16 comments/  73168 views/  16 favorites

Tom and Sandy Ch. 01

By: Tom_and_Sandy



(Author's note: Thanks for clicking. This is primarily a romance story, but you'll find strong themes of maturity and submission within. The first chapter contains very little in the way of sexual activity. If that's all you're interested in, skip to chapter 3. I think you'd enjoy it all much more if you read it from the top, though…)

*

"But... but..." Jenny blubbered.

"Listen, Jen, I know it's a cliché, but please believe me. It's not about you. It is one hundred percent my fault."

Jenny looked up at Tom with watery eyes. 

"I did everything for you! I only tried to make you happy! I cooked, I rubbed your back, I even sucked your fucking dick!" Her blubbering was starting to turn into venom. "It was fucking disgusting, but I let you do it anyway because I thought that's what you wanted! Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you looking for?"

Tom sighed loudly. "I... wish I could say."

"How many girls do you think there are in the world that will bring you a beer, then strip for you, then give you a blowjob while you watch a baseball game?"

He rose from his now-ex-girlfriend's sofa. "Believe me, this is as hard for me as it is for you. You're going to find a fantastic guy pretty soon. You've got everything most guys are looking for. I guess I'm just not one of those guys."

Jenny rolled up into a ball on the couch and sobbed. 

"Jeez," Tom thought, "how about a little melodrama?" 

"Well, I better get going. For what it's worth, I always had a great time when we were together." He walked slowly to the front door.

Just before he closed the door behind him, Jenny called after him, "I don't know what you're looking for, but I hope you never find it!"

Tom sighed again and walked to his car in the driveway. "I probably never will," he muttered.

That was Saturday. Tom spent Sunday flipping through the channels. Some WNBA game on; meh. On the science channel they were searching for the lost ruins of Canada's oldest settlement. Yawn. He checked the guide channel, and discovered that the Rangers didn't play until 9:05 PM central. Must be a game on the west coast. He turned off the TV.

Shuffling over to the bookcase, Tom scanned the shelves. Terry Goodkind's series remained incomplete in his collection. Robert Jordan had gotten boring in the last couple of installments. He'd already raced through Michael Crichton's latest opus. With a sigh, he picked up Tolkien's first effort.

Staring past Bilbo's image, he thought about his life. Jenny had been a great girlfriend to him. She was beautiful; most men dream of having a blonde like her astride them, 36C tits swaying in their face. But she wasn't able to... something. Fulfill him? Satisfy him? Something.

"What does that mean? Fulfill me?" Tom mouthed to himself. "I'm starting to sound like a soap opera writer."

Tom put Tolkien back in his place, then flopped down and stared at Emeril for an hour. How many tired cliches can a guy use in an hour? At least 38, if tonight's episode was any indication. Tom clicked the television off.

Eight-o-clock and nothing to do. Sunday nights always dragged on. After The Simpsons had lost its edge, and Futurama had been cancelled, there was little to look forward to in those few hours before the new work week started. With a shrug, Tom arose from the recliner and walked into the second bedroom, which he'd turned into an office.

Tom shuffled his mouse around to chase away the screen saver. Soon his desktop blinked into view. A cat with a tiny tophat on. Jenny had picked that one out. She found it more appealing than the montage of Adele Stephens that Tom had chosen. Clicking his tongue, then his mouse, he opened Firefox. If he accomplished nothing else tonight, he'd find a wallpaper that didn't remind him of his ex-girlfriend.

A few keystrokes later, he was staring at the Google main page. Hm... how about... hell. When he sat at the computer, thought eluded him. He could think of a million great things to research on wikipedia while he was driving home, but the minute he had the chance to actually do it, his mind blanked. Sigh. He began to type into the search engine.

"Girls naked"

Six million, eight hundred forty thousand sites presented themselves. Abstractly, Tom wondered how you got to be the number one site on Google out of that many. Probably some payola involved.

Clicking on a couple of them, he found that the spammers had had their way with this particular search term. Every one he chose promised him naked horny teens if he could only fork over $29.99 for a month of access. He typed in another term.

"Girls naked -porn -teen"

Wow. That reduced the search field to five million, two hundred seventy thousand. This was getting him nowhere.

Then he remembered the link his brother had sent to him a few weeks ago. It was for a porn password site, allegedly one that had working passwords to adult sites. He decided it was worth a try.

Clicking on the link in his email, he was soon staring at a list of passwords. Amateurallure dot com. Hot teen chicks everywhere he looked. All in apple's .MOV format. Bah.

The next site on the list was called Amateur-facials.com. A bunch of mediocre looking young women with semen dripping off their faces. Intriguing for a few minutes, but still... bah. 

Every other site he clicked on yielded similar results.

Bah.

Tom closed Firefox and went to bed. 

Monday morning. The radio alarm clicked on at 6:30 AM. Punching the snooze button, Tom rolled over. Nine minutes later, another rude awakening. The morning radio show droned on about some guys in Japan that wore funny masks while they robbed a bank. He came down with a heavy hand on the top of the radio. 

Sitting up, he paused for a moment to let his eyeballs focus. The dog was laying beside him, snoring softly. Lucky bitch. He reached over and scratched her belly.

After showering and dressing, Tom moved rapidly around the house. He was almost perpetually late in the morning. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't like mornings; he just didn't feel any pressure to be in the office before 8:00 AM. His boss usually wasn't. Even if she was, he knew he wouldn't be in trouble. The office environment was relaxed enough that being ten, fifteen, thirty minutes late was always overlooked. It was more important to get your job done, and to get it done well. He dug that, and that's why he stayed where he was even though he could certainly make more money elsewhere.

Tom worked for a medium-sized engineering firm. Civil; anything else would just be stupid. That's what he liked to say at professional gatherings of other civil engineers. Classically, the joke went that anything else would be uncivilized, but Tom thought it was funnier the other way.

After letting the dog out for a few minutes, herding her back in, collecting his office cell phone, wallet, keys, and a bottle of water, he adjourned to the garage. His mustang roared to life, and within a few minutes he was on the interstate. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his glove box. Tom wasn't a heavy smoker, but he liked one in the morning to help wake him up. Flicking his bic, the Camel Light lit and glowed happily.

Two hours later, Tom stared at the spreadsheet in front of him. Goddamn numbers weren't adding up. A cursory inspection had revealed no problems-- oh. Someone forgot to put in the placeholder dollar sign, and that caused some incorrect values to be calculated. He fixed the problem and grinned smugly at his monitor when the correct numbers popped up.

"I fixed it!" Loud enough to be heard around the corner.

His phone rang. He saw on the caller ID that it was Sandy, his supervisor.

"Nuh uh. What was wrong?" 

"Well, the autoexec dot bat file was wrong, and I had to hex edit the operating system to correctly handle the floating point operations, but it was nothing a little perl script couldn't--"

"Bah! Whatever, mister. Just email it to me, please?" She knew he was bullshitting her. She'd have probably been surprised if he hadn't.

"Well, ok, but I might have to adjust the uh... system parameters... to handle the... bitrate... uh..." He had already made the email and was clicking send. Over the line, he heard the notification program beep at her, and he knew that she had it.

"That was fast. Good work. Thanks, bye!" She hung up.

Ahh... another problem solved. Now it was time to play Windows pinball for a while.

Lunch at the pizza place down the street was always good. He tried to avoid it, but the lure of the baking dough was difficult to resist. If he could limit these indulgences to once a month, his waistline would thank him. 

He sat in the back booth, contentedly munching on his calzone. Eighties music played mutedly in the background. Teenage kids from the university chatted at several tables nearby. Someone was playing Galaga on the coin-op machine in the corner. It was a nice place to have lunch. Tom speculated that in another life, he must have been a pizzeria owner, because this felt like home to him. He brought the calzone to his lips and took a bite.

Raising his head, he saw Sandy push the door open. She walked to the counter and placed her order. Looking around for a place to sit, she started toward an open table. 

Tom pulled out his cell phone. Sitting in a secluded booth, she hadn't seen him there. He hit speed dial number two. Number one was Jenny. Cringing, he made a mental note to get rid of that. In a few seconds, he heard Sandy's ringtone drifting across the room.

"Hey, what's up?"

"That calzone is going to go straight to your thighs."

"Wha-!"

Tom saw her head poke up from the table she was sitting at. 

"In the booth behind the jukebox. Come on over."

Sandy shuffled her way between college kids in chairs and slid into the booth across from him. 

"My thighs are just fine, thank you!"

Tom was tempted to comment that yes, they were. Sandy was a beautiful woman, especially for a forty-four year old who had two teenage kids at home. Instead, he just grinned at her.

"Well, if you think so, that's all that matters."

She screwed up her face into a scowl. After a few seconds of pretending to be upset, she smiled back at him. That was something that Tom liked about her: she had a healthy self-image. She knew damn well that she could turn heads, and although she didn't flaunt it, she still knew she had it.

"So seriously, what was wrong with the calculations?"

"Someone, and I can't speculate on who, but someone forgot to put the dollar sign before she-- er, I mean, he or she, dragged the cell values down to the rest of the column."

Sandy stared at him impassively for a second.

"Well. That was certainly a newbie mistake, wasn't it?"

"Yes… only an engineer with little to no experience could make that mistake in his or her spreadsheet construction." 

Since Sandy was the only female engineer at the firm, the point was well taken. 

"Well, I'm sure whoever made that critical mistake has been properly educated and will do her—or his! best not to make it again."

"One would hope."

They stared at each other for five full seconds before the both simultaneously broke out into smiles.

"Thanks for fixing my mistake, Tom."

"It was no problem at all, Sandy. Those dollar sign thingies are hard to remember."

Tom gazed at her. She really was lovely. Her honey blond hair cascaded to her shoulders, with long curls that might have been better described as a single curl toward the bottom of each lock. In any case, her coiffure looked natural but groomed at the same time. Her facial features were attractive without being stunning. A few wrinkles were starting to show themselves around her eyes, but all in all, she could easily pass for thirty instead of forty-four. She looked back at Tom with spectacular blue eyes, softened by a perfect application of mascara and a blush of eye shadow.

A waiter brought Sandy's order to the table. 

"Here you are, ma'am. Do you need a refill?"

"Yes please. Diet Coke."

The young man took her glass and disappeared around the corner. A moment later, he returned with a brimming glass of cola. 

"Dustin playing ball tonight?" Dustin was Sandy's fourteen year old son. He was a fair athlete, from what Tom could gather, although to hear Sandy tell it he was ready for the pros even at his early age.

"No, tomorrow night. He's going to catch, we think."

Catcher was a position that Tom was familiar with. Of course, he was familiar with every infield position. While in high school he'd manned the positions of catcher, pitcher, first base, third base, and shortstop regularly, and second base occasionally. He had been most often utilized at pitcher and shortstop, but he had enough skill to play any of the others interchangeably. 

"Well, tell him to get his body in front of the ball. That's the most important thing."

"He is good at catching the balls that come in low, in the dirt. The coach says he's the best on the team."

"Yeah, that's a rookie mistake. It may work now, but when the ball's coming in at eighty miles per hour, he'll need to be in front of it and block it with his body, not try to catch it. If he develops those skills now, he'll be way ahead when the varsity coaches are watching him."

"I'll let him know. Would you be interested in giving him a private lesson?"

"If the price is right."

She grinned at him. Knowing full well that he would do it for free, she decided to play along.

"What do you charge for a baseball lesson?"

"One percent of his earnings as a pro ballplayer."

"Oh, you're that good, are you?"

"If I'm not, I haven't really lost anything, eh?" Tom probably was that good, but he could tell she didn't believe it.

"I'll call you some weekend and we'll set something up."

"Cool, I'm available anytime. Just don't call before noon because I'm usually hung over." He smiled at her. He was rarely hung over, but he liked to tease her. Her motherly instincts always came through.

"You better not be drinking and driving!" 

"I normally catch a ride home with one of the girls at the bar." 

