotel, the VW got dirty looks. I handed the attendant a $50 and asked him to unload my luggage and park the bus.

He looked at the denomination of the bill, "YES, SIR" was his reply.

The bell Captain escorted us to the desk where after stating my name, I was handed a card key and escorted to the elevators. There was a special elevator for the penthouse apartments. The Bell Captain showed us how to insert the key card to call the elevator. There were only two buttons on the control panel, "One for up and one for down." 

I asked it the kids could be given key cards and out of some hidden pocket he produced two more key cards. A quick phone conversation on his cell and the cards were activated.

He asked the kids to each try their cards on the suit door to assure that they worked. 

They worked. 

The travel department had out done themselves. The suite was the best the hotel offered. It had three bedrooms, three baths, a living room, dining room, a meeting room, and a very large balcony overlooking the city lights. I was impressed, Todd and Ella just stood there with their mouths hanging open. The suite just screamed opulence. About that time my luggage arrived, there was a butler who took over and started unpacking.

I reached into my pocket for my money clip but the Bell Captain stopped me, "Gratuities are not expected. All our services are included with your bill. Is there anything else you need?"

I looked at my daughter and asked, "Do you know when your mother is arriving?"

She rattled off the time, airline, and flight number.

"I'll arrange for our car and driver to pick her up at the airport and bring her here," the Captain answered.

The four of us had a great time. We took the kids out shopping for some new outfits and some new furniture for the little one bedroom apartment they shared. That evening we all got dressed up and enjoyed some fine dining at the hotel. The kids were impressed.

I had great plans for that night before Ann announced that she was taking the red eye back to NYC. The three of us accompanied her to the airport. Ann gave me a little hug and a kiss on the cheek before getting on the plane.

My Bell Captain had found a car dealer that was willing to open up for me to make a sale on a Sunday, a"closed" day. After breakfast I steered the kids to the dealership and as promised, the owner was awaiting us. He showed the kids everything he had in inventory and they all agreed on a nice SUV that fit the kid's life style and my safety and reliability requirements.

I wrote a check for the entire cost, with the promise that he would have the vehicle in the kid's hands no later than Tuesday. He needed Monday to transfer the registration and insurance to the new vehicle. He didn't charge me any delivery, pickup (the VW), or the difference in registration or insurance costs. I guess he felt generous because I paid the sticker price for the new car.

That afternoon (thankfully) I had my last ride in the VW. The kids were taking me back to the airport so I could catch my ride back home. I promised to "keep in touch" and not be such a stranger. I was decided that I would meet Todd's parents as soon as it could be arranged.

Well it took almost another month for all the schedules to align. But it was decided that I would pick up Ella and Todd at their school and fly to Todd's parent's farm. I checked in with my boss and found I was free for at least a long weekend and so was the jet. 

Jason just smiled at me when he approved the schedule.

The Friday of our long weekend slowly arrived. When the pilot landed to pick up the kids, we found them sitting on the luggage in front of the hanger I had last arrived at. One of the ground crew whispered something the pilot and he just broke up laughing. Later the pilot told me that the kids had arrived an hour early and just sat in front of that hanger. They were offered a warm comfortable lounge to wait in, but they refused. They didn't want to take the chance of missing me (or maybe it was the plane ride).

Anyway we in the air about 45 minutes, Todd's eyes reflected his amazement with the comfort and opulence of the jet. Ella sat next to me and proceeded to instruct me all about Todd's folks. They were "gentlemen" farmers. They had about 500 acres, a hundred were fenced for horses and the rest grew feed for the stock. It seemed that Todd's parents were horse breeders. The raised some of the finest horse flesh this side of Kentucky. 

Ella informed me that they had a small runway that our pilot, after looking up its specification, declared perfect for our plane. Todd's parents were waiting for us as the plane touched down. 

We had a great weekend there. Ann was not able to attend because she had a trial or something to prepare for starting on Monday. She had met the parents before and felt she was not needed there.

The next time we all got together was for Todd and Ella's wedding. We held it in September in my town. Ella and Todd felt that it was easier for all the invited guests to reach. By now I had a large suburban mansion on a five acre lot. It was a fitting location and domicile for the President of a major corporation. Yeah, all my hard work paid off big time.

Todd's family stayed with us, the wedding was held among bunches of flowers at "the" best church in town, with a reception for 500 at the country club.

Ann and Ella went all out. It's the only time your only daughter gets married, and I guess the girls wanted to show off, and showoff they did.

Time passed, and life went on. I went back to my "job" and soon replaced Jason when he retired at the mandatory 65. I was voted his successor as CEO. Now was the time of my life that I could enjoy the fruits of all those years of hard work.

There was only one problem, Ann. She too has risen to the top of her field. Only she couldn't stop working. She was always meeting clients in faraway places or locking herself in her study, pouring over reports, briefs or depositions. 

I was home almost every evening for dinner. Ann wasn't. She was a prisoner of her fame and power. I was 55 years old and very lonely. Most nights I could be found in the club at the bar. Too many nights I slept in the club because I was too drunk to drive. 

Life at the top wasn't all it was made out to be.

One Sunday in September, I found myself with Ann sitting by our pool enjoying a beautiful fall day.

She reached over and took my hand saying, "Dan, the years have conspired to keep us apart for to many years. First, it was your ambition to climb the corporate ladder. Then it was my turn. I got so involved in the practice of law that I just didn't take any 'us' time. Can we start over again and work on 'us'?"

"I love you Ann with all my heart. Let's patch the differences between us and just enjoy each other again."

She smiled that special smile. We spent the rest of the afternoon getting "reacquainted" in the master bedroom.

As darkness fell Ann said, "I have one more meeting in NYC next week at the World Trade Center on September 11. That will be my last business trip."

It was too.

Every year they read the name of my Ann along with all the others lost on that terrible day. I still don't attend the ceremonies because it still hurts.

My motto for life should have been for all those past years:

Use the crystal glasses every day...

Wear new clothes to go to the supermarket, if I feel like it.

If it's worth seeing, listening or doing, I want to see, listen or do it now....

Each day, each hour, each minute, is special.

Live for today, for tomorrow is promised to no-one.

The words 'Someday....' and ' One Day...' are fading away from my dictionary.

I put the box back on the shelf. Damn I miss her.



Remembering



I remember that night almost better than any other in my life. I don't know what came over me, what possessed me to stop by his apartment so late. Anyone could have been there, but that's not what I was thinking about. I was too busy thinking about him, what he would feel like under my hands. That's not what I told him, of course, when he opened the door. Ulterior motives are the most fun. Of course, now whenever I let the memory run through my mind, it happens all over again, like an erotic movie that's sure to get me off. I love to remember...

He opens the door and asks me in. "Wait a second while I turn off the computer," he says. 

I follow him to the computer desk and stand behind him as he logs off the Internet. I lean down and gently nip his ear. I feel his entire body stiffen at the motion, I have caught him so off guard. I move down his neck, kissing and lightly biting. He tries to stand and I place my hands on his shoulders to hold him still. I move back to his ear, remembering how badly it teased him that last time, almost a year ago, and knowing how much more he'd want. He groans, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. I love it when a guy makes those primal noises. It's so... animalistic. Wanting. Erotic. 

I step back and allow him to stand. He immediately comes towards me, backing me up against the wall. 

"You're a bad little girl, you know that?" 

I can only nod my agreement before his mouth attacks mine. I feel his tongue in my mouth, and I moan, wondering what else he can do with it. He pulls my shirt up and over my head, not even pausing before he moves his mouth to my neck. I can feel how hard he is as he's pressed against me. I begin to unbutton his shirt, and he stops my hands so he can do it himself. I'm apparently not going fast enough. I take the time to unhook my bra, and I let it fall to the floor. His eyes widen slightly. 

"I want you," I whisper as I kiss him, pushing his shirt off of his back. He comes back at me full force, running his hands down my back to cup my ass and pull me even closer to him.

We move to the couch in the living room. I push him down onto it and straddle his lap. I've gotten so wet, so sensitive, I can feel his heartbeat through his cock as it strains at his jeans. I feel decidedly evil, and I rock myself against him. I'm only able to do it three times before he flips my over so I'm on the couch and he's standing between my knees. My jeans and underwear come off in one easy tug from him, and suddenly I'm sitting there naked save for a smile. He narrows his eyes at me, and I know he's wondering what I'm smiling about. 

"Nothing," I say, before he can ask. 

"I'll give you something to smile about..." His voice is so deep with lust he's almost growling. All I can do is raise an eyebrow.

I sit forward and hook my finger into the waistband of his jeans and pull him to me. The very tip of my tongue comes out of my mouth, and I ever so lightly lick right at his waistband, every now and again dipping my tongue a little lower. He's shaking, he's so tense now, and it takes all the self-control I have not to strip him and ride him right then. But I have to tease him a little first. It's no fun unless the anticipation is way up there.

I unbutton his jeans, and so, so slowly unzip them. I trail my tongue down behind the lowering zipper, even dragging it over his boxers, letting him feel my breath through the thin cotton. 

"Jesus, girl," he whispers. I almost giggle to myself for having him so on edge. 

His jeans drop to the floor and he steps out of them then kicks them away. Now it's just his boxers separating his cock and my mouth. I slowly pull down his boxers, watching his face the entire time. His half-lidded eyes give me a warning: Either I stop my teasing, or he's taking over. I just smile up at him, and pull his boxers the rest of the way down. His dick is pushing towards me, bobbing with each beat of his heart. 

Suddenly I can't wait to taste him. I need to have him in my mouth. I run my tongue up the under side of his shaft before encircling the head with my lips and pushing my mouth down his length. I pull back and run my tongue all over his dick, wetting it to make it easier. I push down again and he goes all the way down my throat. His hands entwine themselves in my hair. I push down, and pull back, slowly at first then gaining a little speed, one hand simultaneously jerking him off, the other hand gently massaging his balls. It's easy to know what he wants, what he likes. He's responsive, groaning and gasping every now and again. After minutes of laving his cock with my tongue he stops me, telling me I'm pushing him too far. I push him a little farther, running my tongue down the underside again, all the way to his sac before taking one ball into my mouth then moving to the other. I stop then, noticing how his grip in my hair has tightened a little bit. 

I look up at him and he's breathing hard. I know I've gotten to him pretty badly. He pushes me back gently, so I'm laying back into the couch. He kneels before me and just drives his face into my pussy. I gasp. It feels so damned good. He grabs my hips with his hands and pulls me forward more, so my ass is hanging off of the couch. I can feel everything, from his tongue thrusting as deeply as he can manage, to his thumb lightly rubbing my clit, making it harder. I'm so close at this point. I can't help it, but I lift my hips to him, silently begging him to give me the release my body needs. I try to restrain myself from pushing my pussy into his mouth, but my hips seem to do it of their own accord. 

He moves his mouth up and takes my clit into his mouth, sucking at the hardened nub. I push forward more now, begging for just a little more pressure. I'm moaning uncontrollably. I know the neighbors can hear me but I'm beyond caring. All I care about is his mouth and how close I am. He moves one hand off of my hip, and pushes two fingers into me. He curls them, making the 'come hither' motion and rubbing perfectly on my G-spot, and that's all I need. I scream with my orgasm, gasping his name and drenching his face with my come. 

He slowly kisses his way back up my stomach and chest, pausing at each nipple while I catch my breath. I sit up and say, "Now, I have to have you in me now." He kisses me hard and we stand and stumble our way back to the bedroom. He lays me down on my back, and positions himself between my thighs. He's in the teasing mood now, I can tell by the smirk on his face. He slides just the head of his cock in me, leaving it there, watching the frustration play across my face as I wait for him to push further. He slides another inch, then another, so slowly I'm about to scream with impatience. Finally he's all the way in, and he slides slowly back out. When he slips just the head in again, I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him into me as hard as I can. I can't wait while he plays with me. I need him now. 

He holds himself completely still for a moment while he regains his self-control. 

"Hard," I whisper to him. "I want you to fuck me. Nothing soft."

I know my words grab his attention. He smiles, and this time when he pulls back he slams back into me with such force I throw my head back with ecstasy. We continue like that, him slamming into me and me lifting my hips to meet his with every thrust. I come again, hard, and I know he's holding back his own orgasm. I want him to come, and I know exactly how to make it happen. 

"Wait," I tell him.

I push him off of me and get up on all fours. Our shared favourite position: doggy style. I hear him growl his contentment with this, my offered ass and pussy. He grabs my hips, and pushes into me hard. I grip the sheets beneath me so hard my knuckles turn white. He slides in and out of me at a wicked pace. Each time he thrusts forward he pushes my G-spot and rubs that area right under the head of his cock. I can feel another orgasm coming on and I push it down as long as I can. I want it to be powerful enough to bring him over the edge with me. Finally it gets to the point when I can't bear it any more. I come screaming, my pussy clenching around him with each wave of the orgasm. This does it, this pushes him. He's groans loudly, pushing into me with all of the force he has as he fills me. We both collapse on to the bed, exhausted and sated. 

For the moment, anyway.



Remembering a Dream



I still remember the first time I saw Emily. 

I was in grad school, walking from my almost non-existent office to my car. It was a typical early Spring day in North Carolina -- still a touch chilly, but sunny enough to remind you that Winter had breathed its last. Cutting across the quad, I saw the inevitable Ultimate Frisbee game: guys with their shirts off, chasing the frisbee here and there, girls watching the guys and sunning themselves. I was single, 26, and healthy enough, so of course I took my time looking over the women. 

There's something about that first sunny day in Spring on a college campus. Everyone's been bundled up in coats and sweaters for so long that they can't wait to shuck all those layers and refresh themselves; it's an almost palpable reminder that better days are ahead. And the scenery? Oh my... Just one beautiful woman after another. 

But then, there was Emily. I didn't know her name at the time. All I knew about her was that she existed, and I was silently grateful for that gift. She sat on the grass, wearing some sleeveless sorority t-shirt and shorts. Long, curly, light brown hair. The sort of round face that distinguishes Southern girls from everyone else. Big, big eyes behind glasses. Yeah, I was hooked. 

So, what do you do when the woman you've dreamed of meeting your whole life is sitting 50 yards away from you? Well, if you're me, you stand there for about 15 minutes, pretending to watch the game, but really trying to work up the courage to go talk to her. What if she was surrounded by her sorority sisters, and didn't want to be bothered? What if she was watching her boyfriend play? Can you cope with rejection? 

I couldn't. So, I turned away, and walked the rest of way to my car, cursing myself every step. Five times I nearly turned around, five times I didn't, and five times I muttered under my breath how chickenshit I was. I needed... I needed to clear my head, get away for a bit, and deal. Lucky for me, the apartment was a 10-minute drive away, and there was a fantastic bottle of Bushmills 21-year-old single malt I'd gotten for being in a fraternity brother's wedding the previous month waiting for me. 

When I got home, there was a message on the machine. Seems that the frat had a mixer that night, and would I come? "Okay," I thought, "I'll save the Bushmills for later." Mixers at the house were always fun, even if I was the oldest one there by half a decade. Apparently, I leant an air of respectability to the proceedings. Hmmmmmm. So, I showered, threw on some jeans and a shirt that made me look more like a professional than a grad student, and headed over to help set up. We were a small house, but they told me that a sorority was on its way. I knew what this meant -- a long night of tending bar for me. Eh, no big deal. I didn't have other plans for a Friday night -- I sure wasn't going back to the apartment to work on the dissertation! 