"You… I'm going to eat my lunch now."

Tom nodded and sat back in the booth. He watched her surreptitiously. He didn't want to seem to be staring, but he really was struck by her natural beauty. A married mother of two who is in her mid forties has little reason to primp; therefore, she must be pulling this off without really trying. Tom couldn't see her except from the sternum up, but he knew that her primary allure was from the belt down. Sandy had a fantastic ass. It was full and round, but not fat, like any good ass should be. She had slender legs which were athletic and muscular for a woman her age. He'd seen her playing volleyball at the company picnic, and was impressed with her flexibility and reflexes. Her hips were womanly, but contracted nicely at her waist, which was about 26 inches around. She had a flat tummy that swelled again at her breast. Tom judged her to be a 34B. Nothing overt, but exuding an alluring femininity that drew attention from most male observers. All in all, she was a very attractive woman.

"What?"

Oh, hell. She'd seen him looking. 

Thank God. She had splattered a little bit of pasta sauce on her blouse. That provided Tom with a nice excuse to escape an awkward moment.

"You planning to wear that tomato sauce to the meeting this afternoon? It's really a nice complement to your skirt."

"Oh heck! I'll be right back!" She slid out of the booth and walked quickly to the ladies' room. He couldn't help but notice, however, that her neck was a little flushed as she walked by.

Back at the office, the afternoon dragged by. The meeting was boring, as they all were. Chris, the big boss, droned on about what meetings he was going to, and what projects were coming up that they should all be ready for. Tom knew that they were nothing that he couldn't handle when they got dumped on his desk. Even though things usually came to him at the last second, he was fully prepared to deal with them and have them out the door before the deadline. That was one of the nice things about the job. Tom was good enough with computers that he could usually get things done quickly, but to the other (older) employees it seemed like he was working magic. He never pointed out that anyone with some skill with Windows applications should be able to finish these things expediently. If his bosses thought he was some kind of elite hacker, so much the better for his future prospects.

At 4:45, Sandy poked her head inside his door. 

"I'm leaving a little early today to pick up my son from practice. Do you mind locking everything up?"

Tom didn't mind. He would just surf the net in the interim fifteen minutes anyway. 

"I guess."

She smiled at him.

"You're the best. See ya tomorrow!" She batted her eyes at him, flashed a nervous smile, and was gone. 

On the drive home, Tom lit a cigarette. He flipped through the radio stations, finally settling on a classic rock station. He felt that when looking for a post-workday decompressor, one could certainly do worse than Poison.

At the drive in

 In the old man's Ford

 Behind them bushes

 Till I'm screamin' for more

 Down in the basement

 Lock the cellar door and baby

 Talk dirty to me!

 No doubt about it, Bret Michaels was a misunderstood genius. 

Opening the door from the garage, Tom got jumped. A set of huge paws landed squarely on his chest, nearly throwing him back into the garage. 

Tom bellowed, "Get off me!"

The beast in front of him stared at him expectantly.

"Who's my good girl!?!" Tom shouted. His dog, Helena, yipped excitedly. 

"Well then, who needs a treat!?" 

"WOOF!" (ME!)

"OK then!" Tom fished around in the Milk Bone box until he found a whole one. He gave it to Helena and she ran into the living room with it.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, Tom flopped down in the recliner. He surfed through the channels, rejecting one stupid show after another until he finally settled on Jeopardy!. As he watched distractedly, his thoughts drifted from English Sovereigns to Sandy. She was so pretty. Too bad she was married. Of course, most beautiful women of her age had been taken for a couple of decades now. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't rearrange things in his personal fantasyland.

As Alex guided the contestants through their paces, Tom absentmindedly did his exercises. He would never admit it, but he religiously went through a series of… well, kegel exercises were the only way he could describe it. What women did to make their vaginas toned would also work for men. Essentially, the routine amounted to clenching his pelvis muscles as if he were stopping the flow of urine. Daily repetitions strengthened the pubococcal muscle, which coiled around his prostate. The muscle played a large part of sexual response, and the extra attention had two effects: firstly, it granted him very intense orgasms. This allowed him to ejaculate a large amount of semen, and with improved force. Secondly, it gave him the ability to withhold his orgasm almost indefinitely, until he consciously chose to release it. This was the best part of the deal, as far as Tom was concerned.

After reading about the exercises in the Playboy advisor, Tom had decided it was worth a shot. Starting with twenty five repetitions of three seconds each per day, he'd worked his way up to two hundred. The result was that he could have intense sex for extended periods and refrain from a (usually) session ending orgasm until a time of his choosing. Jenny had had no idea he did them, but she benefited from their result. He had regularly made love to her for up to two hours, never once needing to stop for a break. The constant, intense pounding had more than once left her a babbling puddle, and a couple of times had brought her to hyperventilation. Another convenient side effect was that she remained in an almost constant state of orgasm throughout the ordeal. Several times, Tom had pounded her until he began to sense that she was tiring, and would be grateful for an ending to the lovemaking. 


Tom and Sandy Ch. 01



He didn't want to admit to such an unusual exercise to his girlfriend, but he was curious about its effect on her. He had nonchalantly asked her questions about how she felt, and from what he could gather, she entered a sort of catatonic daze while they were at it. While they were making love, he'd slow his ministrations at critical times so she wouldn't become unbearably sensitive, but usually by the thirty minute mark she was more or less floating on an orgasmic cloud, so he could hammer away without concern. She would eventually come down as soreness started to come into play, but until then she would moan, unseeing eyes staring into his, as she ascended to one climax after another.

The exercises took about ten minutes. Towards the end he was always drained, as any rigorous exercise will affect. He rose from the chair as Double Jeopardy! commenced and began to make himself some dinner.

Bed time came more quickly than he had hoped, but then, it always did. If only time spent at work flew by like it did when he could choose his activities! He lay down in his bed, Helena curled up on the floor below him. Reaching down, he scratched her ears. She sighed contentedly. 

As he drifted toward sleep, he was surprised to notice that Sandy knocked on the hazy door to his torpid repose. Vaguely, he later recalled that they had been transported back to the pizza parlor, but this time they were alone. They had ordered together, and he had paid. Almost as if they were a couple.

Tom walked into the office on Tuesday morning with a sense of urgency. He was determined that today, he would make a difference. Sitting down at his workstation, he rolled up his sleeves. With a few keystrokes, he loaded the program that would help him make history.

Seventeen minutes later, he had claimed the all-time best score on Minesweeper, expert level.

"Oh Em Gee!" He thought to himself.

Hearing footsteps, he closed the game. Sandy strode by, calling "Mornin' Thomas!" over her shoulder. 

"Eh there!" He was a little disappointed in the elegance of his response.

He sipped his coffee. It was 8:32. Looks like another fine day of doing very little.

He downgraded his stance on the day when the big boss walked in.

Sitting at the conference room table, Tom wondered what was going on. He, Sandy, and the intern Jeremy had brought notepads and pens to take notes. 

"We have a major problem. The Carson project is a no-go. We designed the drainage to get water from 3216 feet elevation to 3203, and everything was staying in acceptable ranges as far as velocity in the pipe. But they've decided they want the receiving station to sit at 3192, so we're eleven feet too high. It was a last minute decision, and I didn't get notice until today. This is going to be a major redesign!"

"Take a deep breath there, chief." Tom thought. Nothing was ever as bad as the big boss made it sound.

"Well… a few tweaks should cover it. After all, we're moving it almost four miles." Tom tried to sooth the boss's fears.

"No. You don't understand. They want it to come in at the same velocity and flow rate. That means a lot of changes!"

Jesus. The guy thought he knew everything. Tom hated it when he took that tone. If Tom didn't understand something, it was because some variable hadn't been introduced yet. Just because you're older than dirt doesn't mean you're as wise.

Sandy piped up, "OK, we'll design an energy brake somewhere and everything will be ok. Give us… two days." 

"We don't have two days. The contract is due by noon tomorrow. If we miss that, they'll go with some other firm. Can you have it by then?"

Tom sighed, but only internally. He knew he was in for a long day. Because it was his cliché when he needed to reassure Chris, he spoke.

"If we can't, no one can."

Sandy sat down in the chair across from his desk. He met her gaze levelly, knowing what she was going to say. 

"Tom… we have to get this done. By noon tomorrow. Can we?"

"Sandy, let me reiterate: if I can't, no one can."

She looked at him for a few seconds. Her face softened. She knew that when he was confident, success was virtually assured.

"OK. We have three options for the brake. Each has drawbacks, but since we don't really have any other choice, we'll need to figure out which one is the best."

"Well, I'm thinking the area just east of the freeway on-ramp is best. I'll look at the areas you found, though."

"OK. I'll send you the aerials and the plans. Let's discuss after lunch."

Tom smiled at her. Unbeknownst to her, he'd analyzed the situation a week ago, and knew precisely which three locations she meant. There were really only three options, and she'd done well to determine that. He'd already thought about it because clients did this kind of crap all the time. If they'd raised, instead of lowered, their elevation, they'd have needed a pump. He knew where that would go, too.

"Okey dokey."

At 1:40 PM, Tom entered a few numbers into the new hydraulic calculation spreadsheet. There was a lot more to do, but he had a good start on it. Things should wrap up by 4:30, plenty of time for Chris to review it. There might even be enough time for him to pat Tom on the back.

Sandy walked in. "You aren't going to like this…"

"What?"

"Chris neglected to mention, because I guess he forgot, but Carson also wants to add in another retention pond to the drainage area. It's going to remove twenty six cubic feet per second from our flow rate."

"Oh for…" Tom nearly said "chrissake," but he knew that she was pretty religious. She might get upset.

"Sorry. Can you do it?"

"Sandy, if I can't…."

"I love it when you say that."

"But not by 5:00. This is a new wrinkle and will require a lot of work."

"Hm. OK. Can you stay late?"

"No. Helena is a very demanding mistress. Besides, this is at least another three hours of work. I'll take it home with me."

Tom thought for a fraction before adding the rest. "I could use some help, if you're available."

Sandy paused. After a second, she answered, "OK. We'll work on it at your house tonight."

"OK. We can order out, hopefully we'll be finished by 9:00."

At 5:00, Tom rose from his desk. He walked to Sandy's office and leaned on the door frame. 

"Well, I need to go. Wanna follow me?"

Although Tom knew that she had a pretty good idea of where he lived, he still wanted to offer. She'd never been to his house as a guest, so it was a good idea for her to follow him.

"Yeah, ok. I called John and let him know. He's going to take care of the kids tonight without me."

"Okay, but you should be home in time to tuck them in. I figure we've got about four hours of work ahead of us."

She followed him in her Mercedes. Her husband, John, made quite a bit of money, so she was able to have a very nice car to drive. It was a very nice ride, too. Kompressor convertible. Not too impressive as far as miles per gallon, but she looked hot when she was driving it. Tom guessed that was the main thing.

Pulling into his driveway, he opened the garage door. It was a two seater, but he only ever filled up one bay of it. He got out and waved her into the second slot. 

She pulled in and killed her car. Gathering her belongings, she got out and followed him into the house.

Sandy stifled a yelp when the dog pounced on Tom. He laughed and grabbed her by the collar.

"I'll just put her out while we work. She likes to romp in the back yard anyway."

He drug Helena to the back door and shoved her outside.

"Have a seat at the table. I'll get my laptop and we can get to work." 

Tom walked into the office and dug out the laptop. The firm had bought it for him for situations like this. These kinds of things rarely arose, but when they did, the difference between success and failure could be millions of dollars. Therefore, it was well worth it to the company to spring for a three thousand dollar computer for Tom to take home with him.

Sandy had her laptop already booted when he came back. He sat in the chair beside her and plugged his in. Tapping the power button, the machine started to boot. 

"Want a drink? I have water, orange juice… uh… beer…" He smiled at her.

"Just water, thanks."

He fetched two bottles of water from the fridge. 

After working for an hour, they had made significant progress toward a solution to their problem. Tom looked up from his computer and rolled his neck around. Sandy took a break from her work, too.

"I'm hungry. What do you want?"

"Whatever is ok with me."

"Chinese food it is, then!"

Tom dug around through the kitchen drawers until he found an old take-out menu. The Angry Panda was the best Chinese food the city had to offer. He punched the number into his cell phone. 

Another hour went by before the food arrived. They were about 80% done with the work they needed to do that night. The water was going to flow just fine. Hearing the doorbell ring, Tom got up. 

"Here's a twenty." Sandy offered the bill without looking up from her laptop. 

"Pfft. It's my pleasure to treat such a lovely woman to dinner." 

Tom walked to the door, his face turning red. Had he really said that? Thankfully, she didn't respond.

He took the bags from the delivery boy and withdrew into the kitchen. 

"Dinner… is served." he announced with unnecessary flair.

They munched their noodles around the table. Tom used chopsticks, Sandy a fork. He felt that Chinese food wasn't authentic unless consumed with their traditional accoutrements. 

"Lo mein any good?" he asked.

"It's pretty good. What's this place called again?" "The Angry Panda. Check out the menu." He slid it over to her. Sure enough, there was a depiction of a panda bear with its eyes lowered into slits. 

"Ha! I wonder what he's angry about?" Tom thought for a beat. 

"Probably not enough bamboo."

She squinted at him, grinned, and finished her dinner.

They wrapped up their work at 8:35. The project was now complete. Thanks to Tom's WaterCAD skills and some thoughtful suggestions from Sandy, everything had worked out ok. Chris would be happy.

"Welp, I guess this does it. I'll burn this to a CD and bring it tomorrow." Tom rose and walked to the computer room where he kept his computer equipment.

"Hey, what's in there?" She followed him.

Tom flicked on the light in the computer room. The wood-paneled walls became visible. It looked like an Aspen ski lodge. The floor was hardwood, the lighting recessed, the faux-wood walls arose to oak trim. The only thing missing was a fireplace. He'd wanted that, but decided it was too expensive. He went to the desk and grabbed a CD+R. 

Sandy browsed his bookshelf. He silently hoped she wouldn't find any of his… racy books. He had some he didn't know if she'd approve of. The Kama Sutra. The Vagina Monologues. Sex and the City. Sandy was about as conservative as they came. 

"Sandy, check this out!" He clicked to open the folder where his digital pictures were kept.

He showed her a bunch of pictures of the trip he'd taken to London the previous summer. Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey seemed to bore her, but she perked up when he got to Hyde Park. 

"Ooh, look how green it is! Didn't you go in July?" "Yeah, but they get a bit more rain than we do."

Suitably distracted, it was no problem to keep her away from the "naughty" books until the CD-R tray slid open. 

As he showed her to the door, Tom made a surreptitious glance at Sandy's posterior. Jesus, that was a nice ass. Her jeans accentuated her curves nicely. She had the look of a mature woman: not thin, like a girl, but not fat. Her hips exuded femininity. He didn't want to part company just yet. 

"Hey, we did a great job tonight. Why don't we have a beer before we go? To celebrate."

She turned to face him.

"Well… John is waiting…"

"Oh, ok. Well, I guess I'll have to celebrate by myself." He smiled at her. He moved to open the door for her.

Surprisingly, she spoke again. "I guess one couldn't hurt."

They sat in front of the TV as they drank their brews. He'd quickly flipped the TV from the Food Network, where it had been parked since the night before, to something better suited for a general audience. He turned on the guide and followed it to Grey's Anatomy.

Unsurprisingly, the interns at Seattle Grace were once again more concerned with sex than with medicine. Meredith had a crush on some veterinarian, while Dr. McDreamy was having some problems with his ex-wife. Things got a little more interesting when Ms. Dr. McDreamy made an entrance.

Damn, that was a fine woman! Tom figured that with all the young doctors running around in the show, the ex-wife of the surgeon was by far the hottest. 

"Too bad I can't meet a woman like that!" Tom commented. He looked over at Sandy and grinned.

"Yeah, tell me about that. Why aren't you married yet? I can't believe that the women of this town haven't snatched you up yet." Sandy swigged the last of her beer and looked back at him.

"Well… Jenny and I… didn't work out." He got up and walked to the fridge.

Before she could protest, he handed her a fresh brew. She looked like she wanted to say something, but remained silent and took his offering. After a minute, she spoke.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. When did this happen?" "This weekend. It wasn't pretty. There was some… yelling. I can never go back." He added, "I think she'll be fine." 

"Oh, Tom. She seemed like a nice girl. I'm sorry you two split up."

"She was a nice girl. If she hadn't been, maybe we'd still be together." Tom thought to himself. 

"Well, I guess all good things have to come to an end."

"I guess." She cracked open the second beer and took a swig. 

After Grey's Anatomy, and their third beer, Tom clicked the TV off. Sandy rose, a bit unsteadily. He peered at her. He'd had three beers as well, but she seemed much more affected by them. 

"You ok to drive?"

"Um… yeah. I think so."

Tom sharpened his glance. She probably wasn't.

"I don't think so, hon. Why don't you sit and I'll get you some water."

"No, I'm ok. I can—" She banged her shin on Tom's coffee table.

"Dammit!" She almost immediately turned red at having used such language. Tom acted as if he didn't hear."

"Sandy, sit down. I can't let you drive home like this." He fetched her water from the fridge.

She moaned, "Oh, that really hurt. I don't normally drink this much." She suddenly looked up at him. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Tom felt bad until she grinned at him. She was only kidding.

"No, but I'm sorry. You're welcome to stay here tonight if you want. I have an extra bed."

Her smile remained steadfast. 

"And do you have my shade of eye shadow?"

"Er… no, I think I wear a slightly darker shade." 

"Then I guess I'd better let this wear off and then go." 

Glancing at the clock, Tom saw that it was after 10:00. He wasn't planning to go to bed for a while, so this situation suited him fine. 

"OK. What do you want to talk about?" He flopped down in the recliner.

"What was wrong with Jenny?" She sipped her water and looked at him innocently.

"Who said anything was wrong with her?" Tom looked at her over his fourth beer of the night. 

"Well, I know she didn't break up with you. Therefore, you must have dumped her. What I want to know is, why?"

Tom stared at her. 

"Well… I guess she wasn't my type." 

"Hm. So a beautiful, articulate blonde, in a bachelor of science in biology degree track, who might become a doctor someday, wasn't your type… tell me Tom, what exactly is your type?"

He recalled that she had met Jenny at one of the office social affairs a few months earlier. He thought for a bit before responding.

"Well… She always seemed a little immature."

"Funny, she always seemed pretty level-headed to me. Try again."

"What the hell?" Tom thought to himself. "Where is she going with this?"

"Well… not as mature as I'd like, I guess."

"So you want an experienced woman, is that what you mean?" Sandy looked at him innocently. "I… don't know. I guess I'm not sure what I want. I know I'll probably regret breaking up with her, but I just couldn't continue when I knew that I wouldn't be happy with her if we wound up getting married."

"Tom, we're both a little tipsy. So I won't hold it against you if you just come out and tell me what you're looking for in a woman. I'm really curious. I never know how the male mind operates, but I'm always ready to gather more data."

Tom sat back and looked at her. She was never like this. He wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer that had been lurking in his brain over the last couple of days. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. He decided that if she asked for it, she would get it. And that it would clear his mind, if nothing else.

"I guess I'm just trying to find a successful, mature woman who will devote her life to me, but at the same time recognize that I'm the one in charge, at least in most situations. A woman that will give me anything I want, but at the same time will be strong and independent. Not a clingy girl, nor a high-maintenance prima donna. I want a girl, no, scratch that, a woman, who could make a great living without me in her life, but chooses not to. I want a woman who would do anything to keep me, but at the same time, could go on without me."

She had been looking at him thoughtfully. Her blue eyes never left his throughout his entire speech.

"That would be quite a woman," she said quietly.

"I know. I guess that's why I haven't found her yet."

"I'm sure you will, someday." She looked away and took a sip of her drink.

"I don't think that woman exists. Seems like any time I find someone that can support herself, she isn't interested in any man being in charge of her. I'm not saying that I necessarily want her to be obsequious, but I do want her to defer to me in some things. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think a man should be in charge of certain aspects of the operandi du jour."

"Tom, I agree that there aren't many women like that. But don't think that there aren't any. Never give up hope."

Tom looked into her soft blue eyes. He really appreciated her advice. 

After another half-hour, Tom showed Sandy to the garage. Her Kompressor roared to life when she turned the key. He leaned down into her opened driver's side window. As she put the shifter into gear, he spoke.

"Thanks for helping me with the project, Sandy. Are you sure you're ok to drive?" "Yes, I'm ok to drive. And you're welcome. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you." He looked directly back at her.

Tom had nothing else to say, but he didn't want to stop looking into her eyes. They were so big and clear; the eyes of a confident woman. A tickle in the back of his mind reminded him that he should have felt silly, staring at her like that. But another tickle rebutted that she hadn't let off the brake yet. Not to mention, she hadn't stopped staring back at him.

Five seconds passed.

"See you tomorrow, Tom."

She slowly backed out of his driveway, and then her Mercedes roared into the night.

Chris was pleased with their work. Everything was coming up roses, as far as he was concerned. While he had been eating a filet at the country club, his employees were saving his company a million dollars. Not bad, not bad.

Tom's phone rang at 8:30. He saw on the caller ID that it was Chris. 

 "Dammit, if he has some more shit for me to do…"

 Tom picked up the phone.

"This is Tom."

"It's Chris." "Yeah, what's up boss?" "Hang on a sec. Sandy?" A beat passed before he heard Sandy's musical voice came through on the conference call.




Tom and Sandy Ch. 01



"Hi, Chris."

"I looked over this revision you guys did. Great fucking job. I mean, I couldn't have done it better myself. I know I owe you… what do you want? Steak dinner, baseball tickets in my box, you name it."

That was one nice thing about Chris. He knew when he'd had his ass saved, and was willing to pay for it when it happened. Tom considered his options. With nothing presenting itself, he spoke.

"Sandy, what do you want?" 

"Oh, I don't know. How about the day off?"

Chris asked, "Tom?" "Sure, sounds ok to me."

Tom was logging off of his computer when Sandy walked in.

"Hey, we have the day. Have any plans?"

"Well, since I didn't know we were going to get it… no."

"Let's go to the park."

"Is that an order?" She was, after all, his superior.

"Well, considering that we're good friends, and I'd never want to disrupt your life… yes."

They walked slowly through the park. The spring was young, but most of the trees had already bloomed and were filling out their green coats again. In the temperate zone, there were many different varieties of vegetation covering any area where they had been allowed to grow: elms, sycamores, maples, and the king of them all, the oaks. 

Tom had always liked oak trees. Growing from a humble acorn, they dominated the forest. Taller and thicker, they always provided the most shade with their canopies. Standing steadfast in the wind, it took an almost cataclysmic event to kill one. Even a decade-long drought couldn't fall a mature oak tree. 

Sandy walked beside him. She seemed like she had something to say. Tom waited patiently for her to get around to it. If he'd learned one thing about women, it was that they'd say what they had to say in their own good time. Rushing was no good.

They came to a bend in the path. Here, the concrete track bent in a semicircle before regaining its original alignment several dozens of feet down. It seemed to be a natural glen; the trees were strangely missing from the area formed by the half-circle around which the pavement wound. Tom figured this was a man-made clearance, but was willing to suspend his cynicism so that the illusion of natural enclosure would remain complete. At the far side of the sidewalk semicircle was a bench.

Sandy increased her pace and sat down on the bench. With a gesture of her hand, she indicated that Tom should sit also.

"What's going on here?" He thought to himself.

They sat in silence for a half-minute. Tom admired the view; they were completely enclosed by high-rising trees. This nook provided a very secluded conference area. 

"Tom… John threw a fit last night when I got home."