The venerable dean and I cleaned the place up a bit for a couple hours; I think the brothers didn't quite yet have the idea that a cleaner house was more acceptable to the female eye. We'd work on 'em; after all, that's a significant part of what fraternity life is about! Eventually, we heard cars start to pull up, and knew that the ladies were arriving. One last scan for obvious porn -- amazingly, the coast was clear -- and I went to the door. 

And there she was. Emily. She'd done her hair a bit differently for the mixer, shed the glasses, and put on a casual but semi-dressy blouse and jeans. If anything, she looked more radiant than before. I know I was stammering -- what a great role model I was, huh? An eternity later, I finally remembered my manners, and invited them in. Predictably, many of the sisters moved towards the bar. Emily didn't, however. She seemed ... I don't know ... at ease near me? I took her arm and led her to the lounge, where we struck up a conversation. 

Turns out we had pretty similar stories -- she had aged out of the house upon graduation the previous year, but had started business school here and stayed involved as a house advisor. Wait... She was a grad student? So, she and I were more or less contemporaries? Obviously, she was as bright as she was beautiful; the business school here didn't take any dummies. And, somehow... She was as interested in talking with me as I was with her. Was there a spark here? Wasn't it only a couple hours ago when I didn't have the courage to even talk to her? And here I was, asking if she wanted to go for a walk to get away from all the noise? Was this *me*? 

Luckily, it was. Even more luckily, she *did* want to get away from the noise. We snuck out the back door of the house, strolling down to the pond the house overlooked. She shivered a bit, and I took my jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. She took my hand, and we walked like teenagers. Every so often, she'd look into my eyes, and I could see the moonlight reflecting there. Here I was, 26 years old, and acting like a teenager. 

We must have walked and talked half the night away. We shared dreams and hopes. We found a big flat rock on the far side of the pond, and she snuggled against me. I whispered into her ear: "Emily, please tell me I'm not dreaming. I don't know that I could bear it if I was." She turned to me, looked deeply into my eyes, and wordlessly moved her lips to mine. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes seemed like hours. I'd kissed girls before, sure. But this was different. There was something behind it; not passion, not horniness. I was falling in love with her. I could see a future; hopes and dreams fulfilled. 

"Ben, sweetheart, I'm a bit chilly." With that, she took me by the hand and led me back to my car. We drove to my apartment, and I said a silent prayer that I'd cleaned up my place the night before. I know: frat boys and sorority girls are supposed to just fuck. Animalistic, frenzied, energetic. I'd fucked my share of sorority girls; I knew the score. 

But that's not what happened. Instead, for the first time in my life, I made love. We kissed tenderly and passionately. We slowly undressed each other, lingering over every square inch of skin. I learned about her body, where she was sensitive and where she was ticklish. She learned about mine, where she could touch me that would make me moan with delight. I learned what "foreplay" means; we must have caressed and kissed and stroked each other for 2 hours before she climbed on top and lowered herself onto me. And it was electric. Magical. Looking into her eyes as she slowly moved up and down. I wanted the moment to last forever. *I* wanted to last forever! I wanted her to feel as much pleasure as I did. But when I called out that I was close to the edge, she started rolling her hips, urging me closer and closer. 

When I exploded inside her, I saw her eyes flash with surprise and passion, then roll back in her head as she exploded as well. I pulled her down to me, enveloping her in my arms. And it was then that I realized that *this* was the moment I wanted to last forever. This sharing of joy was ... perfect. 

She fell asleep next to me, her head on my shoulder. I just looked at her, watching her sleep all night. When her eyes flickered, I started singing to her, wanting her to know how I felt. I sang an old a cappella song by The Persuasions called "My Home". It ends: "But then there's your face, my dear. I know I'll never be walking alone. The love in your eyes makes it clear, telling my softly: This is my home." She wept with joy, which caused me to shed a tear or thirty. And I knew -- this was a woman I'd dreamed of all my life. And I was so lucky that I'd had that dream come true.



Remembering a Friend



I had noticed Jerry when we first got in band together. It was 7th grade and I had decided to play trombone and our chairs were right next to the trumpet section which is what Jerry played. 

He was similar in stature to myself, tall and lean, but with blonde hair. I had found that we would end up talking and hanging around each other, discussing other classes and activities. I also noticed that we talked about Sex a lot. He would tell how he had gotten this girl to let him feel her up or had seen this girls tits. I told him how I had gotten to see the daughter of my moms hairdressers pussy but that I didn't get to fuck. He said he'd never fucked a girl either but that he'd sure fantasized about it a lot. I told him I had a great collection of Porn Mags and that was my only release so far. 

These kind of conversations had gotten me to thinking about him jacking off and about him fantasizing while doing it. I wondered what he looked like and how big he was. I had never been with a guy or even thought much about it. But now I was starting to wonder what my new friend looked like in the buff. 

I was starting to think about things I had read about how a guy would suck another guy's cock and fuck him in the ass. I found myself beating off and thinking about having Jerry suck my cock. I would think about what his cum would taste like and after I came thinking about this once I came in my hand and tasted it. I didn't think it was great like the people in the stories said but it wasn't bad either. 

Nothing happened between me and Jerry and we just stayed friends. I finally got a girl to go all the way. We did it at my house after school one day and afterwards I felt like there was nothing better in the world. But lingering in the back of my mind was that feeling like I still wanted to try being with a guy, just to see what it was like. 

The first year of High School when we were both 18 we had a band camp that summer. The teacher decided that we should have it at the school instead of going off for a week. I was kind of glad because I lived right across from the school. 

The second day Jerry's ride was going to be late and when he told me this I told him he come just come over and wait at my house. He agreed and called and told his mom that he would call her when he needed her to come pick him up. 

When we got to the house I showed him around and got him a drink. We went to my room and started goofing around. 

Jerry said "Hey Matt you still keep those porn mags?" 

I said "Yea sure you kidding me, that's what keeps me going between girls. "

I reached between my mattresses and pulled out 5-6 mags and threw them on the bed. Jerry picked up one with mostly women posing and started looking. I reached for my favorite, the ones with men and women having sex and actual cumshots in it. Jerry made some comments about how he sure wished some of those girls were here now and I noticed a bulge forming in his pants. I was getting hard too and I shifted to allow more room for growth. 

Jerry said "What's the matter, that one must be good by the way your rearranging yourself." I said it was and showed him the part where the guy was fucking the girl in the ass. He moved over next to me and we started looking at the pages together. I said "I wonder what it feels like fuck an ass?" 

Jerry said "I've heard its tighter than pussy."

Jerry started rubbing his boner through his pants. When we got to the part where the guy blows his load in the girls mouth Jerry said "I got to man I hope you don't mind," and unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick. 

I said, "Man I'm glad you made the first move I think I'm going to explode. " and I pulled off my Shorts and threw them on the floor. 

Jerry kicked his pants and underwear off next to mine and then leaned back and started stroking his cock. As we looked at the magazine I couldn't help but look at his cock. It was about 1/2" longer than mine, 7" or so, and about the same size around, but it curved slightly back towards his belly. 

The head of his cock has more pointed than mine and pre-cum oozed out every time he brought the skin up around the head. 

My balls were hairier but not quite as big but we were close to the same. 

I asked him what is was like to masturbate with his dick curving like that, did it hurt or make it hard to cum. 

Jerry said, "I don't know I've never had any problems cumming so far." He let go of his cock and said "You can feel it if you want it doesn't feel weird. "

I was hesitant but real horny now so I reached over and grasped his cock. It was so Hard and felt great to touch that I started to stroke it. I could feel the ridges slide under my touch as I pulled his skin up and down the shaft. I could feel the heat from his balls when my hand returned on every stroke. My mind raced to the times I had thought of Jerry and tasted my cum. 

I didn't realize for a moment that Jerry had grasped my cock and was stroking it. But I soon realized that I was about to cum. As if reading my mind Jerry said "God it feels so good to have someone else jack me off I think I'm going to cum. " I said I was too and erupted with a orgasm that made my body jerk. As I did I kept pumping Jerry's cock and he shot load after load onto his chest and my hand. 

We both kept stroking each other and went soft in each others hands. I didn't know what to say until Jerry said that was the best he'd cum in a long time maybe ever. I said that I had never had an orgasm feel that good and that it must be having someone do it for you. 

I got up and went to the bathroom and brought back towels to clean up with when I saw Jerry lick his hand. He saw me staring at him and got embarrassed. I said "Hey don't be ashamed I did it once and I think it's natural to explore."

He asked if it was someone else's cum or my own? I told him it was mine and that I had been thinking of what another guy would taste like when I did it. I asked him if that was my cum he was tasting and he said yea that he wanted to see if it tasted like his. I asked if it did and he said that it was similar but a little different. 

He asked if I had tasted his to compare and I said that I hadn't and it was a little late as we had by this time cleaned up. 

I looked as his cock and it was starting to stiffen. This coupled with our talk about cum had me starting to get hard again too. 

I said I had more books that he might like to see. He said to bring them out, and that he'd love to have some good material like this to jackoff to. 

We spread the books out in front of us on the bed and began to look through them and before long we were both stroking ourselves. 

As we turned the pages we came to the back of one book that showed a guy giving another guy head. It was a strange moment because we both looked at each other at the same time. I wanted to reach over and take his cock into my mouth but couldn't move. Luckily I didn't have to as Jerry leaned over and sucked my dick into his mouth. 

It felt wonderful as he reached for the base of my cock and started to stroke it and suck on it. I felt like I wanted to do the same. I told Jerry to lay on his side and as he did I laid down beside him with my face inches from his cock. 

I reached out and grasped his dick and brought my mouth down on the head of it. This was my first taste of another cock and it was great. It felt wonderful in my mouth. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum and the hardness of his flesh was more than I could stand. 

Without warning I started shooting load after load of cum into Jerry's mouth. I could tell he was not expecting it and he pulled my cock from his mouth. 

I kept on sucking his dick and soon felt him tense up. I started to pull his cock from my mouth but instead rammed it as far as I could down my throat. 

Jerry unloaded what felt like gallons of cum into my throat and as I pulled back he emptied more into my mouth. I looked up at Jerry with cum dripping from my mouth and saw that most of mine had dripped onto his chin. Without thinking I reached up and approached his face with mine. 

Jerry seeing this crept closer to me and we kissed. We mingled each others cum in our mouths in a passionate French kiss and held to each other. 

After we broke this bond we just looked at each other knowing that we would explore every avenue available of our sexuality. 

To Be Continued...



Remembering a Newbie



It had been years since I had thought about Cathy. I guess because she was the only one who ever took advantage of me when I was drunk, and she wasn't. Of course, I just drunk and let her take me to bed, then thought better of it the next day. Okay, so maybe my thinking better of it really didn't sink in too deep when I started to remember what had actually happened. 

I knew Cathy through my brother, who had dated her younger sister for a few months. She had gone to high school at the next town up the lake from my hometown. Her school was our archrivals in basketball most years. Cathy had also been in their student council, so I had met her a couple of times. Candidly, I had noticed that she was a moderately attractive girl, slender, maybe a little too much so for my tastes. Still, we had never had any serious connection. She was just a girl from the next town up the road, and the sister of my brother's girlfriend. 

I also knew that Cathy had dropped out of college that past spring, after only a year. That was surprising since she had been the Salutatorian of her high school class. She was certainly bright, just not right or ready for college I guessed. 

From my brother, I also knew that she had hooked up with one of her high school teachers at the end of the summer, just a few months ago, and lost her cherry. I was surprised that she had gone through a year of college, or high school, without having sex with a guy, but I only knew about it because she went off with the teacher, her mother panicked and called every guy she thought Cathy might be with, including me, at 3:00 a.m. Later my brother filled me in since his girlfriend might have suggested that the mom call me. 

A few weeks into the school year, Cathy moved to Ithaca and started dropping by my apartment. That should have been okay. She was nineteen, attractive, a good figure, albeit slender, but still shapely, with brown hair, green eyes and in general All-American girlish good looks. Still, something with her just didn't click for me. She was definitely acting interested in me. I just didn't see it going much of anywhere, not even for a tumble in bed. After a couple of weeks her dropping by whenever she felt like it, I started avoiding her. She was just a girl I wasn't that interested in. 

Until that night when she just happened to show up at the bar where I was drinking with friends. I guess that I was already three sheets to the wind when Cathy walked in with a friend of hers. She walked straight in, not at all surprised to find us there, sat down next to my roommate, Jim, across the table from me, told the waiter that she needed a glass and would share our pitcher of beer. Cathy didn't say much, at least initially. She finished off a beer, poured another and moved around to my side of the table to sit next to me. 

I turned toward her, figuring to be polite at least. She kind of looked at me, kind of tried to look through me for a few seconds, then she said that she knew I wasn't really interested in her, that I had made that clear. I was drunk and wanted to feel good about everything and everybody. I assured her that I thought she was a good person and very attractive. At that moment, she definitely was attractive. She tried some more "poor me" lines, each time I responded with something positive about her. 

It worked. In about five minutes, I had leaned in toward her, trying to make some point. That's when she kissed me. Now remember, I was drunk, happy with the world and suddenly here's this girl kissing me, with her hand just as suddenly resting on my thigh, near the top with fingers lightly caressing me. I guess I responded just like most guys. 

Twenty minutes later, we were back at my place with her on top of me, stripped to the waist and working my cock out of my jeans. She had really nice tits, small, yet firm with great nipples that simply begged to be licked. I knew that because I had already spent several minutes licking them. And sucking them, and feeling them, and simply enjoying both nipples and their feel under my fingers and tongue.

She stroked my cock. I was a little surprised that she didn't start to suck me. Most girls I knew would start sucking cock. Instead, Cathy just stroked me, clearly enjoying having her fingers wrapped around my cock. When she first saw it, she mumbled something about it being bigger than she thought. A couple of times she leaned over, seemingly ready to take it in her mouth, but nothing, not even a little touch of the tongue on my cock. It seemed like she really didn't know how to suck cock, or just wasn't quite sure if she dared to put it in her mouth.

After a few minutes, I was more than ready to fuck her. I wanted it inside her when I came. I quickly held her around her waist, then shifted around so that she was on her back and I was kneeling between her legs. I took a tit in each hand, then lowered myself onto her body so I could suck one nipple then the other. Cathy started to moan. 

After a few minutes sucking her nipples and fondling her tits, I decided it was time to go for home. I raised myself so I could unfasten her jeans. In a few seconds, Cathy was lifting her hips, helping me pull her pants off her hips. As soon as I had her pants off, I dropped them on the floor. I paused for a second, savoring the view. Then I stripped her panties off. 

Again, I paused to enjoy Cathy's nakedness. She shifted a little under my gaze, then spread her legs, giving me a perfect view of her pussy. Her pink pussy lips protruded from between her legs, crowned by the triangle of brown hair. I reached my hand out, gently stroking her pussy. I could feel how wet she was. I slipped a finger inside her. Cathy gasped. I slipped another finger inside her. Cathy started to rhythmically pump her hips as I slipped my fingers in and out of her. She moaned softly as I finger fucked her. 

In another minute I could tell that Cathy was about to come. Her moans were building toward a crescendo. Her breathing was rapid. A warm, pink flush covered her neck, spreading across her chest above her breasts. Both nipples stood out, erect and flushed a deeper red than her chest. Suddenly, Cathy exploded, writhing, thrusting her hips up and down, pushing against my two fingers shoved deep inside her. I could feel her juices flowing out of her cunt. I started to thrust my fingers in and out again, loving the hot, slick, wet feeling of the juices pouring out of her. 