A thousand scenarios played through Tom's mind. No supper? No company? Was her husband the kind of man who would get upset about one night's absence? Even a limited one? 

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope I'm not out of line if I ask why?"

"He didn't like me getting home so late. He started off by making some snide comments about me being gone. When I told him the reasons, he blew up and claimed that he could smell beer on my breath. He didn't say it, but I could tell he was worried that I was… with… another man."

Tom responded immediately. "Well, I can talk to him if you want. I'll make sure he understands that we were working on the project together and that we had a couple of beers to celebrate its completion. Surely he'll understand."

Tom and John had played golf together a couple of times. He thought he could make John realize that everything was on the level.

Sandy sniffed and looked away. Tom figured there was something else she wanted to say. He sat back and stared at the trees.

Finally, she turned and looked at him. "I don't know if that's going to solve this."

"John seems like a reasonable man. I think he'll understand. You have nothing to hide, and that should be made clear to him."

Sandy stared at him impassively for a few seconds.

"Tom…" She stopped. Obviously she wanted to say more, but he could tell by looking at her that she didn't know how.

He smiled at her. "Sandy, before you go on, let me just say that over these last years I feel like we've become good friends. We have lunch together, we work late together, we make fun of Chris together. We both know things about the other that no one else knows. That's the kind of a relationship that only two co-workers can have. I hope you will feel comfortable telling me what you're feeling, even if it's not related to our work."

Sandy looked back at him. Her soft blue eyes found his, and suddenly they were locked in one of those gazes that made Tom's heart melt. 

"I think this goes deeper than that. John and I… have been having some problems. Oh, I don't know if I should tell you all of this."

"Sandy, you wouldn't have asked me to come out here with you if you didn't want to talk about it. Let's hear it."

She broke the gaze and stared at the trees. "OK. I will tell you all of this, because you're my closest friend right now. But please, let me say everything I have to say before you interject."

Tom sat back on the bench and joined her in her inspection of the trees. "When you're ready."

She sighed. "About eight months ago my niece had a bachelorette party. She was marrying this guy she met at college. They are both pretty young, and I was the oldest woman at the party. The night started at a bar, and they all got pretty tipsy. I only had a couple of drinks myself, because I was the designated driver." She laughed ironically.

"That's probably why I was invited. Stuffy old Aunt Sandy, never gets drunk, but always willing to do the right thing. Always good for a ride home. Anyway, I had seven drunk women in John's Tahoe. I took it since I knew I suspected I was going to have to drive these girls around. I was about to head home when they started chanting 'Lexus! Lexus! Lexus!' at me."

Tom knew that the Lexus club was one of the male strip clubs. It was a common destination for bachelorette parties.

"OK, sounds reasonable. Then what happened?"

"Well, I let them talk me into it, since it was a Saturday night and I didn't have to be at work. We went there, paid the entrance fee, and walked in." She paused. Her face was flushed at the mere memory.

"Tom, these guys were doing things that I would never have thought of. I mean, I've seen male dancers before, but things have progressed a lot since my bachelorette party. We went to get ice cream! The girls in our party were sticking dollar bills into the guys' underwear, dancing lewdly with them, you name it!"

"Finally, as the night was coming to an end, the DJ playing the music asked for my niece to get up on stage. She went up, and no less than six of the dancers proceeded to perform strip teases right in her face. Everyone in the place could see it! I thought it was pretty bad, but I had no idea what was to come."

Tom glanced at her, and she was blushing more than he'd ever seen. 

"This must be really good," he thought to himself.

"Carol," (her niece) "was getting all the guys to sign autographs on a menu. She'd brought the menu and a black sharpie with her; I guess she knew what was coming. She said later that she wanted to keep it in her scrapbook. I can't imagine."

"Anyway the DJ made another announcement. He asked for 'Aunt Sandy' to come on stage. The girls with us were yelling at me, and everyone was cheering. I didn't want to seem like an old fuddy-duddy… so I climbed up."

"My God, Tom… the lights were so bright I couldn't see anyone off the stage. I expect that was intentional, so the models don't feel too self-conscious. Even though I'd only had a couple of beers, I felt drunker than I'd ever been. I could imagine myself as a stripper, with all these men leering at me and cheering for me. I… got a little excited."

Tom knew exactly what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Excited…?"

She looked at him for a second, then looked away again. "Sexually…"

"Ah… I follow. Then what happened?" "Well, it all seems a blur. What do remember is this: the dancers paraded around for a while, slowly stripping their clothes. After a while, someone whispered in my ear, 'Sit still, no one is going to hurt you. This is for your niece, remember.'" 

"I was terrified. I couldn't imagine what would happen that required a warning. I found out pretty soon, though…"

She looked back at Tom. He had been looking at her, trying to decipher if this story was turning her on. Fortunately, it looked like he was simply looking at her impassively.

She continued to look at him. "They unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my bra. I was about to jump and run offstage, but before I could a dancer flopped himself down in my lap. His legs squeezed my legs together so I couldn't readily get up."

Tom was interested before, but was now getting aroused. The mental image she painted was having an effect on him. Still, he tried to act unconcerned.

He spoke, "So… I trust nothing bad happened. I'd hate to thing anything traumatic happened and you hadn't told me about it."

She stared right at his face. "He had the sharpie. He pulled the lid off of it and wrote on me."

"Oh my God, this is hot." Tom thought to himself. Instead, he just said, "Damn, what did he write?" "He wrote 'I've been a bad girl' on my chest." Sandy never stopped looking at him.

"That was all that happened; they let me go and I got offstage as soon as I could."

Tom thought for a minute before responding. "Well, it seems like they took advantage of you, and that was shitty." He hoped she wouldn't take offense at his coarse language, but he figured she wanted his real opinion, or she wouldn't have told him all of this. "But, if that's all that happened, I don't see why John would be upset…"

"Tom… and I am mortified to say this aloud, but…" She stopped again.

"Sandy, I hope you consider me a friend, and that you're comfortable telling me anything. I am not going to change my opinion of you no matter what your next words are. I think there's a reason you invited me out here, and I'm happy that you think enough of me to confess all of this. But I also think you need to get something off of your chest, so to speak, so I hope you'll continue without feeling self-conscious."

Her face softened. He could tell that he'd said the right thing.

"Tom, I've never been more aroused in my life than I was right at that moment I ran offstage."

Wow. That wasn't what he expected to hear.

"Well, those places are designed to encourage feelings like that. What happened next?" He was almost salivating at the thought of what happened next.

"Well, I drove everyone home, and the girls were teasing me about what had happened. I pretended to be offended, but to tell the truth, I was almost about to come in my jeans."

"Jesus, I am too." Tom thought to himself. He tried to remain calm. "OK, so what then?"

"I got home late that night, almost midnight. John was still up waiting for me. He was a little drunk, I guess he got bored waiting for me so he had a few beers. He could smell the beer on my breath, but I assured him that I had only had a couple so that I could drive."

"He tried to embrace me, right there in the living room, but I was afraid that things would progress far enough that he might get my shirt off. Then he would see that message some male stripper had written on my chest, and not understand that it was just a joke."

"So, I told him I was exhausted and that I needed to take a shower before bed. I broke his embrace and went to take a shower. I was scrubbing as hard as I could on the sharpie marks on my chest, when I heard the door open."

Tom didn't want to interrupt her, as she seemed to be really pouring her heart out. He also knew that she needed to tell him, so he just sat back and nodded, without any emotion on his face. He knew that any overtly expressive body language now would scare her.

She continued, "I said to him that I was tired and just wanted to finish my shower and go to bed. But he was drunk, and said that I was his wife and I'd do what he said. Before I could stop him, he pulled open the shower door. I hadn't been in the shower long, and those sharpies are pretty damn hard to scrub off, so he saw what was written on me."

Sandy paused. She gathered her courage and continued.

"Well, to make a long story short, John nearly went ballistic. He grabbed my wrists and held them against the shower wall so that he could have an unobstructed view of me. He looked over my marking a couple of times, then looked directly into my eyes."

"Tom, I was so afraid he was about to hit me. I started babbling at him, telling him that it was all a mistake, but I couldn't explain it to his satisfaction. He just stepped out of the tub and walked away."

Tom absorbed all of this and replied to her, "Sandy, have you tried to explain that it was all just a stupid joke? That you had this happen against your will?"

She looked at her feet. "I've tried. He won't believe it. I think he believes that I had sex with another man that night. I begged him to believe me, but he won't have any part of it. He said that he wouldn't share his bed with a whore, and since then I've been sleeping in the spare bedroom. We haven't been intimate in nearly eight months."

Tom leaned back and looked into the woods. He was a little surprised that she had come to him with all of this, but he was glad she did. He had long wished that he could get close to her in some way, but her marriage and conservatism had always blocked the way. He realized that this was his opportunity. 

"Sandy, let me first say that this is not your fault. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you must not feel that you are due any blame here. Secondly, John is being unreasonable by not listening to your side of the story. I don't know if you want to hear my third observation…"

"Tom, I've been sleeping in the guest bedroom for eight months. We've been explaining it to the kids by saying that I have a contagious disease and that John doesn't want to get it; but after this amount of time I think they are starting to disbelieve that. At this point, I'm ready to hear any opinions."

"Sandy… are you sure you want my opinion? I tend to be a little more harsh than some people can deal with." "I know that, Tom, and that's why I asked you. Believe me, I've exhausted every other resource available: the pastor of our church, my sisters, my mother. They all seem to think that this is my fault. After all, it's hard to explain to your pastor or your mother why you were at a male strip club with some teenage girls in a way that illustrates that you were in the clear."

"Very well, Sandy. Here is my opinion: John is an asshole. In my view, he has been looking for an excuse to get you out of his life, and the incident you described provided it. If he was any kind of a loving husband, he would hear your side of the story. Moreover, he should believe you before anyone else, because you're his wife! You promised to take him for better or for worse, and it sounds like to me that he's jumping to conclusions so that he can find a way out of your marriage."

She stared back at him for a long time. Finally, she spoke. "Is that what you really think?"

Tom met her gaze evenly. He was at ease here; he was confident in his thought process.

"Sandy, I think that if he was any kind of good husband, he would have at least heard your side of the story. It sounds like to me that he had his own preconceived notions and decided to judge you based on them." She sat back on the bench and stared at the trees for a few minutes.

She turned to him and asked, "Tom, what would you have done if you were in John's place?" 

He sat back and thought about the question. This was tricky. If he said what he really thought, it could get uncomfortable. On the other hand, if he simply said what he thought she wanted to hear, he would be doing her a disservice. He decided to expose his true feelings.

"Sandy, if I were him, I'd have done anything in my power to make you realize that you were my wife, and that I loved you. I'd have let you finish you explanation, then accepted it regardless of whether I thought it was the truth or not. Let's face facts: You are a beautiful woman, on an altruistic mission to make sure your niece made it home safely. He should realize that you got caught up in some stupid teenage shenanigans, and that you were not at all to blame."

She looked at him. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

"Sandy, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it was true. In case I wasn't plain enough, let me add this: I would kill to marry a woman as attractive as you are."

She stared into his eyes for a long moment. It was bliss, locking her gaze. 

"Tom… I have had similar thoughts about you. I…"

He said nothing, knowing that she was going to say what she felt regardless of any interjection of his.

"…I have pictured your face when John was making love to me."

Wow. This really changed things. She wouldn't have said that if she wasn't… interested… in him. 

"Sandy…" He decided that it was now or never. She'd revealed enough to him that he could fearlessly proceed. If she got offended, he would back off, but his job would not be in jeopardy.

"Listen… I can't tell you how flattered I am to hear that. And to tell you the truth… well, I can't remember the last time I had an orgasm where you weren't the main attraction. If that sounds crude, I'm sorry, but I'm an engineer, not a poet."

She looked at him for a few seconds. 