I think that Cathy came twice more in the next few minutes. Maybe it was just one, single long orgasm. Whatever, it was definitely an experience she was enjoying. I could tell that by the moans, the thrashing of her hips, her erect nipples and the flood of juices staining my sheets.

I was still kneeling between her legs, my hard cock sticking up, and so far still not inside Cathy's pussy. I decided it was time to take care of my own satisfaction. First, I wanted a taste of that delightful pussy I was finger fucking.

I spread Cathy's legs, shifting forward a little. I leaned forward. Cathy still had her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath after her last orgasm. I spread her pussy lips open with two fingers, relishing the sight of the dark, little opening I could see between her wet, swollen pink lips. I leaned into Cathy's cunt and licked from that opening up over her clit.

Cathy startled, exclaiming, "Wait, what are you doing?"

I lifted my head from her pussy and looked at her. 

"I'm going to eat you."

"What! No one has ever done that! I'm not sure about it!"

I sat up a little, totally surprised that a girl, any girl that was already naked and who had already came several times would have any objection to getting eaten before getting fucked. Or after getting fucked for that matter. I slipped my fingers inside Cathy again as I looked at her. 

"Relax. I promise you will really enjoy it! Really!"

"I, I, I, uh, no one's ever done that to me! I mean, I never thought you would do that!"

"Okay, I understand."

Some place I read that there are either no lies in sex, or nothing but lies. I don't remember which it was. This was definitely the latter of the two. I didn't understand, not at all. My experience was that girls liked getting oral sex as much as guys like getting oral sex, and guys definitely loved getting oral sex. 

Still if Cathy wasn't sure, I would teach her. I lowered my head then gently opened her slit with my fingers. I slowly licked her clit. I could feel Cathy shudder as I run my tongue up and down across on that little swollen nub. I slipped a finger inside her, feeling for her G-spot. The hot juices were flowing out of her. She was going to be fun to fuck. 

I could feel the raised bumps of her G-spot with my finger. I started to lightly stroke it while continuing to lick her clit. Cathy started to moan.

I ran my tongue down her slit, pulling my fingers out while I tongue fucked her cunt. Suddenly Cathy started to writhe, her hips bucking, her moans filling the room. I could barely keep my tongue in her cunt. I could feel her juices spurting against my tongue, filling my mouth with her flavor. 

As soon as she slowed a little, I moved my tongue back to her clit, and stuck three fingers inside her. I started stroking her G-spot again. Cathy came again almost immediately. 

This time as she slowed, I let her catch her breath. 

"I, I never felt anything like that before! That was amazing!"

"Glad I could help you, now let's try something else."

I shifted forward, opening her pussy lips with one hand, then guiding my cock inside her dripping wet pussy. I slid in half way while still on my knees. Cathy gasped as my cock penetrated her. I pumped my cock in and out a little, only going in about half the length of my cock. I enjoyed the extra sensation on the head of my cock.

"That feels good," she said. "Really good!"

"Pretty much a perfect fit, don't you think?"

Cathy laughed.

"Yeah, perfect, really, really perfect! You feel bigger than the other guy I was with."

"Really? Hmm, does that work for you?"

"Oh yes, it works very, very well."

So only one other guy. That was what I had suspected. Not that it mattered whether it was one other guy or ten or twenty. This was between us, and I didn't care how many or how often she had gotten it. She was going to get it with me.

I shifted so that I was lying on top of her. I had not fully penetrated her yet, still only about half way. I cupped one hand around a breast, gently squeezing a nipple. I wanted to watch her face as I pushed my cock in all the way.

Cathy looked into my eyes, excitement, pleasure and a trace of uncertainty showing on her face. I pushed the entire length of my cock inside her. Her head arched back, her eyes closed tightly, her mouth forming a perfect "O". I pulled back, then thrust forward again, feeling like I was getting deeper than the first time. 

"Oh God!" she moaned. "Oh God! Oh God!"

Cathy must have really enjoyed the feeling of my cock, because in another minute she came again, and again and again. Three more times, in very rapid succession. By then I was building up to, feeling the tension of an orgasm building, and building. I kept riding her, not ready to let myself go yet, enjoying the feeling as she build to another climax, thrusting her hips in rhythm to my thrusts. I got her to come another three times before I finally couldn't hold back any longer. I could feel that it was going to be a massive explosion of hot come. For a brief second it occurred to me that maybe I should have used a condom, something that had not dawned on me until then. Then I burst, spurting hot come inside Cathy. It felt like an unending eruption of semen surging out of me into her pussy. I could feel wetness squirt out of her, trickling down my balls, likely staining the sheets underneath us. It really didn't matter, she'd wanted to get fucked by me, and now she had gotten what she wanted. So had I.  

That was the last time I slept with Cathy. I took her home the next morning, of course, I fucked her twice more during the night and again the next morning before taking her home. I didn't even have to buy her breakfast. She said that she wanted to get home and shower before work. That seemed a good idea, those three other times we had sex that night/morning were just as wet as the first time. It was quite a night, however, I didn't call her afterwards, and she neither called nor came by again. We'd had wild sex, and later I guessed that she had likely had five to ten orgasms each time I fucked her. I never tried to eat her after that first attempt. It simply was too easy to mount her, fuck her, let her come multiple times, then shoot my load inside her. Then a few hours later, finger her, mount her, let her come, then shoot again. 

I didn't hear from Cathy again until about five months later. She showed up one night, late because I was already in bed, with a guy in tow. My roommate answered the door, and called to me that Cathy was there. She looked as good as I remembered. I didn't have to wonder who the guy was for too long, Cathy introduced him as her fiancé, something that surprised me. We talked for a few minutes, then she said that she wanted to talk to me alone and could we go into my room for a few minutes. 

Now that really surprised me. I had no idea what she wanted to talk about, nor why she would want to leave her boyfriend in the living room talking to my roommate. We went into my room. 

"Close the door," Cathy said as we walked in. 

She started to talk about how much she missed me, but how special her fiancé was. I could tell that she was talking just because she really didn't know how I was going to react. So I stepped toward her, holding her in my arms, then kissed her. I slipped my tongue into her mouth, she responded with her tongue. I stepped her back to the bed, unbuttoning her blouse as I walked her backward. As we got to the bed, she put her hand on my chest.

"I shouldn't, he's waiting.."

I responded by stripping my shirt off and throwing it aside. If the boyfriend came in, it would be tough to explain, but nowhere near as tough to explain as what I was intending to do if Cathy let me. I pulled her blouse open, and in a quick move, I unfastened her bra. I didn't try to take her blouse or bra off, I just wanted to taste those sweet tits of hers. Cathy didn't stop me as I licked and sucked her nipples. In fact, she moaned softly. I remembered that moan. I sat her on the edge of the bed, then quickly pulled her pants off. Actually she kept one leg in her pants, still the part of her I wanted quickly no longer had pants covering it. I pulled her panties to one side and slipped two fingers into her cunt. She was soaking wet already. 

I fingered her, knowing that we only had a few minutes at most. The boyfriend would get suspicion, as would my roommate, and I doubted that Jim could keep the guy distracted for more than five minutes or so. Well, maybe Jim could stretch it out to ten minutes if I was lucky twice in the same night.

"God I missed you!" Cathy exclaimed.

I spread her pussy lips as I knelt between her naked thighs. Quickly I slipped two fingers inside her hot, wet pussy opening her so I could slip my tongue into her slit. She did taste good. No salty semen taste, just pure, wet, tasty pussy. I flicked my tongue over her clit. In seconds Cathy moaned.

"I'm going to come!" Cathy moaned softly.

And she did, quickly, quietly (sort of), and then she was done.

"God, I don't know why I'm letting you do this. I'm going to marry him and I really do love him!'

I didn't say anything, I just pushed my hard cock against her dripping cunt. 

"I need you!"

That was all I said, then I pushed my cock deep inside her and started pumping. If the boyfriend burst into the room, we were fucked, literally and figuratively. If he didn't, I knew that I would be filling her pussy in another minute. Usually I took my time, I enjoyed making girls come several times. This time it had to be quick, just as quick as Cathy's orgasm. We didn't have time for a lot. She must have known that as much as I did.

I thrust inside her, driving, surging, pumping as fast as I could. I think that Cathy came again, maybe twice. I really wasn't sure, I was too focused on emptying my balls inside her. As I thrust a few more times, I could feel my intensity skyrocket, I thrust as deep as I could, my cock bumping against her hard cervix I was so deep, then I exploded, filling her with hot semen. I pumped a few more times, all but spent, squeezing the last few drops out. I pushed in one more time, then pulled out. A gush of semen fell out of Cathy as I slipped my cock out.

Cathy looked down at the small puddle. 

"We'd better get dressed. I need to go before he comes in here."

I glanced at the clock next to the bed. We might have taken five or six minutes total from the time we walked into the bedroom. The quickest sex I ever had. 

Cathy had her clothes back on in no time. She even had her blouse tucked in so nothing looked amiss. I pulled my shirt on as she looked in my mirror and made sure that her hair was okay. 

"I guess that's it," she said as I opened the door for her. I could see the boyfriend standing in the living room, still talking to Jim. It looked like he had been about to come down the hall to check on Cathy.

Without a backwards glance, she walked the few feet down the hallway, immediately slipping her hands around his arm to show how attached and in love she was. 

"We should go," she said to him. "Good to see you Jim. Say hi to the other guys for us."

"Sure," Jim answered, "good to see you too. Good luck with the wedding."

Cathy and her fiancé waved to me as they opened the door and left.

"Okay, tell me what just happened?" Jim said as soon as he knew they were gone.

"Not a lot, we just needed to get some closure on something. At least I think that's what she needed from me."

"You're sure about that."

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain that we left things the way she wanted, and that's okay with me."

"Okay, want to go out for a drink or two?"

"Naw, I feeling tired. Besides I have an early class tomorrow."

And that was it. I did hear from Cathy once more after that. She and her husband had moved to Connecticut for his new job. She was pregnant, expecting in a few months. I actually did the math in my head real quick, but it was at least eleven months since I had seen her, so I wished her well and said that I hoped she was happy. Cathy seemed to hesitate for a second before she responded. We said our goodbyes and then it really was the last time I talked to her.



Remembering Ava



Thank you to raconteuse for editing, advice, encouragement and more.



It will be nine months, tomorrow.

Nine months since Ava passed.

She was 83 years old when breast cancer took her.

By the end, that lively (at times, almost fierce) spirit of hers took a beating.

So, when she finally surrendered the fight, it was something of a mercy.

I won't try to tell you how much I miss her. 

I couldn't anyway.

That language hasn't been fashioned yet.

What I will do is introduce you to her. The Ava I first encountered, unbowed by time or disease.

*****

In May of 1956, I had just graduated from the School of Industrial Art in New York. It's moved since then and changed its name, but it was (and still is, as far as I know) a high school for training commercial artists. I wanted to be, of all things, a newspaper comic strip artist, which was a tough row to hoe for a female back then.

Upon graduating, Mr. Dylan, one of my favorite teachers, had arranged for me to apprentice with an acquaintance of his. Her name was Ava Parker and she was a freelancer for several New York comic book publishers. It wasn't exactly the sort of prestigious newspaper venue that I aspired to, but as Mr. Dylan had said, "Everybody's gotta start somewhere". Besides, he had assured me that she was very good at her job and would provide an excellent springboard for the career I wanted to pursue. 

When I initially voiced some hesitation at the arrangement, Mr. Dylan put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, "I have tremendous faith in your abilities. You've got talent to spare. All you need now are the skills and polish to match. Believe me, Miss Parker will see that you get those."

To prepare me for the interview, Mr. Dylan told me a little about the artist before I went to see her. "So long as you give her your best effort, you couldn't ask for an easier person to get along with. She takes a lot of pride in her work and she'll insist that you do the same. But knowing you", he touched his index finger affectionately beneath my chin, "I don't anticipate any problems on that score."

"By the way", Mr. Dylan went on, "Miss Parker is a pioneer in more ways than one. Not only is she one of the few females currently working in comics, she's also one of the only negroes in the business. You've gotta have a special brand of single-mindedness to persevere through some of the crap she's had to put up with."

I am ashamed to admit that upon hearing that information, I felt a hint of trepidation. You see, I had grown up in a small village on the lower Wisconsin River. Almost everyone there was of German ancestry and the few who weren't were certainly not colored. In the short time since my family had moved to New York I had little time for socializing and none of that had brought me into contact with any of that race. Those of you reading this in the 21st century may find it difficult to believe that any of us were so insulated back then. Just remember that this was decades before the Internet and in the small town I was from, most of us listened to the radio regularly, but only a couple of families had television sets.

I was somewhat intimidated by my ignorance. Even though I felt like a complete hayseed, I voiced my apprehension to Mr. Dylan. He laughed in response. Not a caustic, condescending snicker, but a warm chuckle. "Don't worry, Stephanie. You don't need any special knowledge. Miss Parker will have you feeling like an old friend in no time flat. Besides, she'll keep you too busy to worry about anything. Just don't forget your old teacher when you're a famous cartoonist."

This is how I found myself at the entrance of a five-story walk-up on a beautiful spring morning in the lower east side of Manhattan. The building was an old, but well-kept brownstone row house and her apartment studio was on the third floor. 

Before I knocked on her door, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. I was still quite shy back then and this would be my first job interview ever. I desperately wanted this to go well. "Okay...", I thought, "here goes nothing".

When Miss Parker opened the door, my first glimpse of her took me completely by surprise. I knew she had been a professional cartoonist for a number of years, so I hadn't expected anyone so young. She couldn't possibly have been thirty yet. She was also the most breathtakingly beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, before or since.

Her eyes were what snared your attention first. Large and expressive, they were shaded by long lashes and glittered with a lively intelligence. The irises were amber flecked with gold. Above them, her eyebrows were not plucked and redrawn into the artificial arches so popular then, but were natural, full and gently curving. Her skin was a light golden brown unadorned with make-up. The symmetrical slopes and planes of her visage seemed designed especially to seduce the eye into lingering there. 

This was a face on which nature had lavished exceptional care. It was framed by a dark, lustrous mane which she had pulled out of her way into a pony tail, though a few stray tresses draped across her brow. 

As if my astonishment at her loveliness was not yet complete, she upped the ante by smiling. A smile that suffused those already breathtaking features with a warmth and kindness that had me liking her instantly. Extending her hand in my direction, she said, "You must be Miss Kendall. I'm Ava. Won't you please come in?"

The apartment had no foyer, so stepping through the entrance put me directly into the living room. It was simply, but neatly furnished. Miss Parker gestured toward the sofa and asked me to have a seat. "Please excuse the state I'm in. I've got a job that's due the day after tomorrow and I'm a little frazzled."

The state she's in? Did she mean her attire? Miss Parker had on an untucked blue plaid men's shirt and dungarees. But she filled that plain garb with voluptuous curves that would've made a movie star envious. 

A closer inspection revealed ink stains on her hands, blouse and slacks. Maybe that's what she was referring to, though it's hardly surprising to find such smudges on an artist at work.

Seating herself in an armchair that was diagonal to the couch, Miss Parker clasped her hands under her chin and looked directly into my eyes. "I realize that this was supposed to be an interview for a job as my assistant. But, I find myself in a bit of a pickle and I wonder if you'd be willing to give me a hand?"