"Tom, you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

"The feeling is mutual. But I think you need to consider things before we plunge into this. And…"

Tom knew this was the critical moment. He knew what he wanted from her, and he felt that she might be willing to give it, but the shadow of doubt crept across his mind.

He resumed. "Sandy, I broke up with Jenny for one main reason. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive. It wasn't that she wasn't smart enough. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in me."

There was a long pause. She looked directly into his eyes for the entire time. 

He sighed, and decided to press forward. It was now or never.

"Sandy, I broke up with her because she wasn't submissive to me."

She blinked. 

"I… what? What do you mean?"

He was looking at her intently, trying to gauge her reaction. He didn't see any disgust, but that might have been because she didn't understand what he was talking about. He needed to press her to gather more information.

"Sandy, this is sort of hard to explain. Jenny was such a nice girl. And in some ways, that isn't what I'm looking for. At least, I don't want a girl that's nice all the time. I think from what you know of me that you wouldn't be surprised to learn that I get uncomfortable when I'm not in control. I need to feel like I'm on top of every situation. Not necessarily overtly, but I need to know that I pull the strings on all the important things.

"For example: when Chris came in yesterday nearly in tears because of some changes to the design parameters of our project… I didn't panic. I told him that if we couldn't do it, no one could. That's because I already had in mind the solutions to that scenario, and every other scenario I could think of that might pop up. Why? Because I need to control the situation. I feel this craving to have things under my thumb, in a manner of speaking.

"No one would have blamed me, or you, if we hadn't been able to complete that redesign in one day. It would normally have been at least a week's worth of work. But I had already done a lot of the preliminary calculations for that kind of eventuality. Did you really think I could redesign that entire project in what… ten hours?"




Tom and Sandy Ch. 02



Author's note: I had to laugh… even though I wrote the very first part of this story well over a year ago, the line where Tom read on the internet that "Gas prices were up. The house market was down. There was some kind of a thing happening in Los Angeles today" still pretty much holds true today. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't laugh…

Also, thanks for the comments. Keep them coming. They're why I write it…

*

Eight A.M. Thursday found Tom at his desk. With a looming deadline, a reasonable person would have expected him to be hunched over, tapping furiously at the keyboard. Or perhaps performing calculations, inputting a few equations into Excel, or at least making preliminary drawings on a pad of paper.

Not this Thursday. 

Tom was sipping a cup of coffee, his feet on his desk. 

It was this pose that brought him his best insights. He would sometimes sit for an hour, hardly moving, coffee getting cold, while he ran through designs in his mind. It was relaxing. Tom had an innate sense that this was a design that could be accomplished with some creative engineering. He just had to cull it out of his brain and onto a drawing.

Sandy was late again. Eight thirty ticked by and still Tom sat, almost motionless, at his desk. The design was forming. She was driving. They'd both arrive before the coffee pot was empty. 

At eight-forty five, she strode by. She flipped a card onto his desk, hardly pausing. Before it landed, she was gone.

He blinked at the strange proceedings. No stranger, he supposed, than the events of the previous couple of days. 

He picked up the card. It was in a red envelope, perhaps the size of a Christmas card. Hefting it, he could tell that there was just a card in it, nothing more. He fished out his pocketknife and slit the side. Removing the card, he began to read.

It is with great pleasure that I R.S.V.P. for the event scheduled for this Friday evening. I hope that semi-formal attire is acceptable; as I have not had the opportunity to procure a dress slinky enough for the expected activities. In any case, I expect any wardrobe choice I make will only become wrinkled as it lies upon your bedroom floor for a minimum period of four hours. 

 Expectantly,

 Sandra

That smart-ass!

But Tom smiled. He expected her to make some sort of thrust at his boast from the previous day. He'd have been a little disappointed if she hadn't. Smile turning into a smirk, he took another sip. She'd soon find out whether it was a boast.

The design was finalized in his brain. It would involve some custom machined parts, but nothing a top-notch manufacturer couldn't handle. A precise shop drawing was in order to specify to the machinist what he required. This was what engineers got paid for.

Noon rolled around and he had hardly looked up. When Tom got in the zone, he was a whirling dervish of engineering creativity. The pumps he called out were standard, for the most part, with a few modifications to the normal blade lengths and intake valve diameters. A tweak to the diameter of the flow pipe at station 48+72 along the route ensured that the fluid velocity would remain within acceptable tolerances. The project was almost defeated. All that remained was to put it to paper.

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten breakfast, per his M.O. For his entire life, he had preferred to sleep the extra 20 minutes it would take to feed himself in the morning. By noon, he was usually hungry.

Rising, he pondered lunch choices. Luciano's was a bit overdone lately. Perhaps something… more exotic… today? 

"Thai it is!" he thought to himself.

"Lunch plans?" Tom poked his head around Sandy's door. She was gone. 

He hadn't seen her leave. Ah, well.

The pad thai was superb. He'd ordered it medium, as the Thai immigrants that manned the noodle stand were unforgiving to anyone who dared order it hot. They seemed to take it as a challenge. He had learned on his second trip to the place that if you ordered it hot, HOT was the way you were going to get it. Even crying uncle to the chef as he had, his forehead was beaded with sweat before he was done.

Tom arrived back at the office a few minutes before one. Sandy wasn't back yet. Odd, she'd left before him and would get back after. Wonder what she was doing? 

He continued to work on his project for another 45 minutes before he heard the front door open and close. Seconds later, Sandy darkened his doorway and stopped. 

"Yes'm?"

"Guess what I just did?"

"Flew to New York, had lunch, and flew back?"

"Nope!" She didn't flinch at his jab.

"Hm, made sixty three-minute eggs?"

"Nope!"

"Well, what then?"

"Went to the mall. Bought something for my… formal occasion tomorrow night."

"What did you buy?"

"You'll find out if you're good!"

She smirked, turned, and left his office.

"This was the best decision I've ever made," Tom thought to himself.

The day passed uneventfully. The project reached somewhere around the 10% stage. He spoke with Chris about the details, learning of a few minor modifications that needed to be made. Nothing major, so he didn't estimate any additional time would be needed. He should be ready to present his 30% proposal on the due date.

At 5:00, Sandy poked her head in the door.

"I'm going home!"

"Are you, then?"

"Yes!"

This good mood of hers was unprecedented. He cocked his head at her, not sure how to feel. 

"Well, I hope you have a good night."

"I won't. But, I bet I will tomorrow night! And for that, I'm happy."

He smiled at her. To gaze upon, she was so innocent. A youthful face, deep blue eyes, honey-colored locks cascading down around her face. He imagined what she'd look like with his semen dripping down her nose.

"I bet you will too."

Friday morning dawned clear and crisp. The air was still a bit cool. Spring was underway, the trees cautiously pushing forth blooms to beckon forward the onslaught of summer. Without the pressing heat of the season, they could not reproduce. Within it, there was a chance they'd be beaten into submission by the burning rays of a July sun. It was a reproductive dance that dated back to eons long forgotten. 

Tom left for work at 7:00. That would put him in his office at about 7:20. He hoped he'd be able to get some work done. As a precaution, he'd worked late into the night to get ahead, knowing that he would get nothing done today. His anticipation level was too high, and besides, he had plans for the afternoon. 

By 8:00 he'd caught up on the news. The Rangers had won. Only eight games out, now! If only the Angels would go into an 0-for-20 slump, they'd be right in it. If the A's would also lose a lot of games. And if Seattle didn't make a run. This might be their year.

Hope sprung eternal.

Sandy came in a few minutes after 8:00. She wore jeans, the best possible attire she could have chosen. Her ass was luscious in that pair, and Tom recognized that there was no chance that she could have missed that fact. She knew she had it, and today she was flaunting it. He smiled when she stopped in his doorway.

"Yes, ma'am?"

She said nothing. The grin she wore on her face was even more attractive than the denim that hugged her curves.

She looked upon him for a few seconds. Slowly, she sank into the chair in front of his desk. He broke into what he hoped was a winning smile. Finally, she spoke.

"Tom, I wanted you to know that I'm a little nervous."

"Why is that, Sandy?"

"Because I am afraid that I won't live up to what you're expecting."

"What do you think I'm expecting?"

"I… don't know. But I know your expectations are high, and to be honest, so are mine. I just wanted to tell you something…" 

She paused.

He didn't speak. She was gathering her thoughts, and he would be stupid to interrupt that. She'd tell him what she had to say when she was ready.

"Well, I just wanted to say that I am… well, I'm feeling a lot of things right now. I feel anxious. I hope I'm what you want. You might have to guide me. I just… well, I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing."

Tom nodded. She had more to say.

"I'm nervous. I trust you, but the amount of trust I've put into you is beyond anything I ever thought I would be able to summon for a man. I hope you understand that."

"I do."

"I guess most of all, I'm… oh God, Tom, I'm more aroused than I've ever been in my life. BUT! I want you to know that I have refrained from… satisfying myself… since I knew that I would be coming over. Tonight will be the first time I've… well, you know… since uh… Wednesday morning. In the shower, you know…"

He smiled.

"I promise that I will do whatever I can to make sure it was worth it."

"I'm glad to hear that."

There was more forthcoming.

Finally, she put her cards on the table. "Tom… can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Sandra."

"If I don't live up to what you are expecting, will you… teach me? I can be what you want, but if I'm not, the first time… will you show me the way? I am putting an enormous amount of trust in you, and I just hope that you'll be patient with me."

Tom considered. He was almost giddy with anticipation with regard to the night to come, but he knew he needed to assure her. She was right; the amount of trust she was placing in him was titanic. He had to admit to himself that he, too, hoped he could live up to her expectations. 

"Sandra, I want you to know that nothing you could say or do would disappoint me. If you decided that this whole thing wasn't for you, I'd expect only that you told me so, and I would shake your hand and we could go our separate ways. Don't worry about my expectations; my only hope is that we can enjoy each other while we have the chance."

Her eyes were suddenly wet. 

"How do you always know how to say exactly what I want to hear?"

"Just lucky, I guess." 

She blushed, arose, and walked to the door. Turning, she had one more thing to say.

"But don't count on me deciding any such thing."

Flashing that sexy smile, she was gone.

Tom tried to concentrate on his work. The morning slowly drifted by. He got a few mundane details taken care of, but overall, he was extremely unproductive. It was ok, because he'd known that such would be the case. His extra work in the previous days would keep him on schedule.

At noon, he walked down to Sandy's office. She was there, staring absently at her monitor. Noticing him standing in her doorway, she looked up and smiled. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"I… need the afternoon off. I have… an appointment… er… yeah, a doctor's appointment."

"Do you, now? Something I need to be aware of?" Her smile turned into a smirk. She enjoyed sparring with him.

"Yeah, I've got this burning sensation… well, it's more of a rash, really… I guess I might need some penicillin or something. I'm sure they'll be able to clear it up like they always do."

Her grin twitched. That look that he adored flashed through her visage. He always seemed to be able to turn her knobs. He hoped he'd be able to turn them correctly when it counted.

"Okay then. I will let Chris know. How is the project coming?"

Tom supposed that she did need some input from him regarding the drainage project. After all, it was a big contract and they did have a job to do. 

"It's in good shape. I'll be ready on Monday like I told him. The parts are pretty much off-the-shelf with a few tweaks."

"Great. I'm looking forward to the presentations you'll be making in the next few days." She winked at him. His knees nearly buckled at the elegance, the sensuality, of her long lashes fluttering at him. Her eye shadow was immaculate, as always. She was a real artist with her makeup.

"I think you'll be impressed."

"Really? I've been disappointed in the past. Sometimes the exhibitions don't even last five minutes."

"My God, what is her husband thinking? He should be fucking her twice daily, and at lunch on Thursdays!"

 He decided to play along. 

"I've got a long powerpoint that I think you'll enjoy. By the time I'm finished I think you'll be convinced that my way of doing business is in your best interests."

She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh.

"I'm not sure, there are a lot of contractors out there that will install pipe anywhere you want it."

"Yes, but you have to pay for it."

"A properly placed pipe is worth every penny."

He nearly lost control of himself. This woman was running with him, stride for stride. And she was getting the better of it!

"Sandy, when it comes to laying pipe, you want someone who does it because they enjoy it, not someone who only wants a paycheck."

"Seems to me that the only thing that matters is that the fluid flows when it's supposed to."

He stared at her, trying to resist a desperate urge to burst into laughter. She looked upon him steadily, but he could tell that she was fighting the same battle. They both knew she was about to win this verbal sparring match. He was drawing a blank!

Finally, inspiration struck.

"Sandy, in my experience, it's not the pipe itself that is important, but whether the final design satisfies the customer." 

Her eyes met his. He gazed at those gorgeous blue eyes, drinking in their depth. He knew he was out of ammo for this skirmish. Before she could respond, he spoke.

"I'll see you at five."

Turning on his heel, he left. 

Driving home, he noted that some gray clouds were gathering in the western skies. That was good; they needed some rain. His lawn was not greening up the way it had last year, when rain had been plentiful.

He had a few things to do before she came over. His plans for the evening were elaborate. He really did intend to show her the time of her life. Arriving home, he put the dog out and set about his preparations. The house was immaculate already, but he wanted it to be perfect. The bathrooms got cleaned. The dishwasher was run. The hardwood floor got a Swiffer-ing. 

Then, he set himself to preparing dinner. He was actually a pretty fair cook, if his friends were any judge. For the evening, he had chosen something fairly light, as he didn't want any heavy food to slow down their later activities. Capellini, angel hair pasta to the American tongue, with seared chicken breast and a white wine sauce would be the main course. For an appetizer, some bruschetta, and a nice crème brûlée for dessert. To complement the proceedings, he had chosen a chardonnay to be served at request throughout the entire meal. He had bought 3 bottles; although he didn't expect that they'd consume all of that, he did not want to be found wanting as far as anything was concerned. This was to be a night for indulgences.

Five o' clock arrived. He knew she'd be taking off from work about now. It was a twenty minute drive, for a woman who didn't stop off for a drink or two to steel her courage. He wasn't exactly sure when she'd arrive. 

POP!

The cork on the first bottle of chardonnay announced its departure from the snug home it had recently occupied. He poured himself a glass and sipped on it as he buzzed about the house, making sure that everything was in readiness.

The doorbell rang at 5:30. Tom strolled to the front door, half-empty wine glass in hand. He nearly dropped it when he opened the door.

If there was a more angelic figure in heaven or earth, Tom had never even dreamed of it. She wore a sheer white dress, with spaghetti straps over her shoulders, and a diving neckline. Her hair had been retouched so that her long curls flowed fresh around her shoulders. Her waist contracted as seductively as always, but now was set off by a black sash circumnavigating her luscious tummy, terminating in a loose knot just underneath her navel. The hem of the dress hung loose just above her knee. White hose hugged her slender legs, their pristine paleness offset by a pair of black heels. It was his favorite pair; opened toed, but with a strap slung high around her heel. He suspected she'd caught him eyeing them, and knew to wear them tonight, as it was seldom that she chose them for her work attire.

Her immaculate curves were perfectly presented while she stood demurely in front of him. The dress hugged her hips; it must have been custom tailored to fit such an exquisite figure. Not many women could pull this off. The average woman would have just looked silly in a dress cut so. For anyone without the blessing of Marilyn Monroe's hourglass proportionality, that dress would have been tight at the waist and loose at the hips. She must have expected that he'd want to drink her in; she'd never wear something this formal to work. It was a good thing she didn't, because none of the male employees would ever get any work done if she did. 

The only thing missing was a halo. 

"You're late." 

Her eyes widened at his authoritative tone. 

"I… well it's a bit of a drive… and I…"

She blushed when she saw him smiling at her.

"Just kidding, Sandy. There's no need to be nervous. I'm just as anxious as you are, but you are welcome here."

She flashed a smile, and entered. 

"Oh, hey, why don't you pull your car into the garage? That way it won't be visible to anyone who happens to drive by…"

She took his meaning. She walked back out and after he opened the garage door for her, she pulled her Kompressor in. Holding out his arm, he escorted her inside.

She surveyed his house anew. It had been 48 hours since she'd been there, but the accommodations were fresher now, more studiously attended to. Tom was glad he'd spent the extra time tidying up. 

"Wine, Madame?"

She seemed startled by his sudden appearance beside her with a fresh glass. She'd been looking around, and hadn't noticed him slip off to pour her libation. 

"Yes, I'd love some, thank you."

"Let me know what you think of it. I find that the 2001 vintage California chardonnay was pretty respectable as far as that genre of wines goes."

She suppressed a smile, but took a sip. 

"Tastes fine to me." 

"Great, because that's all we have! I'd hate to think of us forcing down an entire bottle of bad wine…"

She peered at him over her glass. He was dressed in his slacks, with a blue polo shirt that he felt made the best of his slightly-above-average musculature. He wore socks, and as always, a pair of brown leather shoes that looked ok in most situations.

Tom cleared his throat.

"Sandy, I wanted to tell you that I really appreciate you being here tonight. It isn't often that I get to cook for such an exquisite woman."

"It's my pleasure… sir."

His eyes snapped up. She was blushing deeply, but her eyes were locked on his. He knew that what she had just said spoke volumes about her intentions. 

"That isn't necessary… tonight. Tonight, we are a couple on a date. And I think you'll be swept off your feet. What you are about to go through will truly be an… orgasmic… experience."

Her blush deepened. 

"And then, after dinner, I'm really going to show you a good time!"

She burst into laughter.

Collecting herself, she spoke.

"Tom… every word you say makes me feel reassured that what I have done is the right thing. It makes me forget about my problems. Most of all… well, since I promised I'd be honest with you… it makes me want to just skip dinner."

Tom took two strides and wrapped his arms around her waist, being careful not to cause her to spill any wine. 

"Sandy…"

"Yes, sir?"

Her blue eyes fluttered at him, with a desire that couldn't be missed. He gazed at her for a pregnant second.




Tom and Sandy Ch. 02



"Don't think you're getting out of eating my cooking."

She giggled, with that bubbly affectation that had always made him feel warm inside, and buried her head into his chest. He enveloped her with a warm embrace. 

"I'm glad you're here, Sandy."

A refill of the wine glass later, Tom placed a platter of pasta and chicken before her. He sat across his modest kitchen table from her with his own serving. He'd made the portions small; he wanted her to be satisfied with more than just dinner tonight, and stuffing themselves would hardly lend itself to that goal. 

They'd finished the salads while chatting about mundane things. He'd asked her if anything important and happened that afternoon. Predictably, it hadn't. Very little got done on Friday afternoons. 

She complimented him on the bruschetta. It was actually a less impressive dish than it looked; toast some bread, drizzle with olive oil, put on some cheese, basil, and tomatoes, and you have a quintessential appetizer that screams, "Italian!" But it did make a good impression, and that was the key.

She carefully wound her fork around the pasta, then speared a piece of the chicken. He had been thinking about something, and felt that now was the time to broach the subject.

"Sandy, we've talked about a lot of things in the last few days, but there are a few things I still don't know."

She looked up at him, mid-bite. She put her fork back down, brow furrowed.

"Like what?"

"Well… like what is your favorite color?"

"Green."

"What is your favorite song?"

"Love Song."

"Tesla, or The Cure?"

"The Cure."

"Whew, I was about to have to kick you out of the house."

She smiled at his jest.

"What shall we do about… responsibility… tonight?"

She frowned for a second, then understanding dawned on her.

"Well, if you mean birth control, that's taken care of. Even though I haven't needed it for eight months, I've kept taking the pill."

Relief flooded him. He hated condoms. Wearing one would have put a serious cramp in his style, especially tonight. It would seriously disrupt the fantasy he had planned for their evening. Although he had bought some just in case, he was praying that he wouldn't need them.

"Excellent."

"And how are you planning to protect me? After all, I hear that you often catch a ride home with… ladies… you meet at bars?"

"Ah… well I'm sure the penicillin I got from the doctor this afternoon will clear that right up."

She smiled at him over another fork full of pasta. She'd been friends with him for years. They both knew he was only extending the joke he'd started in her office that afternoon.

With respect to the meal, everything had come out to Tom's satisfaction. He was no master chef, but he could make a nice dish when he wanted to. The main course was tasty, and when it was finished, Tom admonished her to stay where she was, because there was one more course to be served.

After clearing the dishes and dumping them into the sink, he went to the refrigerator and grabbed the ramekin with the crème brûlée. It was not quite finished; he sprinkled some sugar on the top of it and snagged the kitchen torch he'd obtained just for these kinds of occasions.

Sitting the dessert on the table, he paused for effect. She glanced at it, and then at him.

With flourish, he produced the torch. Clicking it to life, he swiftly brushed the blue cone of flame across the freshly sprinkled sugar. After a few seconds, it began to brown and glass over.

When it was finished, he extinguished the flame and took a bow.

Looking up, he saw her looking at him with a bemused smile on her face. 

"I'm impressed. There's nothing better than a man that can handle a miniature cutting torch without setting his kitchen on fire."

"You should be impressed. That was… well, really, it was exactly as hard as it looked. But check this out!"

He produced the two spoons that had been hidden in his other hand. 

She chose one. Returning to his chair, he gestured for her to make the first move. The table was small enough that they could both reach the dessert. 

"Now, you know how to do this, right?"

Her eyes met his, and she smiled at him. Her eyes sparkled for an instant before she swiftly brought her spoon down on the glassy surface of the caramelized sugar. 

It cracked into several pieces. Just as it was supposed to.

Without a word, she scooped up a bit of the custard. Instead of eating it, though, she extended her hand gracefully to his lips.

Staring straight into his eyes, she spoke.

"If it pleases you, sir, may I serve you tonight?"

"Oh God."

 Tom's dick twitched. He suddenly cared nothing for the dessert. At this moment, he wanting nothing more than to fuck this woman until she begged him to stop. Although he'd wanted to do that very thing for years, tonight was the first time he would actually fulfill that fantasy. He intended to enjoy every one of these little moments.

He opened his mouth and she gently slid the spoon into his mouth. He took the bite of the crème brûlée and slowly ran his tongue through the rich custard. It was spectacular. The perfect ending to a wonderful meal with the woman he'd been looking for since he was old enough to be looking. 

Taking a spoonful with his own utensil, he fed her a portion. Her gaze never left his. She took the spoonful, then closed her eyes. She enjoyed the mouthful to its fullest. 

After a few seconds, she sighed contentedly, then slowly opened her eyes again. He was gazing at her intently. 

Their eyes met.

They smiled at each other.

The spoons clattered on the table as they both rose from their chairs. 

Sandy accepted Tom's outstretched hand and let him lead her to his bedroom.



Tom and Sandy Ch. 03



The door to his bedroom was closed. He'd planned this. He wanted the vision of the room where she'd spent this evening, and hopefully many more, to appear all at once. 

Turning to face her at the door, he pulled her close to him.

"Sandy, I will never be able to tell you what I'm feeling right now. I can honestly say, though, that right now, in this moment, I would not trade places with any man on earth."

"Tom…" her breath was coming in pants.

He interrupted her. "I want you to know that what we do in this bedroom defines us only until we leave it. It changes nothing in the outside world. But in this room, we are lovers eternally bonded to each other, and I would have it no other way. What transpires tonight will remain with us always."

"Tom…" 

He had something to say, though, so he didn't let her finish. "I want you to release yourself to the pleasure that will consume you, body and soul. We will always be as one in this room. In here, you need never feel shame of any kind."

"Tom…"

He had more to say, but she sounded impatient.

"Yes?"

"I need you to fuck me right now."

He opened the door to his bedroom. The wooden floors gleamed in the light of the four large candles he'd placed in it. The windows were open; a fresh outdoor breeze blew through. It smelled of rain. The curtains were mostly drawn so they'd have privacy from any nosy neighbors, but at their edges the wind was able to find its way through. The thunderstorm rumbled in the distance. 