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, do you think you could dive right in today? If you could do background inking, panel borders, filling in black areas and erasing, it would be a great help. Paul... that is, your Mr. Dylan, showed me some samples of your work and I know you're more than capable. Otherwise, I don't see how I'll make this deadline. What do you say?"

I stood up and gestured down at my clothes, "Well, I came dressed for an interview, not..." Before I finished, Miss Parker chimed in, "Not to worry. I've got some things you can wear. I'm a little taller than you, so they won't fit perfectly, but there's nobody here except us, and we'll be too focused on getting the job done to care much."

'Won't fit perfectly'? Now, there was a hell of an understatement. Don't get me wrong. I had a good figure, but I couldn't come close to filling out the simple shirt and overalls she gave me the way she did. But, as she had pointed out, who was gonna see me?

Miss Parker's apartment had two bedrooms, the second of which, while it did have a bed, served primarily as her studio. It contained two drawing tables that faced each other, both with an adjacent taboret for art supplies. She sat me down at one of them and handed me a small stack of original comic book pages in various stages of completion. Some were simply rough layouts in which figures, backgrounds and word balloons were only sketched in to suggest the panel compositions, but none of the details were yet nailed down. Others were tightly rendered pencil drawings with completed lettering and some or all of the main figures inked.

Sometime in the 1960's, the size of the original comic art gradually switched to one and a half times the size of the printed page. But, in '56 nearly everyone was still working twice up and the artist, if he or she was so inclined, really had the room to do detailed linework. And, believe me, Miss Parker was definitely so inclined. The quality of her line was lively, fluid and graceful. There was also a bravura quality that I found somewhat intimidating. I wondered how the hell I was ever supposed to match this kind of skill, spirit and sheer daring.

Miss Parker leaned over my shoulder as she pointed to the pages, giving instructions. I found her nearness oddly distracting. First of all, there was her fragrance. No perfume, I think, just her natural scent combined with whatever soap and shampoo she used. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderfully fresh and alluring.

There was also the matter of having such loveliness so close at hand. I had to resist the temptation to turn and look at her with a more leisurely gaze, giving my eyes time to tarry on the details. But that would've been weird and rude at such close proximity. I became annoyed with myself for acting like a starstruck schoolgirl when I needed to be focused on the task at hand. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I wondered.

Thank God, I did manage to pull myself together and pay close attention to the rest of her directions. When she was done, Miss Parker (I guess I should refer to her as Ava from here on out, because she told me that's what she preferred) sat down at the other table and we spent the next several hours there in relative silence interrupted only by my occasional questions.

Each of my queries was answered patiently, clearly and concisely. At one point, Miss Par... I mean Ava... came around behind me to observe while I was inking a page. While I was in school, I usually preferred to work with a brush, but Ava had asked me to use a crow quill pen to try to match the style of the pages she'd already inked. After watching me for a few moments, Ava told me "Don't be afraid of that pen, sweetie. You're not gonna hurt it."

"I didn't want to break the nib or spatter ink everywhere."

"Let me sit there for a moment." She took the pen from my hand. "You're moving the pen slowly, carefully... never varying the pressure you're putting on the nib. The result is exacting, but dull." 

Ava dipped the pen into the India ink, then made a mark on scrap paper to get rid of the excess ink. After that, with a quick swipe of the pen, she began a thin delicate stroke which morphed into a bold and voluptuous thing that might have been made with a brush. "Do you see how much force I brought to bear here?" Ava interjected. "Don't fret about the nib. It can take a lot more than you're likely willing to dish out." The line became slender again as it made a roughly ninety degree turn and then curved faintly and widened slightly. "Varying the line weight can suggest form and volume." I watched in astonishment as a beautifully rendered human arm began to appear on the paper. The grace and variety of the strokes she used was a revelation!

When she was done, Ava stood up and handed me the pen. "I know we're on a tight deadline, but I want you to spend at least half an hour with scrap paper and this nib. I want you to attack that paper. No timidity whatsoever. Find out what this pen is capable of. Loops, dashes, cross-hatching, feathering, thin to thick and back again. Really test it."

I began to think that Mr. Dylan had been right. Ava was going to be an excellent teacher.

In fact, the art she had me working on was instructional in and of itself. Aside from the brilliant linework, about which I've already sung praises, her compositions were fresh and dynamic and the panel-to-panel transitions were clear and fluid. Her figure work was never limited to stock poses, but consisted of believable, well-observed postures and gestures that always enhanced the dialogue. Miss Parker later told me she thought of this as 'acting with a pencil'.

If this was the kind of work she turned out in a hurry, I couldn't wait to see what she could do when she had more time.

My thoughts... and the room's stillness... were eventually disturbed by a long, low growling which emanated from the vicinity of my tummy. I grinned sheepishly at Ava over the top edge of the drawing table, "Sorry. I haven't eaten since lunch."

A stricken look troubled Ava's lovely features, "Oh, honey, I'm the one who should be sorry. I can't believe I was so thoughtless."

Rising from her table, Ava moved to the room's doorway, "Do you like spaghetti?"

"Yes, ma'am. I..."

"'Yes, ma'am'? How old do you think I am?" Before I could answer, she continued, "That was rhetorical, sweetheart. Relax. Remember... it's just Ava; not Miss Parker and certainly not ma'am.

"Yes, ma'a... I... I mean... okay. Oh, gosh! I'm so sorry. It's just that my parents really drilled this stuff into me. Everything was 'sir' or 'ma'am'. They were pretty strict and kind of old-fashioned. They definitely stressed how important it was for me to respect my el..." I blushed and covered my face with my hands. "I should just stop talking now."

Through my fingers, I could see Ava cock her hips jauntily with her arms akimbo. "Well, Stephanie, once you've hit bottom, there's really no point in continuing to dig."

"Now", she went on, "that we've established that you're okay with spaghetti, do you enjoy broccoli, as well?"

"Yes, m..." I caught myself, yet again, then sputtered, "Yes. Just plain 'yes'."

Ava laughed and headed off to the kitchen. I continued working on the pages she'd given me while the clatter of pots and pans and, eventually, a heavenly aroma, wafted from the kitchen.

Ava called for me to come eat and showed me where the washroom was. In the dining room, I sat down to a sumptuous plate of spaghetti in marinara sauce, broccoli and garlic bread. After I'd said my grace, I noticed Ava watching me with curiosity in her eyes. "Are you Catholic?"

I caught myself this time before uttering the forbidden response and simply mumbled, "Mmm-hmm." which was easier with my mouth full anyway. After I'd swallowed, I asked, "How about you?"

"Well, I was raised Catholic, but I guess it didn't stick."

"What faith are you, then?" I asked naively.

"Truth is," she answered between mouthfuls, "I never could find much use for faith."

I digested this in silence, thinking of the Freethinkers Society back in my hometown. My mom had always been suspicious and disdainful of them, but I remembered several of their number as good-hearted people.

The meal Ava prepared was delicious and provided a gracious means for me to change the subject.

"The sauce on this spaghetti... it's a-MAY-zing! Where on earth did you learn to cook like this?"

At my praise, another of those breathtaking smiles lit her features. "My pop. He was a carpenter when the depression hit. Things got so bad that white men couldn't find work, so there sure as hell wasn't any he could find. Well, dad was orphaned at a young age and raised by an Italian family that were friends with his folks. Pop always said that Mama Agostina was a genius in the kitchen and she taught him everything she knew."

"When work in carpentry dried up, he applied for anything he could get. All he could find were short, temporary jobs. Eventually though, he landed a spot as a chef in an Italian restaurant. Do you know how good (and how lucky) a colored man had to be to get something like that?" Ava spoke with obvious pride.

After many twists and turns, our conversation wound its way to our working arrangements. She was pleased with the work I'd done so far, but she warned me that the hours were long and the pay was low. She did point out, however, that both of her previous assistants had moved on to freelance careers of their own. One of them, in fact, had landed a syndicated newspaper strip of his own, which, for those of you who don't know, was a much more lucrative and prestigious field than comic books.

"Have you ever thought of going to the syndicates?" I wondered aloud.

"The money's good." she admitted. Our meal over, Ava began to clear the table. "But, I've ghosted a few times for newspaper guys who were sick or had some other kind of deadline crunch, and I didn't care for it much. The size restrictions are just too claustrophobic. I got into this business 'cause I love to tell stories with pictures, but there's just no elbow room in the paper. I don't know how you're supposed to spin a decent yarn in just three panels a day."

I was impressed. I knew that Ava had been working in the field for nearly ten years and yet, somehow, she hadn't lost her idealism. It occurred to me how fortunate I was that Mr. Dylan has recommended me for this job.

While scrubbing our dinner dishes, Ava asked, "Where do you live?"

"Hmmm? Oh... with my parents in Queens. Why?"

"Well, it's gotten pretty late. I'd hate for you to try to catch a bus or ride the subway alone at this hour. Why don't you take the spare bed in the studio room? There's no bath, but you can shower and I've got spare clean pajamas."

"Thanks. I'd definitely prefer that to traipsing around out there at this hour."

"You'd better give your folks a call and let them know where you are. No sense worrying them sick over nothing."

When I finished my shower and exited the bathroom in Ava's ill-fitting PJ's, I found her back at the drawing board.

She heard me in the doorway and looked up, "Oh. If you're ready for bed, I'll get out of your way."

"No, thank you. The shower woke me up a bit. Maybe I can get a little more done as well."

Ava gave a grateful smile and lowered her head to draw again, "The deadlines are always awful, but this is worse than usual. When I went in to work on Monday to pick up my check and a new script, the editor was crying the blues because one of his regular pencilers had left him in the lurch. I let him talk me into taking an extra script home. So, now I've gotta get two stories done in the time it usually takes me to finish one." Ava wagged her pen at me in mock admonishment, "Don't follow my example. Make sure you're not anyone's doormat. Learn to say 'No'."

A couple of hours later, I was yawning for the tenth time in as many minutes. I told Ava, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I've got another brush stroke in me."

"No need to apologize, sweetie. I'm truly grateful for all the hours you've already put in. This is way above the call of duty, especially since we hadn't even come to a formal arrangement when I asked for your help. I should be able to get this in on time now without turning in a really crap job. Thank you."

"Glad I could lend a hand." I cleaned my brushes and tidied my work area a bit before shambling over to plop down on the double-bed.

"Will it keep you awake if I continue working for a while longer?"

I gave her a bleary-eyed smile, "I don't think anything could stop me from sleeping at this point. But, aren't you exhausted, too?"

"Not really. I often work the whole night through and go to bed around seven or eight in the morning. I do some of my best work between one and five when the world is still and there's very little to distract me."

Crawling under the blanket, I turned my back on the swing-arm drafting lamp that illuminated her toil. A momentous yawn mushroomed in the middle of my, "Good night" and, before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

I woke the next morning, momentarily disoriented by the strange surroundings. When I remembered where I was, I noticed that Ava had thoughtfully closed the blinds and shut the curtains so that the early sunlight wouldn't disturb my rest. A truly mouth-watering aroma had made its way under the closed door of the room. That and a healthy morning appetite inspired my quick exit from bed.




Remembering Ava



Both bedrooms and the bathroom were in the back of the apartment. The doorways opened into a short, narrow hallway which delivered you to a dining room on the right and a kitchen on the left. The dining room led into the living room with no dividing wall. I found Ava placing two full plates on the dining room table. She looked up at me and smiled, "Good morning, sleepyhead." I returned her greeting and was struck anew by her startling loveliness. It took a conscious effort on my part not to gawk like some adoring fan at a movie star. 

Moving back into the kitchen, Ava spoke over her shoulder, "I won't ask how your night was. I just came out of there a half an hour ago and you hardly stirred the entire time I was working."

"Oh my gosh! You haven't been to bed yet!?"

"Nope. I told you, the middle of the night's my favorite time to work. But believe me, once I get some chow in me, I'm gonna grab a quick shower and I will definitely get some shuteye." Ava pored steaming water from a kettle into a ceramic mug. "I'm gonna have some tea with my breakfast. Want some or would you rather have some OJ or water?"

I opted for the tea, which Ava brought to the table and then sat down near me. Just as last night, the food was delicious and I told her so. "I'm amazed any of your previous assistants could bear to leave this behind." 

Ava smiled at my praise, "It's all part of my insidious plan to keep you from wandering too far from the drawing board."

As I ate, my eyes kept wandering back to her face. The singular beauty of her features seduced my gaze into lingering for longer and longer until she couldn't help but notice.

"Have I got ink or something on my face?"

"N-no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just that... I mean... um.. well... I-I've never seen anyone so beautiful before." I blushed with embarrassment at how childish that sounded.

Ava reddened slightly herself and seemed pleasantly surprised at the compliment. 

I responded, "That must've been odd to hear from another female, but I'm guessing guys must tell you all the time how gorgeous you are."

Ava blushed again. "When I first got into this business, I worked in a couple of different bullpens. And, yeah, some of the guys did lay it on a bit thick, but I never took it too much to heart. Not after seeing what wolves they were. Some of them would hit on anything in a skirt. So, it was easy to keep my ego from getting too puffed up by their attentions."

"Nowadays", Ava went on, "as a freelancer, I spend so much time to myself that I don't hear too many compliments or complaints from anybody. So, your appreciation is more than welcome."

Rising from the table, Ava began to gather our dishes. "It's long past my nap-time, sweetie. If you've got more work in you, you're more than welcome to stay here, but please don't feel obligated. I understand if you want to get out for fresh air or check in at home."

"No, no. After the sleep and the food, I'm ready to go again."

"Great." Ava's lips curved again into that unforgettable smile. "I need to do some grocery shopping later, but there are plenty of fixings for sandwiches in the fridge when you get hungry again. There's also juice and water and some fresh fruit on the kitchen counter. Please make yourself at home."

"If you hit a snag", Ava continued, "just move onto something else until after I'm up again. I'll see you in a few hours." With that, she wiggled her fingers and headed back to the bedroom adjacent to the studio.

*****

Over the next several weeks, I gradually changed my schedule to match Ava's. She never insisted on it; it just happened. Like Ava, I came to enjoy the stillness at two in the morning. 

The penciling part of the job takes pretty intense concentration. That's the phase in which you're figuring out the page layout, the panel compositions, the figure placement, the lighting, etc. We never talked much while working on that. But, we often had lively conversations while we passed the pages back and forth for inking or lettering. The late hours afforded fewer opportunities for me to get home to see my folks. I spent the night at the studio more and more often, sleeping in the spare bed during the day. 

Drawing is usually a lonely occupation, so I truly came to appreciate Ava's companionship. 

I couldn't believe how much I learned about the craft in such a short time. My skills were progressing in leaps and bounds under Ava's tutelage. 

Since I was around the apartment so much during my off hours, Ava and I were also spending a great deal of our free time together. We went out to the movies at least once a week, often making it a Sunday ritual. The minute we exited the theater, we'd excitedly discuss what the director and cinematographer had done. They used many of the same visual storytelling techniques that we did. Closeups, long shots, establishing shots, framing devices - all the same. So, our weekly excursions were as educational as they were entertaining. 

She'd also take me to museums and to probably every used bookstore in and around Manhattan, which, back then, was saying something! In those old bookshops, Ava opened my eyes to the master book and magazine illustrators of the teens, twenties, thirties and forties.

I can still remember the first time she introduced me to the work of Joseph Clement Coll. I actually got goosebumps! He had a confidence, a skill...no, a mastery that was almost angelic.

"I know these crazy deadlines don't leave you with much time to call your own," Ava told me, "but whenever you get the chance, you should experiment with other media. Oils, watercolors, pastels, anything that strikes your fancy. It's always good to have as many arrows in your quiver as possible."

"I don't mean to discourage you," Ava continued, "but newspaper strips are harder and harder to come by. For one thing, the number of papers is slowly, but surely dwindling. And even if you do get your own feature, who's to say you'll want to do that for the rest of your life? Magazine illustration is dying and illustrated books for adults are just about non-existent now, but there are still children's books and advertising work to be had. You don't want to limit yourself to just pen and ink."

As if to show me that she practiced what she preached, over the next couple of months I began to find a few watercolor paintings by Ava around the studio. They were all the same size and several of them featured recurring characters. This made me think they were illustrations for something specific, instead of random paintings done just for practice. I was curious, but figured she'd tell me about them when she was ready. I also wondered when the hell she was finding time to do them? I was there with her in the studio nearly all the time, it seemed. Did the woman never sleep?

*****

I had been with Ava for about three months when my late night debacle happened. It had been a brutal, steamy day in the apartment. We didn't have air-conditioning and actually had to wrap terry cloth around our forearms to keep the sweat from ruining the pages we were working on. The heat and humidity had been so enervating that we quit around midnight and turned in early. 

A couple of hours later, I was awakened from my sleep with a terrifying crash.

The day's sultriness had resulted in a truly spectacular thunderstorm. 

I have had a mortal dread of thunderstorms since I was a child. I'd never outgrown it. A fact made abundantly clear with the next flash of light, which was followed by that awful hesitation... then a shattering burst of sound. A burst which shook the entire building.

Fear trumped humiliation and I made a beeline for Ava's room.

I hesitated in her doorway, unsure of what to do or say, when Ava rose up on her elbows and asked, "What's wrong, honey?"

Before I could answer, another explosion rattled the air. I screamed and dived for Ava's bed.

Pulling the covers over my head, I babbled, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! Oh God, I know it's stupid, but can I stay in here until it passes?"

I can only imagine Ava's consternation when a full-grown woman came vaulting into her bed in the middle of the night, sobbing like a small child.

But, God bless Ava and her kind heart, she took me in her arms without a moment's hesitation and did her best to soothe me. She made gentle shushing sounds in my ear while one of her hands stroked my hair and the other caressed my back. With me wrapped in her embrace, she couldn't help but notice that I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Ava said nothing of this. In retrospect, I realize she took great pains not to embarrass me.

When another blast of light lit the room like the sun, it was quickly followed by a detonation that rattled the building again. I screamed.

Ava held me tighter. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm right here. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

Her voice, her hands, her warm embrace carried me through the storm.

When the tempest passed into distant rumblings, Ava whispered, "You can stay in here if you want."

"Thank you." I turned over, facing away from her. Ava snuggled up behind me and put her arms around me again. After the enervating heat of the day followed by the adrenalin rush of the storm, I was exhausted. The voice, the hands, the embrace that had carried me through the storm, now gentled me to sleep.

When I awoke in Ava's arms the next morning, it took me a moment to realize what I was doing there. Then, memories of the previous night came flooding back. I tried to extricate myself from her arms without waking her, but as soon as I stirred, it roused her. I got out of the bed quickly and said, "I'm sorry I woke you."

Glancing at the clock on her night table, Ava answered, "That's okay. Past time I was up, anyway." Ava looked up at me and I looked down. I was too ashamed to meet her gaze. 

"You okay, Stephanie? You get enough sleep?"

"Yes, thank you." My eyes were still cast down at my dithering hands, as if they were the most fascinating things I'd ever seen. "I'm really sorry about last night. I hope I didn't..."

"Stephanie."

"Yes?"

"Look at me, please."

I complied and in the midst of my embarrassment, the incongruous thought flitted through my head, "My God, she's gorgeous!"

She lay on her side, propped up on one elbow. Early morning sun streamed through the window, burnishing that resplendent complexion of hers. 

Ava's voice pulled me out of my near mesmerization. "Are you embarrassed about what happened last night?"

I looked away from her, squinting into a haze of sunlight from the window. "Yes." 

"Don't be. Please."

I didn't know what to say. 

You can't simply tell someone not to be embarrassed. 

You either are or you aren't. 

I most decidedly was.

Ava spoke again, "The first year or so after I broke into the business, I worked in a bullpen. I was the only colored person and the only female. No one ever treated me badly, but I never quite fit in either. It's like they handled me with kid gloves... as if they were afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing."

"When I started getting enough steady assignments of my own, it made sense to freelance. So, I rented this apartment and set it up as a studio. Freelancing is lonely work, though. It seems like the only time I ever had any human contact is when I went in to pick up scripts and drop off art."

"Eventually," Ava went on, "the workload became too much for me to handle on my own. I hired an assistant who was recommended to me by one of my editors. He was a disaster. He was competent enough, I suppose, but it quickly became apparent that he resented working for a female, especially a female who was also a negro. So, that only lasted about three months before he hightailed it out of here."

"My second assistant came to me the same way you did, by way of Paul, your teacher, Mr. Dylan. Paul and I went to school together and got to be good friends. I don't know if you know this, but Paul is a pretty good comic book artist himself. Paul's problem, though, was he couldn't hack the deadlines. He was just too slow to make a decent living at it. So, he turned to teaching instead."

"Well, anyway, Geoff, the fellow Paul sent me, worked out just fine. He learned quickly and was a hard worker."

Ava got out of bed, stood on tip-toe and raised her arms upward in a back-arching stretch, groaning with the effort. She had on no sexy lingerie - just plain, flannel pajamas, and yet they did little to conceal the undeniably feminine figure beneath.

"Geoff was with me for two years. Being a painfully shy fellow, he didn't provide much in the way of companionship, but he did get the job done - and done well." Ava crossed the room to where I was. Putting her hands on my shoulders, she looked into my eyes with a disconcerting directness. "After a while, though, I ran into the same problem with Geoff that I expect I'll have with you before long."

"Problem? What's wrong?"

Ava chuckled and, with a surprisingly intimate gesture, she placed her hand on the side of my face. "Talent, hon," she chuckled again. "You're too capable to remain an apprentice for very long. I'm pretty sure you're ready to handle assignments of your own right now. I just wanted to ease you into it so the transition wouldn't be too jarring. When you're starting out on your own, those tight deadlines can be panic inducing. I figured it would be easier if you first encountered that while you're still here, so that I can provide backup in case you get into a jam."

"While I'm still here?" I repeated stupidly. "Does that mean... " I felt a physical pang at the thought that I might be leaving soon. I'd been so happy with our arrangement... so fond of Ava...

"We'll talk about that later. I seem to have wandered from my initial point, though, which was how much I've enjoyed having you here. As I said before, freelancing is lonesome work. I used to spend some of my spare time with Paul. He never seemed to give a damn about my color and he was a lot of fun to be around. Smart, funny, thoughtful. But after he got married, it became clear that his wife wasn't crazy about him spending so much time with another female."

"I'd actually gotten used to being on my own, again," Ava continued, "until you got here." She absent-mindedly brushed my hair back behind my ear with her fingers. "I'd become so wrapped up in my work, that I hadn't realized how lonely I was."

"I don't mean to harp on this and I hope I don't sound whiny, but when you're a negro working in a business where everyone else is white, you're always wondering where you stand... how you fit in. Sometimes it's just a feeling in the back of your mind, other times it's very much in the forefront of your thoughts. Unfortunately, to some degree, you're gonna find this out first hand. You may not be colored, but you are a woman, and the old boy's club doesn't exactly roll out the red carpet for females either."

"Since you've been here, that's all kinda faded into the background. It's been such a relief to be with someone who was at ease with me and with whom I could let my hair down too. If I haven't properly said thank you for being such a good friend, shame on me. But, I'm telling you now, it is very much appreciated."

I was momentarily at a loss for words. It was such an open, generous thing to say. How do you respond to that?

Before I could answer, Ava laughed, "That's my rambling, windy way of saying I don't give a damn about your fear of thunderstorms and don't you dare to be embarrassed on my account."

She took me in her arms and squeezed me tight. Her soft chuckle was in my ear, "You think you're the only one with fears? Get in line, sister. Get in line."

I pulled away so that I could look Ava in the eye when I asked, "Speaking of fears, what was that you said earlier about handling assignments of my own? Are you already plotting my departure?"

"Come with me." Ava took my hand and led me from her bedroom into the studio. She opened the top draw of her taboret, withdrew a stapled sheaf of papers and handed them to me, saying, "It's yours if you want it."

'It' was a script for an 8-page western comic book story.

"What do you mean, it's mine?" I wondered aloud.

"The full job... pencils, inks and letters... I think you're ready to leave the nest and fly on your own. What do you think?"

A shiver of excitement flitted through me. "I'm pretty sure I can do it, but what about you? I mean, I don't think I can get this done at the same time as I'm assisting you."

Ava's face lit with one of those luminous smiles. "If things play out the way I hope they do, I won't be needing an assistant anymore."

My excitement quickly transmogrified into a dizzying brew of fear and disappointment. This must have been evident from my expression, because Ava hurriedly assured me, "No, no, I'm definitely not trying to get rid of you. Quite the opposite."

"Here," Ava pulled her chair back from her drawing table and gestured toward it, "why don't you have a seat while I see if I can't explain my harebrained scheme. Keep in mind," she cautioned with a wag of her forefinger, "this whole thing is dependent upon a number of 'ifs'. Ready?"

I nodded my assent.

"Okay. You've noticed the watercolors I've had laying out to dry in the studio?"

Another nod from me.

"I'm amazed you haven't asked me about those. Weren't you the least bit curious?"

"I was dying to ask, but I didn't want to pry."

Ava put her hands on her hips and gave me a mock glower, "Stephanie, dear heart, if it's you, it's never prying."

"Next time, I'll ask. I promise."

"Good. Now, where were we? Oh yeah... the watercolors. Honey, you know how much I love comics, right?" 

Yet another affirming nod from me.

"Well, if the deadlines weren't so odious and the production values so poor, I'd spend the rest of my life doing them. There's a wonderful variety of genres to explore and if this was an ideal world, there'd be an endless diversity of approaches to them. Just think, if the publishers used better paper and printing processes, you could do stories in pastel, oil, watercolor, charcoal... whatever the needs of that particular story."

"What's worse is the pay is so poor," Ava went on, "you have to bang out stories at a dizzying rate of speed just to make a buck. So, there's no time to really consider innovation with page layout, panel transitions, lettering... with every aspect of the craft. You're too busy just trying to get the job done." 

"Eventually it grinds you down and you become a hack. Well, that's not why I became an artist. Remember all those illustrators I've been showing you?... Booth, Coll, Cornwell... those guys all found ways to take work for hire and use it as a vehicle to express themselves. To my mind, their best work is no less legitimate than the stuff you see hanging in art galleries. The crazy distinction that critics make between the best commercial art and fine art is completely artificial."

Ava's eyes flashed and her gestures became more animated as she continued her thesis. "Somehow, though, comics became the red headed stepchild of commercial art, in much the same way that the pulps did in literature. The disrespect is pervasive... from the publishers on down to the editors, the writers, the artists and the audience. But, think about it. Comics are just words combined with pictures. Isn't that what movies are? Yet, no one suggests that movies can't be art. Well, any subject matter you can handle in the movies, you can deal with in comics. History, biography, drama, comedy, romance... it doesn't matter. It's just a matter of how lofty your aim is." 

I found myself getting caught up in the excitement of Ava's ideas and her expression of them.

"In fact," Ava leaned forward, adding emphasis to her words, "comics have many advantages over film. Chief among them is that they aren't bound by the limitations of the camera. Think of someone like Van Gogh applying himself to visual narrative! Can you imagine?" Ava took my hands in hers as if she could transmit the concepts by touch.




Remembering Ava



But then, after a moment, the light left her eyes and she sagged back into the chair. "But nobody ever seems to see it that way. They look at me like I'm crazy. Not just the publishers and the editors, but even other artists. 'Comics ain't art, kid... just cheap, disposable entertainment.' That's the refrain I always hear. Well, I'm tired of banging my head against the wall. Enough already."

Ava leaned forward, elbows propped on her legs with her hands clasped. "Like I've said before, magazines are dying out and the ones that are left are all turning to photography for the ads and story illustrations. Illustrated books are pretty much a thing of the past too, except..." and here, she pointed her index finger to underscore, "children's books. Believe it or not, that seems to be the one venue left where an illustrator can get away with some kind of personal expression."

Ava returned to her taboret, reaching into the top drawer again. Out came another stapled stack of white typewriter paper. She dropped the papers onto the drawing board where I was sitting. "That," Ava said, "is a completed script. I've finished three paintings and I've got preliminary drawings for the rest. That should be enough to shop around. Now, here's where the 'ifs' come in."

Ava extended her fingers as if she could shape the air into ideas made tangible. "IF I can break into the children's books market... and IF you can meet regular deadlines on comic book scripts of your own... how would you feel about getting a studio together?"

"What's wrong with this place?" I asked.

"Sweetie, don't you want a room of your own... a place to put your stuff? In fact," Ava looked down at the studio floor, "there's no reason you couldn't get a place of your own, if that's what you'd prefer. I know several editors who'll be happy to keep you as busy as you can stand. You shouldn't have any problem meeting the rent"

"It's just that... well, I was kinda hoping..." she looked up at me as if she'd made up her mind to come to the point without further evasion, "I've loved having you here with me, Stephanie. I've come to care about you more than I can probably say. With both of us earning regular income, I hoped we could get a bigger place. A bedroom for each of us and a third room for a studio."

"But, I just realized how selfish I was being. For all I know, you might be aching for privacy... a place to yourself. And I'd certainly understand, if that's the case."

Ava looked at me expectantly, and then realizing that's what she was doing, she quickly said, "I don't expect you to decide now. I mean, I know I've given you a lot to think about..."

I jumped up from my chair, feeling as if electricity were running through my veins. "Ava... there's really nothing to think about. Wow! If I haven't made it evident - being here, learning from you, just having your company every day - has meant the world to me! Why on Earth would I want that to end?" I pulled her up from her chair and wrapped my arms around her. "Thank you... thank you... for thinking of all this. For thinking of me."

Ava squeezed me tightly and said, simply, "My pleasure."

I stepped back from her embrace, my hands still on her arms. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed. "This is gonna be great! I can't wait to read this script of yours! Let me see it!"

*****

Personally and professionally, the next several months were among the most exciting of my life. They were also exhausting. Believe it or not, comics are probably the most demanding aspect of commercial art I have ever attempted, and I say this now, after a fifty-year career in the field. With illustration, whether it's a book cover, an advertisement, an album cover or a magazine article, you can focus all of your energy, talent and skill on a single image. With comic books, you have to do that five to eight times a page for anywhere from 8 pages to thirty pages. And most importantly, you have to make it flow visually. The story is all in the script, but HOW the story is told is up to the artist. There are so many things to consider - panel transitions, page layouts, panel compositions, anatomy, drapery, costuming, expression, posture, gesture, lighting, perspective, architecture - and when you're just starting out, you struggle with all of those things. Drawing and redrawing. Your eraser is your best friend. 

Well, no. That's not right. Clearly, Ava was my best friend. As Mr. Dylan had predicted, I couldn't have asked for a better teacher. But, it also turned out I couldn't have asked for a better companion. She guided me, cajoled me and cheered me on. All this, while she toiled daily (and nightly) on her own project. Ava had hired an agent to shop her book around and in short order she had penned a contract with a major publisher. 