His king-sized bed was freshly made from the afternoon he'd spent preparing the house; underneath the duvet were freshly washed sheets. The low light from the flickering candles wrought mysterious images across the walls. The rising winds blowing through the large window across the room from the door caused the lighting to dance seductively.

He suddenly reached down and scooped her up into his arms. 

"Sandra Wright, as I carry you across this threshold, I bid you to accept me as your lover and eternal partner in pleasure. I promise to have you and to attend to your every need, as long as we both agree to this pact. Do you accept my proposal?"  

"I do."

Without another word, Tom carried her to the bed and gently laid her across it. She was light; a weight that he easily and gladly hefted. Her eyes were glued to his throughout the symbolic crossing of a new threshold. He could tell that she understood what his symbolism meant. She was not married to him, but bonded to him just as tightly as her husband, now. 

Her knees were bent across the side of the bed and her feet dangled off. His bed sat high on risers, so her feet did not touch the floor. He arose from where he had gently laid her on the mattress, and then slowly sank to his knees on the floor.

He gently took her left foot in his hands and slipped the ankle strap off. After pulling the shoe off and sitting it on the floor under the night stand, he repeated the process with the other foot. Her feet were compelling; he'd always admired that they were toned, yet the skin on her calves and ankles was soft and supple despite the obviously taut muscles underneath. He would pay more attention to her feet on another night; now he had other concerns. 

Rising to his feet, he looked down upon her. She was breathing heavily, and flushed with arousal. Her dress had risen up to mid-thigh, and he nearly gasped when he saw that she had worn stockings instead of pantyhose. He could see the lacy elastic upper rings that clung to her thighs, and the thought of her legs wrapped around his waist while wearing them brought him to nearly complete erection.

He bent at the waist across the mattress so that their torsos were together. He could feel her breasts pressing upon him through the fabric of her dress and his shirt. Finally, after years of pining, he was able to look directly into her eyes in the way he'd always wanted: from a distance of less than an inch. She made no move to look away. They paused for a long moment. Her eyes were clear, her face tense with anticipation. He was in control. 

This was what he'd dreamt of.

He kissed her. Pressing his lips to hers, he found them to be soft and pliant. She yielded; his tongue slipped into her mouth. She reciprocated with fervor. To his mind, she tasted like a woman that had been trapped for years in a marriage that held no intrigue to her. He imagined that her tongue tasted of unfulfilled passion on the brink of satisfaction. Their tongues entwined passionately. He loved the taste of his boss.

Her tongue danced with his in a tango that had been years in anticipation. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment. He was about to make love to the woman of his dreams.

"Sandy, I want you to raise your arms above your head."

His eyes were less than an inch away from his. Her blue eyes reflected deep longing; passion withheld against her will. She needed this as much as he did. She would do whatever he wanted. Her lips trembled as she murmured her consent.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

Her arms slid across the duvet cover slowly. Her eyes never left his. Soon, her fingers interlocked, her arms stretched comfortably above her head.

"Don't move until I tell you to."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. He knew that this woman who had been married for over two decades would know what was coming. He continued to look deep into her eyes for another few seconds. She gazed back at him, with arousal in her visage. More than that, there seemed to be something more than sexual excitement there.

He slid down her body, nibbling on every section of skin that presented itself. Her neck was exposed; he spent a few seconds there. Her skin was soft, pliable. It hearkened back to an animalistic instinct; that this woman would let him suck on her neck while lying so submissively indicated that she trusted him completely.

He decided against putting a hickey on her neck. Although he wanted desperately to mark her as his, he knew that this would cause problems for her upon the inevitable inspection her husband would subject her to. He thought to himself, "Soon…"

The straps on her dress had fallen slack when she'd raised her arms. The tops of her breasts were exposed and heaving. She was panting with anticipation. He planted a kiss on the top of her left breast. 

Leaving a trail of saliva across the top of her white dress, he made his way down to her thighs. He started to raise the hem of her dress so that he could taste her womanhood. This was a moment they'd never forget.

Suddenly, a primal instinct arose in him. He stopped before diving into the treasure that was so very close to him. There was something he needed to do, first.

"Sandy, stand up."

A confused look crossed her face. She hesitated, then let her hands fall to her sides. She scooted off the bed, and slowly, stood up.

Dismay registered across her face. She was thinking that he had changed his mind. Her arousal would go unfulfilled this evening, she thought.

"Tom… I…"

He interrupted, "Sandy… before we do this… I'd like you to be naked."

The confusion in her eyes instantly changed to lust. She understood. He wanted her as she was born; innocent, trusting, and exposed. Before he could begin with this, the most important coupling either of them would ever undertake, he wanted to see her as she was when she was born. He needed to see her as she was when she was a virgin. This was not her wedding night; regardless, tonight was a night to consummate a new union.

Before he could devote himself to her pleasure, he needed her to be completely naked. 

She looked again into his eyes, and after a few seconds, nodded. She turned around and leaned at the hips onto his bed.

"I present myself to you, sir."

"Jesus… Why didn't I do this years ago?" Tom thought to himself.

He found the zipper toward the top of her back. Slowly, he pulled it down. Every agonizing second brought more of her back into view. Her skin was so pale, so soft. It was pristine, virginal. 

Even before the zipper reached her hips, he could tell that she hadn't worn a bra; she hadn't needed one. The dress was equipped with padded supports for her breasts. The lifts had given her the cleavage that he'd been eyeing all night. Pulling the sides of the dress from her body, he slipped it down to her waist. 

He immediately noticed that her breasts hadn't needed much support. The cleavage was gone, but her breasts hung proudly from her chest while she leaned over his bed. He'd always admired the rack she presented in a t-shirt, but he always thought that it was some sort of form-fitting bra and nothing natural. He could see now that he was wrong about that. 

"Her husband is such a fool…"

She remained bent over his mattress at the waist, with him behind her, while he slid the parted dress down to her hips. He reached around her and caressed her belly. She shivered at his touch. Her honey colored hair fell around her shoulders, some strands resting on her shoulders, while others hung in front. 

"Raise your arms again, I need to pull this off of you."

She stood up and did as he had instructed. Tom couldn't resist running his hands up her belly and cupping her breasts. This was one of the most erotic poses any man could imagine about a woman; standing with arms raised, tits exposed. 

Lifting from the waistline, he pulled her dress off of her. Throwing it onto the hardwood floor, he took her in. She wore no panties! Earrings and the stockings was all she had on. And of course, her wedding ring. 

Beauty incarnate.

Her body was perfect. Her skin was alabaster; having never been a fan of the beach, nor of tanning salons, she'd managed to keep most of the damage that the sun would afflict at bay. Her back was white, but her skin was smooth and unblemished. Not even a freckle presented itself. He could spend many an evening giving that back a massage, and if his previous experience with women was any indication, he expected that he would. For the first time, he was glad for that. Of course, she'd need to pay him back…

Her waist contracted down nicely, only to swell again at her hips. And… 

"Oh my God… that ass…."

For the first time, Tom was seeing it. He had somehow expected that it would be supported by some kind of girdle, or a nicely fitting undergarment, or hell, surgically enhanced… something! But no…

It was completely natural. There was not a mark on it. Not a birthmark, not a mole, not the bruises that Tom would have expected to be present from the pounding her husband should have been giving it every night. Ivory hued, and curved in just the right places. Starting from her narrow waist, her outline swelled in perfect proportion, to present the perimeter of a knee-buckling profile, only to contract again at her thighs. Looking her over from ankle to neck, her legs swelled at just the right point so that her perfect posterior seemed completely normal, but when viewed on its own, it seemed celestial. 

It was plump without seeming fat. She was voluptuous in just the right spots, but athletic in all the rest. There was nothing else in the world that Tom had rather be looking at right now. 

This mother of two, this woman in her mid-forties was in possession of possibly the nicest ass that ever walked the earth. And it was completely natural. His erection, threatening to fade after he'd spent time undressing her, sprung back to life. 

He told her, "Don't turn around yet."

He stepped back, considering. He was extremely aroused, and the thought of the stockings sliding against his hips while he was making love to her didn't reduce that fact. But tonight, he needed more of a commitment. 

"I'm going to take your stockings off."

Sandy turned her head over her shoulder. "I wore them for you." He could hear a bit of disappointment in her voice.  "Yes, my dear, and I appreciate it. They are sexy, as attractive as I could ever have hoped. I will expect you to wear them again in the future. I can't wait to feel them rubbing against my skin. But tonight… well, tonight I have something else in mind."

She turned her head back around, so that she was looking straight ahead again, away from him. She did not attempt to move her hands from the bedspread. 

"…May I ask what that is?"

He could sense a bit of trepidation in her voice. He knew that she had no idea what he would demand, and every action of his was going to be played into a thousand possibilities.

"Yes, my dear. Tonight, we will consummate this agreement that we've forged. We've been friends since the first day we met each other. But tonight, before dawn, we will know so much more about each other than we've ever known before. For that occasion, I want us to both be as naked as the day we were born. Because tonight, we will both be reborn into a new union." 

She shuddered, but did not respond.

After a few seconds, he hooked his fingers into the tops of the bands of her stockings. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulled them down from her legs. Oh, God, those were nice legs. Athletic and toned, he found himself wishing that they'd been wrapped around him, instead of her husband John, for the last twenty years.

Pulling the stocking from one foot, then the other, he cast each aside. All that remained were a couple of baubles.

He stood up and reached up to her ears. She tensed when he touched her, then relaxed when she realized what he was doing. If anything, she seemed to climb even higher.

"Even those, huh?" She didn't turn her head to ask him the question.

"As the day you were born, Sandra."

Carefully removing her earrings, he sat them on the night stand. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her up, then turned her around to face him. Peering into her face, he could sense deep arousal, deeper than any he'd been privileged to witness in all his life. He kissed her again.

Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped that beautiful ass of hers. Gently massaging it, his dick seemed to swell to proportions heretofore unknown. Opening his eyes just a bit, he saw that hers were closed. Her chest was rising and falling quickly. She was enveloped in ecstasy.

Breaking the kiss, they opened their eyes together and gazed tenderly at each other. She smiled softly at him. Despite all the uncertainty that surrounded the situation and that no doubt swirled in her mind, they both knew that this was where they both wanted to be. This was… right.

He whispered to her. "One more thing."

She looked up at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to speak again. Then, her eyes opened a bit further, registering her understanding. This was no small requirement for her. It signified that she was stepping out into open air, and was depending upon him to catch her.

She slowly raised her left hand and placed it on his chest. Even without breaking the sensual eye contact they were sharing, he felt her spread her trembling fingers.

Tom gently removed her wedding ring.

"I know this is still a precious symbol to you, Sandy. I will not desecrate it."

He turned, and carefully placed it on the dresser. The stones faced away from the bed.

Turning back to her, he embraced her firmly, his hands clasped behind her back. She looked up at him, with more emotion than before.

Burying her face into his chest, he could feel tears smearing against his skin. He hugged her tight against him. Her body was voluptuous in his embrace. Her eyes were moist as she whispered to him, "That means more to me than you can know. I… well… everything you do makes me more devoted to you."

He whispered into her ear, "I know what you mean. I respect all that you've accomplished, as an engineer, and as a woman. I will never ask you to forget that. But tonight, we belong to each other, and no one else."

She blinked back a tear, and nodded at him. 

He took a step back. Slowly, he began pulling his shirt from where it had been tucked into his slacks. She took a step to close the gap, and said to him, "Sir, if I may?"

"I hope this night never ends."

 "By all means, my dear."

She continued pulling his shirt up his torso. His abdominal muscles were clenched with anxiety, the tension that he felt drawing him toward her. He raised his arms, and she pulled his polo shirt over his head. 