I was proud that she often asked for my advice and criticism as she worked. Despite the difference in our ages and experience, it was obvious that she was not merely patronizing me, but genuinely interested in my counsel. That respect was more precious to me than gold. More than once, when she set down a piece for me to critique, she'd say, "Remember, right now, I don't need a friend; I don't need an admirer. I need a critical eye, an editor." I was able to be of help because even the best artists can get too close to their work and stop seeing it objectively. A fresh eye can find the mistakes and weak spots or simply suggest ways to strengthen a piece.

During those heady days, Ava and I spent nearly all of our waking hours together. We also continued spending most of our rare free time together, neither seeming to tire of the other's company. Ava's wit, intelligence and kindness drew me to her more each day. The only unhappiness I felt during that time was self-inflicted. It was also an unhappiness that I kept strictly to myself.

It was during that time that I began to have thoughts and feelings that disturbed me. As I've mentioned, I was fascinated with Ava's physical beauty from the first. The more time we spent with each other, the more that fascination laced and tangled with the deepening affection I felt for her. On the rare occasions we were apart, I found myself almost aching for her return. Whenever we were in especially close proximity, I felt my pulse quicken and was aware of a pull - an almost irresistible desire to be closer still.

Do I even need to tell you how 'interesting' my dream life became during that period? My sleeping reveries became more disquieting as their intensity increased.

I did everything I could to hide these things from Ava. Not only did I not want her to know, I was ashamed to know it myself. I wondered what was wrong with me.

You see, the context, then, was entirely different. At that time, homosexuality was considered an aberration, a perversion. People were openly fired from their jobs if they were found out or even suspected. Hell, they performed lobotomies on some, so as to 'cure' their disease! The atmosphere was so outrageous it must sound as if I'm making it up, but sadly, you have only to do your research and you'll see everything I've said is true... and more.

While I was aware of those sentiments, it doesn't mean I blindly accepted them. Shame didn't come to me without a fight. Ava was smart, kind, generous and breathtakingly beautiful. I reminded myself of those qualities while I wrestled with my feelings. Why shouldn't I want her? Why is it wrong? And most importantly... what would Ava think?

In the months since I'd first come to her, Ava had worked diligently to overcome my natural reticence. She made me realize that I was bright enough to make valuable contributions in many situations. As she put it, "It would be selfish to keep your insight and intelligence to yourself. So Share, dammit!" And little by little, I did just that.

There were some slight physical manifestations of my increasing confidence. I began hugging Ava at the least provocation. I also tended to touch her more often, placing my hand on her arm or back as we spoke. If it made her uncomfortable, she gave no sign.. In fact, she grew more demonstrative herself.

Yes, Ava had brought me out of my shell. In 1956, I don't think the phrase 'unintended consequences' had been coined yet, but that doesn't mean the concept didn't exist. An idea began to form in my mind. An idea centered on Christmas. An idea that required great courage.

As December approached, Ava and I were both doing well professionally. The final pages of her book had been turned in, approved and it was put on the publishing schedule for early spring. I was getting all the work I could handle from several different editors and enjoying working in a number of genres. I could see my skills progressing at a rapid pace.

In the months leading up to Christmas, I had been making the rounds of New York's used book stores, slowly filling in the holes in Ava's magazine collection. She was crazy for the illustrators who appeared in "Colliers", "Woman's Home Companion" and "Ladies' Home Journal" during the teens, twenties and thirties. I had been stashing them at my parents' house so that she wouldn't find them before Christmas.

"I suppose you'll be spending Christmas with your folks?" Ava asked as we decorated the small tree in our living room. I finished the strand of tinsel I'd been hanging and peered around the branches of the tree so I could read her expression. "No", I answered, "I was hoping to share it with you."

Ava placed a homemade ornament on a branch and looked back at me. "I'd like that too, but I don't want my Pop to spend the holiday by himself." Ava's mom had passed away several years before.

I guess I didn't hide my disappointment well enough, because Ava quickly continued, "I won't be there late, though. Would you mind if we gave each other our gifts in the evening? I promise the day after, I'm all yours. And to make up for missing Christmas dinner with you, I'll cook whatever menu your majesty requests. We'll have our own holiday then. Okay?"

I smiled and nodded happily at the compromise.

I spent Christmas day with my parents in Queens. It was good to see them and I had a lovely time, but I must admit, my thoughts did wander in search of Ava far too often. I was also having serious misgivings about an 'idea' I'd been obsessing about for the last several months.

Before I left for Ava's, I wrapped her present. I'd been buying the magazines here and there, one or two at a time over the course of several months and stupidly failed to anticipate just how heavy the box would be. The magazines from the early part of the century were thick, tall and wide. Cumulatively, they were more than I could handle on the subway, so Daddy gave me a ride back to Ava's. A dusting of snow covered the city and a light flurry was still falling.

It was almost seven o'clock when I turned the key to the apartment. It was ridiculous how giddy I felt. As I opened the door, I wondered if Ava could hear how loudly my heart was beating.

She must've heard the key in the lock because she was waiting for me when the door swung wide. She stood by the sofa with her hands behind her back. Her amber eyes looked unwaveringly at me and her lips curved into a room-lighting smile. 

Stepping towards me, Ava brought one of her hands from behind her to brush snowflakes from my hair. Her nearness warmed through me, bringing with it that familiar ache. The ache, the yearning, the wanting that had haunted my waking and sleeping alike.

When Ava's other hand appeared it held a gift-wrapped package. It was flat, rectangular and about 8 1/2" by 11". She held it out to me with a "Merry Christmas" while she did the impossible and upped the wattage of her smile.

I handed her my gift as she buckled her knees and groaned to exaggerate the effect of its weight. We both sat down on the sofa and I waited while Ava unwrapped her gift. I wanted to see her reaction. 

It was worth waiting for. 

Her face shone with such genuine pleasure upon seeing the contents of the box, that she looked like a little girl at her first Christmas. "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" she gushed. She started flipping through the magazines, obviously torn between her haste to see the pictures and her desire not to rip the pages. "Oh my God! Look at this Gruger!" she'd exclaim, holding the magazine open in my direction. Seconds later she'd burble again, thrusting another visual treasure at me.

Much to my delight, she went on for several minutes like this before she realized I hadn't opened my gift. "C'mon! You got to see me completely lose my cool, now I wanna see if mine hits the spot too."

I looked down and realized that the wrapping paper on her gift was homemade. There was a drawing of the uppermost branches of a Christmas tree on top of which stood a stylized but recognizable caricature of me with wings sprouting from my back and a halo over my head. Underneath the image, Ava had written in a lovely cursive style, "For my angel".

You may laugh, but I actually got choked up at that. And Ava did laugh at the care I took to undo her wrapping. There was no way I was gonna do harm to that precious image. 

When I got the paper undone, I found myself looking at a homemade comic book done in a more cartoonish mode than I was used to seeing from Ava. "The Adventures Of Stephanie" was calligraphed elaborately at the top of the cover. Underneath was an image of me, asleep in bed.

I gave Ava a look of exaggerated suspicion before she cajoled me, "C'mon! C'mon! Read it!"

The first interior page began with a panel showing the exterior of our apartment building. The next panel showed the two of us at our drawing boards with exaggerated sweat drops flying from our brows. An angry, anthropomorphized sun shook its fist at us just outside the window. The caption read, "Our heroines toil mightily despite the inhospitable climate." The following shot was from the same angle, only now the leering sun had its arms raised in victory while Ava and I had devolved into animated puddles at the base of our tables. The heading this time said, "Can it be that the dastardly villain has won!?" Next up was "Only for now. Our girls retreat to fight another day." 

The next several panels show the two human puddles making their way to their respective beds. Following this were wordless shots of the two of us back in our normal forms and fast asleep. "Apparently, the weather gods are not done with our champions yet." In this scene, I'm still sleeping, but outside my window you can see surly storm clouds approaching in the distance. Subsequently, the reader sees a closeup of the lead thunderhead, face twisted in rage and a lightning bolt in its raised hand. 

The bolt is hurled and the scene cuts to inside my room again. The flash of light outside illuminates me upright in my bed. I have the covers pulled up so most of my face is hidden which emphasizes the way Ava has drawn my eyes bulging and my hair standing on end. Another blast shows the room shaking and me leaping out of bed with a wonderfully exaggerated terror. A giant, cartoonish "Boom!" is superimposed on the image. 

The next shot is a closeup of me, absolute panic written on my features. It's wonderful how she managed to capture my likeness while caricaturing it so outrageously. I smiled up at Ava, "I never realized you were so cruel." 

"Three months ago, I wouldn't have done this. But, I figure I've toughened you up enough to take it. Besides, I'm not exaggerating that much."

"Fine. Fine. Take a girl's most embarrassing moment and capture it for posterity. Thank you very much, dear heart."

I continued with the story. Now Ava had me in the doorway of her bedroom, frenzied eyes still protruding, panic sweat flying and tears streaming down my face. Following that, from the same angle, Ava rose up in her bed with a confused look on her face. Her word balloon said, "What in the world?" I was still in her doorway, but now I had taken the exaggerated pose of the stereotypical cartoon diver, hands together, knees bent, getting ready to make my somersault.

The next panel was elongated across the full width of the page. Ava had drawn multiple figures of me, first leaping from the doorway, tucking into a tight ball, spinning, and then landing on her bed. In mid-air, a word balloon emanated from my spinning figure with the screaming letters, "SAVE ME, AVA!" Ava had drawn herself as a single figure, still in bed, watching my antics with astonishment.

The rest of the comic was along the same lines, portraying Ava as the cool, calm heroine rescuing the fear-addled Stephanie from the terrors of the storm. At one particularly outrageous lampoon, I looked up at Ava and paraphrased a famous line from the McCarthy hearings, "Have you no sense of decency, madame?"

Ava simply returned an impish smile and stuck her tongue out at me.

However silly the comic was, it was also obviously the result of a great deal of work. The drawings were energetic, but carefully and lovingly drawn. This was no slapdash effort. It suddenly occurred to me how busy Ava had been with her book and helping me with my work. "Ava, when did you have time to do this?"

Ava smiled, "Oh, whenever I could. Sometimes, I'd stay up a little later than you, just so I could get some of it done. Little by little it added up. This past week or so, I got in a bit of a panic 'cause I didn't think I was gonna get the damn thing finished in time. But... there it is."

After a moment's hesitation, she asked shyly, "Do you like it?"

"No... I ADORE it. Oh, Ava, this is the most exquisite gift anyone's ever given me. Thank you."

I rose from the sofa, taking Ava's hands in mine to pull her up with me. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her close and whispered, "Thank you," again.

With an extra squeeze, Ava replied, "You're welcome, sweetheart. I just wanted to make you smile." Pulling back from my embrace slightly so she could look at my face, she added, "Looks like it worked."

It was mildly annoying having my bulky winter coat on to interfere with our clinch. I suddenly remembered, "Um, Ava? I... I uh, have something else for you." I tried to master the quaver in my voice. I had a curious, lightheaded feeling, as though my emotions had taken flight and had, as yet, found no proper place to land.

Reaching into my coat pocket, my fingers found the sprig, pulled it out and raised it above our heads. Ava looked up at the green leaves and white berries with a rapid succession of expressions; first puzzlement, then recognition, then surprise.

With that last look still widening her eyes, she returned her gaze to me. I leaned in and captured her lips with mine. Months of apprehension and yearning filled me in an almost unendurable rush.

For the briefest instant, so brief, in fact, that it may have been my imagination, it seemed that Ava returned my kiss.

Then, she stepped away from me, confusion writ large on her features. Her eyes were unfocused, or rather focused, perhaps, on some inner struggle. For a moment, Ava stood there, as if considering the implications of what I'd done.

She still had not looked me in the eye again, when she turned and quickly strode out of the living room, past the dining room and kitchen through the corridor and back to her own room. With the briefest glance back at me, Ava closed the door behind her.

What had I done?

Had I just ruined everything?

The stupid, useless longing to undo the last few moments was overwhelming.

I hurried back to Ava's room only to find her door was locked.

"Ava?"

I pressed my ear to the door. No answer. No sound at all.

"Ava? Please."

Silence, still.

I slid down and crumpled into a heap at the foot of her door. 

I began to cry. 

To cry without restraint.

Great, convulsive sobs.

The door opened and Ava stood above me. My vision was blurred so I couldn't read her expression.




Remembering Ava



"Why are you crying?"

"Because I've spoiled everything! I'm so sorry, Ava. Pleasepleaseplease forgive me!"

"What are you sorry for?"

I tried wiping away the tears, but I still couldn't recognize the look on her face. Ava knelt down beside me and said, "A better question would be, 'why did you do it?' Why did you kiss me, Stephanie?"

There was no lie that could rescue me. 

My two hands pressed firmly against the wooden floor beneath them. I bent my head to look at them. With a vague, disconnected surprise, I noted how many tears had pooled on the floor around my fingers. Fresh drops spattered beside them. I didn't look up. I couldn't bear to see the revulsion in her face as I spoke, "I kissed you because I love you, Ava. I've been head over heels for... well, for months now. I've been holding the idea of that kiss inside me for so long... dreamed of it, meditated on it, prayed on it, cherished it... until I HAD to make it real." Almost it seemed as if the words were being spoken for me, that some gentle insistence was urging me on, prompting me beyond my own volition.

"I tried hiding it." I wept, "I couldn't. Please, forgive me."

Ava's fingers slipped under my chin and gently raised my head. The thumb of her other hand brushed some of the tears from my cheek. 

The amber and gold of her eyes glittered with tears of her own. "There's nothing to forgive." Her voice was husky with emotion. "I felt... no, I feel the same."

I'm sure the look of shock on my face might have been comical in another context.

Ava's voice was barely more than a murmur, but I heard it clearly in the resounding silence of the apartment. "I've been wrestling with my own... my feelings, for you, for some time now. I wondered what was wrong with me. I've told myself over and over how wicked it was. I even - "

"But, why is it wicked?" 

Ava's smile was delicate. She caressed my cheek as if to soften the sting of her words. "C'mon, Steph. We're both women. How could that possibly be right?"

I struggled to find a response.

"Look at it his way." she continued. "Could you tell your parents how you feel about me?"

I was silent. But an answer began to take coalesce in my mind.

"I know I couldn't tell my Pop." Ava went on. "If it wasn't wrong, we'd have nothing to be ashamed of, right?"

"Wait a minute." I answered. "Even if you were with a man, you wouldn't talk to your Pop about it. Not because you were doing something wrong, but because it was private... personal."

"Besides," I went on with increasing confidence in the merit of my argument, "why do others get to judge what's right for you and me? Why does anyone else have a say in who we love? 'They' say that you are lesser because you're a woman. Are they right? 'They' say that being colored makes you inferior. Is that true? Of course not."

I took Ava's hands in mine and spoke in a clear, steady voice, "'They' aren't here, right now, Ava. It's just you and me. What do you say?"

Ava lowered her head, looking at, but not seeing our entwined hands. She said nothing.

I brought my head down too, so that my gaze intercepted hers again. "Do you love me, Ava?"

She returned my searching glance, and said with a quiet vehemence, "Of course I do."

Leaning forward, I touched my forehead to hers. I took her right hand and placed it on my breast. She flinched slightly at the intimacy, but I held it there. "Do you want me?" I asked.

I had kissed her, it's true, but there had been no mention of sex until now. But, Ava knew that, in my shy way, that's what I meant.

Her answer was to tilt her head slightly and bring her lips to mine. Her left hand caressed my face while we kissed. Her right hand, still under mine, moved on my breast, becoming acquainted with its curvature. 

I shivered at the welcome attention. The warmth and joy that coursed through me was indescribable.

Ava was kissing me!

When our kiss had lingered for a while, we shifted slightly and began a fresh one. Ava's lips moved with increasing boldness until her tongue finally slipped into my mouth. The tender kiss deepened and our tongues began to tangle and lace. Ava's left hand still cupped my face while the fingers of her right hand had found my nipple and had it straining against my blouse. I whimpered without breaking the kiss.

When our lips did finally part, we were both practically panting with excitement. 

"Ava?"

"Yes?"

"I know I started all this, but I have to tell you something before we go any further."

"Okay, sweetie. What is it?"

"I haven't... that is, I never... um, what I mean to say is..."

"Stephanie?" Ava interrupted.

"Hmmm?"

"Just spit it out, hon. As you said before, there's no one here but us."

I put my face in my hands and peered out at Ava between my fingers. "I've never had... you know... sex... before. I don't really know what I'm doing. Will you be patient with me? Please?"

Ava bit her lower lip, then raised her hand to cover her mouth. But, she couldn't completely suppress the giggle that was determined to get out.

My complexion must've deepened by three shades because a look of mortification came over Ava. "Oh, no. No, sweetheart! You misunderstand! I wasn't laughing at you, I was amused by the situation."

"Why is my ignorance so amusing?"

"Because," Ava chuckled again, "you're asking the blind to lead the blind. I had don't have a minute more experience than you do."

"You mean, you're a...?" I began.

"Yup." Ava smiled back at me. "I'm a virgin, too. I mean, it's not really so surprising when you think about it. My parents watched me like a hawk while I lived with them, so there was definitely no hanky-panky going on then. When I first went out on my own I was working in a bullpen full of white guys. If any of them were interested in me, they were too afraid of the social taboos to show it. And since then, I've been working alone in my studio as a freelancer. Not exactly a recipe for finding that special someone."

"A few times," Ava added, "friends or family have set me up on blind dates, but I hated that. It's so awkward trying to make conversation with a complete stranger. A stranger with whom you might have absolutely nothing in common other than a mutual acquaintance. A few of those was enough to get me to swear off of blind dates forever. And so, here I am," Ava held her palms up on either side of her and looked down at her own kneeling form, "twenty-eight years old and unsullied. So, I guess we'll have to be patient with each other."

I smiled at Ava, and said, "I'm pretty sure sex isn't rocket science. After all, millions of morons have been doing it for millennia. I'm betting two smart girls like us can figure it out." I looked down for a moment, gathered my courage, then brought my gaze back up to meet Ava's. I spoke in a quiet, but steady voice, "Besides, we could have a lot of fun learning about it - and each other."

Ava smiled, "Yes. Yes, we could."

She got off her knees and rose to her full height. Reaching her hands down to take mine, Ava helped me up. We stood in the doorway to her bedroom, still holding each others hands, both a little uncertain what to do or say.

Ava finally spoke. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah. I guess it's been a pretty exciting day. Exhausting, too."

"Mmm-hmm. You gonna sleep in here with me?"

I nodded my agreement.

"Stephanie?"

I looked at her.

"This isn't gonna work so well if we dance too delicately around each other. We can't be afraid to communicate, hon. If things are ever moving too fast, you have to let me know. It'll take forever for us to figure out what's what if we're too shy or embarrassed to let the other know what we want. You can bet I'll be paying close attention, sweetie, but just don't count on me to read your mind. Okay?"

"I'd kinda like to take things slow." I answered. "Get used to the idea... that okay, too?"

"I'd like that, too."

So we went to bed that night with a tacit agreement that we weren't going to do anything yet, except cuddle and sleep.

Well, we may have been inexperienced and ridiculously skittish, but we were also young, aflame with curiosity and ferociously horny. Any guesses as to which attributes won out?

Ava showered first and emerged from the bathroom fully clothed in plain flannel pajamas. Then I did the same. It's not like either of us owned any sexy lingerie and I kinda doubt that either of us would've had the nerve to wear it that first night, anyway.

If there had been any witnesses, they would have been entertained at the way Ava and I avoided making eye contact. The awkward conversation scrupulously avoided the subject of romance or sex. Finally, Ava ended our dilemma by turning down the bed covers and saying, "You've got a deadline on Friday and a lot of work to do tomorrow. We should probably turn out the light and get some rest."

After we'd both gotten under the covers, Ava leaned over to the night table on her side of the bed and plunged the room into darkness. I turned on my side, facing away from Ava. For several minutes, only the sound of our breathing kept the silence from being complete.

"Ava?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember the night of the thunderstorm?"

Ava giggled, "My Christmas gift to you would suggest that I remember it pretty well."

"Wrapped up in your arms that night... I felt so safe... so loved. Would you mind holding me for a while tonight?"

"That is probably the silliest question you'll ever ask me. I'm glad we got that out of the way early."

With a slight rustling of sheets and blanket, Ava scooted over and spooned me. Her left arm cradled me and her hand came to rest on my flannel-clad tummy. The warmth of her body and soft fullness of her breasts pressed against my back felt glorious. "This must be what heaven feels like."

"I hate to tell you this," Ava said into my ear, "but I'm not an angel." As she spoke, her left hand slipped under my pajama top and came to rest on my bare belly. The intimacy of it was stunning. I forgot to breathe for a moment. Just as I was adjusting to the idea of her hand being there, Ava's other hand brushed the hair away from the back of my neck and she planted her lips on my nape. I shivered and drew in a faint hiss of air.

The hand on my stomach moved slowly upward. Then, she dragged her fingernails back down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

She repeated this erotic circuit. 

And then again. 

Each time Ava's fingers ascended, they went a little higher. By the time she reached my ribcage, my anticipation was acute. Meanwhile, her other hand had tugged the back of my pajama collar low. Her lips and tongue were slow dancing across my neck and shoulders.

When her fingertips reached the underside of my breast, I whimpered, "Ava?" into the quiet.

"Hmmm?" Her hand cupped and gently squeezed my tit and she continued her attentions at the base of my neck.

"That feels sooo goood!" I was barely able to articulate that much.

Ava's only response was a low "Mmmmmm." I felt the vibrations through her lips on my spine. I was hyper-aware of every little movement, every kiss and caress. Something big was building inside me. Something momentous. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was deliciously intense and almost overwhelming.

Her fingernails discovered my pouting nipple and circled it. My whimpering escalated. My back arched to press my breast more tightly into her grasp. Ava's fingertips grasped the erect bud and stroked it. Up and down. Up and down. Whimpers spiraled into moans. I was fast losing any inhibitions. I'd never experienced anything so joyous in my life. How could I know it would get even better?

At the same time she was fondling my breast, Ava's right hand slipped between my hips and the bed and came around to lay flat on my belly. By the time my overwhelmed senses registered this new advance, her fingers glided beneath my waistband to caress my lower stomach.

The ecstasy I felt was evident in the unintelligible stream of sounds pouring from my lips. I writhed in her arms. Her fingers and lips seemed to find every delicate, reactive spot on my body. 

When her nails dragged through the down of my pubic hair, I bit my lip to keep from crying out. A ploy that was rendered useless seconds later when those same fingers reached the warm furrow of my slit. My entire body spasmed and a sound of purest joy was pulled from me.

The combination of what the one hand was doing to my nipple and what the other was accomplishing between my legs was making me crazy. Her digits burrowed through the slippery petals, gliding over my clit each time they came back up. My hips began to pump in answer to her ministrations. "Ava?" I panted, "What are you doing to me?"

No answer. But when Ava felt my reaction every time she slithered over my clit, she concentrated her efforts there. Circling, then stroking, circling, then stroking, again and again... doing the same with my nipple.

I shuddered, screamed and my pussy clenched around her fingers. A maelstrom of pleasure pulsed through and through me and for an instant, I lost track of who and where I was. All I knew... all I felt... was out-and-out bliss.

After I don't know how long, the storm of sensation began to subside. The movements of Ava's fingers slowed. Aftershocks rippled through my frame. My breaths came in ragged gulps, but I was able to gasp, "I've never felt anything... like that in my life!" 

Ava answered with a simple, "I love you." One hand still cradled my breast and the other rose over my mons to my lower belly with sticky, sticky fingers. "You've made a mess." Ava chuckled.

"Oh, no, dear heart. You are completely responsible for that." I turned around so that I was facing her. Pulling her to me, I brought my lips to Ava's. Our tongues fought a gentle skirmish while my hands ran over the contours of her back. I took my mouth from hers for an instant, so that I could gush, "Ava! That was... that was... Oh, God! I can't even find the words to describe it. But I do know that I want to do that to you. Now. I want to make you scream. Make you shiver. And shake. Explode... the way I did." I was so excited, my words tripped over each other in their hurry to get out.

"Stephanie, honey, I guarantee I had as much fun as you did. Do you know how it made me feel to be able to do that to you? Like I was Queen of Everything."

I pulled Ava to me and kissed her fiercely. The skirmish of our tongues escalated into full-on battle. I pushed her onto her back and straddled her waist. With one hand on either side of her pajama front, I pulled them apart with all my might. As the buttons landed beside her on the mattress, Ava hissed, "Jeez, Stephanie, take it easy! All you had to..."

I interrupted her with an animal-like sound, "No, Ava... I don't have to do anything. I'm about to be 'Queen of Everything'." With that, I captured her lips with mine, pinned her arms beneath me... and poured myself into her pleasure.

Much, much later, I lay on my back with Ava's head on my shoulder, her body nestled against mine. I held her in the crook of my arm and listened to her steady breathing as she slept. I was still too excited to sleep. Pride and joy suffused my entire being. I thought of the things I'd done to her, the sounds I'd caused her to make. The shudders and spasms I'd incited. When we were done, there weren't many traces of modesty or restraint left between us. In the end, she'd begged me to give her release.

She was right. 

'Queen of Everything'.

*****

We got greedy, of course. I suppose all new lovers do. 

The next day, Ava and I spent much of the morning in bed, hugging and fondling and cuddling. Even when she was cooking breakfast, I couldn't keep my hands off of her. Finally, she reminded me that I had deadlines and so did she. She had just signed a contract for a second book and while her due date was nowhere near as looming as mine, she did still have one.

So, into the other room we went, to sit down to our appointed tasks.

Have you ever experienced a trauma? The intensity of the experience changes you. The power of certain moments can revisit you unexpectedly for years to come. Well, the night before was like that, but in a good way, of course.

The problem was, that no matter how hard I tried to focus on the task at hand, memories from the preceding night burst into my consciousness with breathtaking power. I flashed on the moment of my orgasm over and over. I kept reliving how it felt to have my fingers buried completely inside of Ava... juices flowing out of her... her body writhing beneath me.

You tell me what kind of saint could focus under those circumstances. Whoever that saint is, it ain't me. 

At last, I glanced over the room of my board at Ava. Her face was turned down to the board, her brow faintly knit in concentration. I sat for a moment, letting my gaze linger on her features, luxuriating in their beauty.

Finally, I couldn't resist.

"Ava?"

"Yes?" she answered without looking up.

"Make love to me."

"Stephanie." There was a hint of rebuke in her tone.

"Please?"

"Stephanie, my deadline's not so bad, but you've got pages due on Friday. The only way you'll get them done, is if I stop my work to help you out. That puts me on a tighter schedule than I'd like."

"I know. I know. I should be ashamed."

But a moment later, I said, "Please?" again, in as plaintive a tone as I could muster.

She didn't answer, but I could tell she was wavering.

"Ava?"

"I'm still here, Stephanie."

"If I came over there," coyness in my voice, "got on my knees, cried and begged you... would you do as I ask?"

Ava gave a defeated sigh. "You know I would."

"Well, then," I finished my airtight argument with a smug grin, "If you love me, you won't make me beg."

Ava cleaned off her brushes and said, "You were right before. You should be ashamed."

By the time she stood up from her board, I was practically bouncing with excitement. "Thank you, thank you." I took her in my arms and communicated my appreciation with a sizzling kiss.

When we reached the back bedroom, we realized that, even with the blinds closed, it was still much brighter than it had been last night. This is how we discovered that we actually did still have some modesty left after all. Neither of us had ever seen the other naked. And the idea of being seen so clearly in such intimate circumstances was still a little intimidating to both of us.

I know. I know. Ridiculous, right? We'd shattered pretty much every other bit of self-consciousness to smithereens, but, still, we'd done those things in a protective shell of darkness.

Ava hit on a solution by draping a dark, heavy blanket over the window. It completely obscured the daylight and when we shut the bedroom door, the effect was perfect.

With the darkness, we quickly shed our inhibitions and couldn't get each others clothes off fast enough.

I don't know whether Ava's reluctance had been feigned or real, but once we were in bed, any hesitation on her part was quickly replaced with a passion that bordered on ferocity.

I was in bed first, lying on my back. Ava knelt over me on all fours. I could just make out the shape of her sumptuous bosom dangling above me in the gloom. "Like ripe fruit from the vine." I thought. Cradling her left breast with both hands, I raised my head to suckle the nipple. Ava moaned and bent her arms so that her breast lowered. 

With greater access, I drew more of her into my mouth, nursing like a newborn babe. I felt a shudder run through her and I heard her draw her breath in sharply. I let her nipple slip nearly from my lips, then sucked it back in with as much of the surrounding tit as I could. This forced a little cry from her. I allowed the breast to ease almost out again. Then back in. Repeating, establishing a sensuous rhythm.




Remembering Ava



Ava bent her arms further. Lowering her frame to bring her closer to the source of pleasure, she surrounded me in an abundance of yielding, silky breast-flesh. 

After extracting a recital of sighs, moans and whimpers from Ava, I finally released her tit and let my lips and tongue meander over to its twin. 

It'd be a sin to have it feel neglected. 

Planting my tongue at the base, I brought it up the curve of her breast until I reached the bud at the pinnacle. I dragged my teeth over the length of her distended nipple, pulling it as far as gentleness would allow. Then by way of apology, my tongue swirled along it and around it. The sounds spilling from Ava suggested she was most appreciative of my effort.

While my newly discovered oral talents kept her distracted, I slipped my left hand beneath Ava and flattened my palm against her stomach. The fullness of her bosom in my mouth, the smooth curves of her belly under my fingers, the pungent scent of her excitement... my every sense was singing with delight.

I suckled, savoring the taste and texture. My hand slipped further down. Ava quivered and groaned.

Cupping her sex, I pressed in softly with my fingers. The cry that came from her was hardly sotto voce. My ring finger and index finger squeezed her outer lips together while my middle finger slid through the slick channel of her inner folds.

"Oh God," Ava moaned.

My digit glided along her sex, gathering cream as it went.

Inhibitions vanished.

Ava cried out in the darkness.

I eased her nipple from between my lips and whispered, "Ava, darling? Don't forget the neighbors."

Ava whimpered, then managed to gasp, "Girl... when you're doing that to me... I'm likely to forget my name!" My fingers continued gliding up and down that sopping groove between her legs. 

My mouth fastened onto her tit again... at the same time my middle finger delved inside her.

"OhGod... OhdearGod!"

I knew she couldn't take much more of this. For the first time, I began to resent the darkness a little. I knew that exquisite face was just above me... contorted by a ferocious ecstasy... and the absence of light stole that vision from me. 

Something would have to be done about that.

For right now, though, I had a more immediate concern.

Ava was ready.

More than ready.

I pushed a second finger into Ava. She was dripping. Lewd sloshing sounds filled the darkness.

She cried out again... neighbors be damned. 

Increasing the pace of my suckling, I matched that tempo with the thrusting of my fingers. My cream-coated thumb circled her clit. Ava quickened the pumping of her hips, until she froze for an instant, shuddered and let out a piercing wail. The muscles deep inside her spasmed and clenched my fingers. I kept nursing her breast, plunging my fingers into her and teasing that pleasure button while she shivered and shook above me.

I loved the sheer wantonness in her voice and movements. Her juices flowed out of her, covering my hand, even streaming down onto my wrist.

The aftershocks that rippled through Ava finally began to ease and my fingers slipped out of her with an erotic slurp. She brought her body down gently atop mine and I happily received the warmth... the softness of her. The room smelled gloriously of sex. I stroked her hair with the hand that wasn't a sticky mess. With her on me this way, the rhythms of her heart and breath resounded through me with an almost unbearable intimacy.

Placing her hands on either side of my face, Ava rubbed the tip of her nose against mine. Tilting her head slightly, she gave me a kiss that was still fired with passion and longing.

Ava barely withdrew her mouth... our lips were still nearly touching... to whisper, "I could get used to this." Her voice was still thick with passion. 

Our bodies were so closely entwined that my laughter shook her frame as well.

While Ava showered, I lay in bed still, contemplating what we had just done. I had never known anything could be so exhilarating, so... so all-consuming.

It was like a wonderful drug, and I craved more.

The only drawback was our shyness, and the darkness which enabled it.

I know I'm stating the obvious here, but I am a visual creature.

And Ava... well, Ava is the loveliest person, place or thing I have ever seen.

An involuntary shiver rippled through me as I imagined what it would be like to gaze into Ava's eyes as I did those things to her. I pictured her voluptuous body quivering in the throes of ecstasy.

Oh yes, one way or another, the darkness would have to be banished.

Ava was my teacher, my mentor, and not just in art. Her intelligence, her poise and her patience were all attributes I wanted to emulate.

But, when we made love, the dynamic changed. As Ava had said earlier, in this arena, her slate was as blank as mine. If anything, I might have been a little more aggressive - a shade less inhibited than she. Which is surprising, considering my upbringing. Or who knows, maybe it was a reaction to that.

When Ava came out of the bathroom, I was taking the blanket down from the window. It was, gray, December light that poured into the room, but light nonetheless.

I was still naked from our lovemaking. Ava's glance lingered for an instant, then averted shyly.

"Ready to get to work?" Ava asked.

I turned around to face her. She was undressed as well, but for the towel wrapped around her body. Looking at that astonishing spectacle made my answer easy.

"No." I answered.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Ava." I finished folding the blanket and threw it onto a chair in the corner. "But, before we get back to the studio, I want to see something."

"What?"

"You. Without that towel."

"Without...? Why?"

I moved closer to her and looked directly into her eyes. "We've just spent the last couple of hours doing things to each other that we would never dare whisper outside of each others' company." Ava crimsoned slightly, but held my gaze.

"I've shared my body with you in ways I never dreamed I would with anyone. And you know what? I'm proud of it. I'm proud that someone like you would trust me enough... love me enough... to give yourself to me so completely."

"But, I've grown too proud to be shy or embarrassed anymore. I want to see who I'm making love to. And," I glanced down at my nakedness, "I want you to see me, too."

Ava's eyes still looked at mine. She held her bottom lip in her teeth, unsure what to do.

"Drop the towel, Ava."

She tugged at the towel and let it fall to the floor.

I stepped back to get a better look. I drew in a sharp breath and my heart kindled at the sight. The hypnotic beauty of her face was echoed in the opulent curves of her figure. The rich, caramel color of her skin almost glowed there in the afternoon light.

Moving closer again, I placed the palm of my right hand flat on Ava's bare stomach. I began to walk clockwise around her, dragging my palm across her flesh as I went. I heard her make a quiet sound. As I slowly made a circuit around her, I realized that every angle I saw her from was as beautiful as the last. She was quite literally breathtaking.

When I stood in front of her again, I raised my arm to Ava's line of sight. "Do you see what you do to me?" I asked. The goosebumps roughening the surface of my arm were plainly visible. Taking her hand, I placed it slightly above my left breast. My racing heart thudded beneath her palm. After a moment, I removed her hand and lowered it between my legs. Moving her fingers across my slit, I let her feel the moisture that had gathered there. "Do you see?" I asked again.

Ava still bit her bottom lip, but she nodded her understanding with tears in her eyes. We stood for a moment, facing each other. Ava's eyes spilled over at the same time her emotions did. Taking my face in her hands, she pulled me into a kiss.

We held each other close, breasts to breasts, belly to belly. I loved having her softness, her smoothness, her warmth pressed tightly to me. Ava's tongue made a slow tour of my lips as her hands cupped the globes of my derriere to pull me even closer. Her tongue moved along my jaw line, then slipped down to my neck. I mewled my appreciation. After she had covered my throat with nips, sucks, bites and licks, Ava looked up from her ministrations and said, "I want you on your back."

She took my hand and led me over to the bed. My decision to do this in the light was already paying off. Just watching Ava walk to the bed was a delight. Her voluptuous breasts bounced erotically and I felt my heart flutter. The nipples were erect, seeming to beckon me to them. All in perfect proportion, her muscles flowed subtly under her bronzed skin.

Once I was supine, Ava laid herself on top of me and continued her attentions where she had left off... at the base of my throat. She kissed her way across my collar bone and I heard a low, thrumming sound in the room. A cross between a purr and a murmur. A second passed before I realize it was me.

Now, her mouth was leaving my upper chest and ascending the slope of my left breast. Like a benediction, her progress left faint, wet traces on my skin. Her hand went to my other breast and began to gently knead it, squeeze it, as if testing its shape and volume. Every so often, Ava alternated brushing her palm or the back of her hand over the sensitive and almost painfully stiff nipple. 

Back on my left tit, she continued her progress, licking, kissing and nuzzling towards the eagerly awaiting bud at the peak. Then away again, just before she reached my nipple. She covered every inch of my breast, except that one aching part. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to gain control of my undulating hips. Her tongue seemed to trace fire on my skin that only stoked the heat in my loins. The competing sensations on my bosom were driving me wild with lust.

To the right, she stroked lazy circles, switching between the soft pads of her fingers and their long, hard nails. To the left, her tongue teased and feathered the yielding flesh, everywhere but where the need was growing most urgent.

"Ava?" I finally whimpered.

She looked up from where she had been gently sucking the outer edge of my breast. "Hmmm?"

"Please."

Her tender, loving care continued. "Please, what?" she asked with an exaggerated air of innocence.

And to think, I had thought I might hold the upper hand in this relationship when it came to sex.

"Please suck it."

She looked up at me with mischief in her eyes. "Sorry, hon, you're gonna have to be specific. Suck what?"

I raised up on my elbows and crooked my left arm so that I could cradle my breast, holding it up and out, like an offering. Putting my other hand at the back of Ava's head, I guided it to the nub. "My nipple, please. You've been teasing me so cruelly," I whined, "when you know what I need." 

"Please. Suck. My nipple."

Ava's gaze never left mine as her head descended on my breast. It was intensely erotic watching her mouth engulf the nipple, the surrounding pink halo of flesh, and a little more of my tit besides. I saw her cheeks hollow as she began to suck langourously, her eyes still locked on mine. 

The warmth and softness of her mouth was bliss enough, but when Ava began to flick her tongue over the bud, my head rolled back, my hands clenched the sheets and I set free a throaty moan into the afternoon stillness. 

Meanwhile, my other breast was reveling in the exertions of Ava's hand. The caresses, the deep massaging, the teasing flickteasing of her fingernails. The influx of stimuli was incredible. Every nerve ending screamed in pleasure wherever she touched me.

My sex wept its gratitude down my thighs and onto the sheets. I wanted this to go on forever.

Ava's mouth finally relinquished my nipple and traced a path down the slope of the breast and onto my ribcage. She pelted my belly with a gentle flurry of kisses that brought my hips off the bed. When she reached my navel, she lavished it with special care, her tongue painting concentric circles around it, burrowing into it. Ava had never ventured this far down with her lips and tongue, only her fingers. It felt wonderful, but...

When she left my belly button, Ava continued her descent with a slow trail of kisses and licks down the center of my stomach. She was just above my pubic hair.

"Wh... What are you doing?" I gasped. My voice was husky and breathless.

Ava didn't answer.

Her kisses and tonguing had passed through the trim, downy patch and her face was disappearing past the curve of my mons. I was up on my elbows, watching her progress in stunned silence. A silence sharply broken when she gently sucked on the tender flesh of my outer lips.

"Oh, Ava! You can't possibly! That's so... so...!"

Ava's golden brown eyes flashed at me from between my legs. 

She drew the sensitive skin of my outer labia into her mouth and then laved it with her tongue. "No," I moaned. For a moment, I struggled to keep myself from enjoying it. This was wrong... 

...but it felt soooo good.

She took her time, patiently covering every inch of those outer lips, careful not to touch those aching, seeping inner petals. 

Making me want it. Making me ache for it. 

During this entire time, Ava's eyes never left mine. 

The directness of the look she gave me practically dared me to stop her. 

She knew I wouldn't. 

Knew I couldn't. 

At that moment, the way she was making me feel... she could've done anything, anything she wanted to me and I wouldn't have raised a finger or squeaked a syllable to resist.

She knew it.

The gentle, seductive progress of Ava's mouth did not prepare me for what came next. She forced her tongue into my slick inner lips and dragged it from bottom to top and across my clit. "Oh my God!" I screamed. My hips came off the bed and my thighs gripped Ava's head between them. She lashed up and down the wet silky furrow, each time finding the hard nub of flesh at the top. I moaned loudly and humped myself against her face. My anus beginning to clench in time to her tongue. 

"Yes!... Oooohh... Yesss!... Like that... That's it... Right there... Harder!... YesYesYesssss!" My throat poured out a torrent of rapturous sound.

Stop her?

Not a chance in hell.

Any reservations, any inhibitions I had left, were scattered to the four winds.

My pelvis worked in short jerky motions and Ava must've truly had to focus to keep her mouth on my sex. To gain some kind of control over my wanton frenzy, she put her hands under my bottom and pulled my hips to her face. 

Pointing her tongue, she impaled me with it. 

Thrusting in and out... in and out... Ava established a frantic rhythm. 

I rode her face with abandon, hellbent on keeping the stimulation coming. 

At just the right moment, when I didn't think I could endure another iota of pleasure, Ava wrapped her lips around my clit and sucked hard. 

I could scarcely breathe. 

The tiny pleasure button was standing at attention, out of its protective hood. Ava held it in her mouth, lashing it mercilessly with a side-to-side motion of her tongue. 

She devoured me.

The dam burst and I howled in ecstasy. Surge after surge of unbelievable bliss ripped through my body at hurricane speed. Muscles I didn't even know I had convulsed with sheer delight. 

I was caught in a hedonistic riptide of pleasure... and Ava didn't stop. Before the powerful contractions had subsided, a second orgasm tore through me. I screamed again, a savage sound. The release, so explosive that it obliterated everything for a time. 

Any idea I had about this being wrong was shattered. You couldn't get much more right than this.

My hips fell back onto the bed. My legs were trembling now from the prolonged tension. My breathing was quick and ragged.

Ava rose up from between my legs and crawled up on the bed beside me. I was on my back, she, on her right side, pressed against me with her left arm and leg draped over me. Her hand cupped my breast, fondling it, caressing it.

"That was fantastic... " I panted, "That was incredible... that was... oh God, I don't have words for what that was."

Ava's hand left my bosom and lifted my left arm from the sheets. Bringing my hand to her face, she moved my index finger around her mouth. A coating of my juices accumulated on the finger. Ava smiled, "You don't need words, love. I kinda got the idea that you liked it."

I turned on my side so that we were face to face and pulled her to me for a lingering kiss.

When lips and tongues had finished a prolonged, but gentle skirmish, I asked Ava, "What in God's name ever gave you the idea to do such a thing?"

"Kind of a long story." Ava responded.

"Hey, it's not as if I have deadlines or anything, and now you've made me curious."

"Last year, before his wife banished me, I was at a party at Paul's house. Two women were in an upstairs hallway having what they supposed was a private conversation. What they didn't know was that I was in an adjacent bedroom. Paul had sent me there to lie down because of a nagging headache."

"The ladies had obviously had a bit too much to drink and their conversation veered into pretty intimate territory, with them comparing their respective love lives. I didn't originally mean to eavesdrop, but by the time I realized how personal they were going to get, it was too late. I couldn't leave the bedroom without passing them in the hallway and they'd realize I'd overheard some pretty personal stuff."

"Anyway," Ava continued, "I guess liquor had loosened their tongues because they were both getting into pretty explicit detail about things their husbands did to them in bed. And when they got to the subject of... well, what I just did to you... they were practically squealing with delight. They both made it sound so exciting, so wonderful... I got pretty aroused just listening to them."

"For a long time after that," Ava went on, "I fantasized about someone doing that to me. I never dreamed that I might be the one, well, you know, the one, who was doing it." Ava's creamy complexion deepened slightly.

"After what you just did to me..." I asked, "as a matter of fact, what you just did to me in full daylight... are you getting bashful with me?"

"Pretty silly, huh?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I answered, "Doesn't matter to me. You're just as adorable when you're blushing as when you're not." With that, I gave her a delicate peck on the tip of her nose. 

"I want to give you that fantasy."

"Stephanie."

"I want you to look into my eyes while I do that to you."

"Stephanie."

"Yes?"

"When are we going to get any work done?"

"I suppose, at some point, we're gonna have to work our poor little fingers to the bone." I pushed Ava onto her back and rose up to straddle her waist. "But, at this very moment, we have other priorities, don't we?" Ava smiled shyly and nodded her agreement. 

We didn't get any work done until that evening.

But, before evening came, I looked up from between Ava's legs and held her gaze while my tongue was inside her. 

Before evening came, I saw her face flush and a hot shiver of ecstasy course through her. I saw her back arch, beautiful in the tension of her bliss. I watched Ava throw her head back and scream my name into the gathering darkness.

Before evening came, I felt Ava's sex grind into my lips with sheer need and then shudder and quake with blessed release.

Before evening came, I got a taste of Ava, a taste that would keep me in its thrall for more than fifty years.

*****

You might be wondering why I'm recounting these events from so long ago.

I've only recently worked up the nerve to go through Ava's things.

They've dredged up a lot of memories.

Memories that made me appreciate again just how fortunate I've been.




Remembering Ava



Ava and I had more than fifty good years together. How many people get even a fraction of that?

Truth be told, I just needed to get some of this off my chest... get it out in the open. Ava and I hid our relationship, even from those closest to us, for most of our lives.

Oh, it's not as if these people were stupid, as if they didn't know.

But, it was never discussed or even acknowledged. At least not until late... very late in life.

Hell. We never even held hands in public until Ava was in her seventies and I was in my sixties.

This is a hard, bitter world, but I always, always, always had Ava to give me shelter.

And she always had me.

As far as I know, we were the two most fortunate people on the planet.