After a moment's thought, she sank to her knees. The entire way down, she never broke eye contact. Those beautiful blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The gaze they shared was broken when she looked down toward his feet. Untying his shoes, she removed them, as well as his socks. She threw them into the growing pile, along with her dress and underthings. Looking back up at him, they locked into another loving stare.

She smiled at him briefly, before reaching toward his belt. Her fingers loosened it, then proceeded to open the button. Slowly, carefully, she pulled his zipper down. She had to press against the lump in his slacks to get the zipper over it.

Reaching up to hook her fingers under the belt, she pulled down his pants, taking his boxers with them. He stepped out of the garments as in as graceful a manner as he could muster. 

Thunder rumbled, louder than before, through the open window.

For the first time, she glanced down at his manhood. It was rock hard, and only inches from her face. She sucked in her breath as she took in the sight.

Without removing her eyes from Tom's erect penis, she murmured to herself, "My God, Tom, it's beautiful."

She looked up at him. Her face took on a serious countenance, yet her lips curled at their corners into a smile. He knew what was about to happen.

Tom closed his eyes, leaned back further against the dresser, and prayed that he would be able to be what she was expecting.

She engulfed him. 

The warm, wet sensation around his dick was bliss. He felt her take four, five, six inches of it into her mouth. Pulling back, he knew that was as much as she could handle. Only an inch to go before she'd have had it in its entirety. As horny as he was, he hoped that he'd be able to last as long tonight as he'd boasted. He hoped that she'd be happy with what he had to offer her. He wanted to make her feel like a woman again. More than anything, he never wanted his dick to be anywhere else besides somewhere in her body. 

He drew a slow breath into his lungs, trying to remain in control.

Slowly she withdrew her mouth from his erect manhood. Lazily opening his eyes, he looked down at her. He was afraid he was about to come when he saw that her blue eyes were still locked on his. Without breaking the stare, she took him into her mouth again.

The picture of pure submission.

Again and again, she took him nearly to his base into her warm mouth. He could feel her tongue swirling around the underside of his penis. It was fortunate for him that he'd spent so many years working on his control; otherwise it might have been a very short night. This woman knew what she was doing.

After a few minutes of her exquisite blowjob, he reached down and pulled her up to him. Fiercely, he kissed her on the mouth. He could tell she was a little startled; he knew right away that John was not the kind of man to touch her lips after they had been wrapped around his cock. But tonight, she was not with John. She was with someone who adored her. His tongue swirled around hers passionately. 

"Lie on the bed." He commanded her in a soft voice. This was the moment he'd been dreaming of since the day he'd met her. Strangely, the blowjob was not what he had fantasized about. Given the choice, he'd always known that he would prefer to give oral sex to her, rather than receive it from her. 

She knew he was a good employee; he wanted to show her what kind of lover he could be.




Tom and Sandy Ch. 03



She fell back upon his bed. Her legs instinctively parted, ready for him to penetrate her. He expected that she'd already been a part of this scene, but the next act would be one that she had not often rehearsed.

For the first time, her pussy was visible to him. It was groomed, but not shaven. Her labial lips glistened in the candlelight; he knew that she was highly aroused by the preceding activities. He intended to sate that arousal several times before the night was ended. 

Starting at her feet, he kissed his way up her beautiful legs. She was shivering at every touch. Sliding onto the bed with her, he stopped his advance when he reached her hips. He'd been keeping his eyes on hers the entire time, knowing that she'd probably be surprised at what was to happen next. 

Without looking away from her, he lowered his face and ran his tongue along her inner thigh. 

Her eyes got wide.

He pushed her feet up toward her body, so that her knees were in the air. He arranged himself so that his face was mere inches from her womanhood. Smiling, he lowered himself to her, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He wanted to watch this. 

Her eyes got even wider.

She was clearly anxious. From what she'd told him of her husband, he knew that this was not the sort of treatment that she was used to. He wondered if she'd ever been treated to oral sex. He strongly suspected that she had never been treated to the level of pleasure that she was about to get. He prided himself on his skill at eating pussy. If there was one way to make a woman adore you, this was it. He'd always been good at everything he enjoyed doing, and he absolutely loved to go down on a beautiful woman.

And Sandy was the most beautiful woman he'd ever been with.

Slowly, deliberately, he ran the tip of his tongue along her outer labial lip. She twitched at his touch, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She laid her head back on the duvet, hardly daring to believe that this was happening.

Placing the tip of his tongue at the lower part of her vaginal canal, he let it slide upward. Tom's tongue glided slowly from the bottom of her vagina to the top of her clit. The moisture was plentiful, the taste exquisite. By her reaction, he knew that John had never treated her to this.

"What a fool John is."

 She tasted like… well there was no other way to describe it… she tasted like a woman. A woman in need.

He swirled his tongue around her clit gently. Letting his tongue guide him, he glided down and probed her vaginal canal with the tip. Her right hand reached down and caressed the back of his head. Running her fingers through his hair, she gently pushed him further into her. 

His tongue pressed deeper into her pussy, gently fucking her, searching for that most sensitive spot. He didn't know if it was long enough to reach, but he knew that they'd both enjoy the search. 

"Oh, Tom… That feels so good."

He smiled inwardly, as his lips were currently in no position to do it outwardly. Pulling his tongue from inside her, he slid it upward and used it to gently massage her clit. 

She let her left hand join her right, clasping them both behind his head, pulling him toward her. He absolutely loved it when a woman did that to him. With increasing vigor, he began a steady rhythm of circular motions around her love button. If her pussy lips were swollen before, now they were straining against her skin. Although he couldn't see any part of her except her womanhood, belly, breasts, and face, every part of her that he could see was covered with goose flesh.

She needed this.

Pausing for a moment, he reached his right hand underneath his chest and brought his middle finger to his mouth. After sucking on it briefly, he pushed it against her cunt. It slipped in easily, and he used it to begin the search for that rough patch of flesh at the top of her vagina. Returning to his primary duties, he used his tongue to swirl gently around her clit once more, this time with a finger pumping in and out of her.

Sandy was breathing hard now, her magnificent chest heaving, while the several candles he had placed around the room cast flickering light upon her. The thunderstorm was close, now. Raindrops fell sporadically on the house, filling the room with an inconsistent staccato beat. Soon it would be pouring. He expected that he would witness two kinds of floods tonight.

With his left hand, he reached up to caress her right breast. She let her right hand slide up to cover his hand, pressing his hand into her soft flesh. Her left hand remained on the back of his head, urgently pulling him into her cunt as if she were afraid he would stop if she didn't. Perhaps she was -- Tom was fairly certain that she'd never had this kind of affection shown to her before. What she didn't know was that he wouldn't have stopped for anything in the world. She'd learn that soon enough.

Sliding his finger in and out of her, he continued to use his tongue to manipulate her clitoris. At this point, it was swollen further than he would have believed; it ran a full inch, from the top of her cunt toward her vaginal canal. Perhaps a quarter inch wide, it strained outward from her body, begging something to stimulate it. He obliged, using his tongue to make increasingly rapid circles around that ultimate symbol of her sexuality.

She moaned, loudly, this time. He knew she was starting to approach the brink. He wanted her to burst into ecstasy, with his face at the center of the explosion. He knew that she needed a release, from the stress of their jobs, from the anguish she lived with at home, from the duty of having to put on a happy face in public when she was anything but happy with her life. He knew that right now she was experiencing something that she hadn't been privileged to partake of for… well… in all likelihood, for her entire life. 

He wanted nothing more than for her to come in his mouth. 

Her moans grew louder and more frequent. She was getting close. He gently kneaded her breast with his hand, while at the same time using his finger to stimulate her cunt. His tongue was the baton to which the entire orchestra was conducted. Her body danced to the rhythm that it metered.

Her hips swayed gently, a delicate counterpoint to his ministrations. Her eyes were clamped closed, now. Her neck craned up, holding her head in position of rapture.

His experience told him that now was not the time to change anything. The experience she was having was about to become orgasmic. Everything was converging; the pressure, the sounds, the rhythm. Gradually she got quiet, consumed in concentration.

She was close.

She was his, body and soul.

With a violent shriek, she came in his mouth. 

Feeling her contractions, and hearing her cries, he withdrew his finger from her pussy and his hand from her breast, and used each respective hand to push her thighs upward. He maintained constant stimulation to her clit, knowing that this was the force that would push her through an incredible orgasm. 

Her pussy spasmed against his tongue. Her body convulsed. Her abdominal muscles flexed again and again, her hands clenched violently. The hand on the back of his head pulled him relentlessly into her. The other hand mauled her breast. 

Beginning with that familiar electric sensation that precedes orgasm, she began to cry out, with ever increasing volume.

"Oh… my… GOD! OH MY GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!"

As her orgasm ripped through her, her right hand slipped down to grasp his left wrist. Almost violently, she pulled against him, instinctively flexing her muscles to prolong the experience. He was struck by the urgency with which she pulled his arm. He resisted her, knowing that she needed some kind of anchor against which she could pull.

He pulled back, providing resistance against which to convulse. Their fingers intertwined. He felt his heart racing. At this moment, he had no other goal in life than to help her finish.

After ten, maybe twelve contractions, she began to relax. He slowed his ministrations. Keeping constant contact between his tongue and her clit, he helped her ride her decrescendo into a state of relaxation. More and more slowly, he swirled his tongue around her clit, until she finally stopped convulsing.

He pulled his tongue off of her genitals when he felt that she'd had enough. Wiping his face with his hand, he slid up to look into her face. What he saw there shocked him.

Normally, when he'd finished giving head to a woman, she was exhausted, ready for a break. The magnitude of the orgasm she'd just experienced would have wiped most women out for the night. A young woman would have wanted to go to sleep, or if she felt especially generous, let him slide into her briefly to get his satisfaction. 

Not Sandy. Her eyes stared back at his with an animalistic desire. She wanted, no needed, more. 

"Fuck me." There was no humor or friendship in her eyes. She was not making a request, she was giving an order. For her, it had been months. She was not even attempting to control the primal instincts that raged through her body. She needed sex; her entire being was dripping with her need. 

He pressed his lips into hers. Their tongues danced with each other. He positioned his hips just above her. Pulling his head back, they made eye contact again. Her irises were glazed over with lust. 

Staring into her eyes, he slid his dick into her. Her pupils contracted. She sucked in a breath as he penetrated her completely.

Her tightness surprised him. Normally when a woman was this worked up, he went in with little resistance. Sandy's narrow waist indicated more than just her belt size.

Pulling about halfway out, he thrust again smoothly. He knew that this would require precise control. The danger, for him, was greatest in these first few moments. Until he settled into a rhythm, it was more difficult to resist the overwhelming temptation to explode.

She laced her fingers behind his head. Pulling him back down to her lips, they locked in a deep French kiss. He reached under her head in a desperate attempt to pull her tongue further into his mouth. 

This was heaven. 

Slowly, at first, he began making love to her. She was panting; her need obvious. She was working her way back up the slope to another orgasm.

He felt her calves pressing against his ass. She had her legs wrapped around him, just as he'd fantasized about. His every thrust was accompanied by a flex of her legs. 

Her hands slid down his back, pressing, pulling, seeking some way to pull him further into her. Her breath came in gasps. His hands were still pressed against the back of her head, laced through her hair, massaging the back of her scalp. His eyes were closed in concentration. Their tongues caressed each other.

He had never felt so close to anyone. He knew that she needed him as much as he needed her. Tonight was a night of consummation. They would be forever linked as lovers, hearkening to Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra, Adam and Eve. Their souls would soon be intertwined.

He had found his rhythm. His need to explode was receding, giving way to the meter of his lovemaking. It was no longer a desperate sprint up the mountain of lust, but instead he made a steady pace toward the brink that he could clearly feel in the distance. He would know when it got close, and if he so chose, could slow his advance toward it. 

Sandy, however, was under no such constraint. She was rushing headlong toward another powerful release. He could tell from the increasing pressure on him from her legs, and from the way her tongue had found a new home in his mouth, that she was almost there again. 

He also knew from experience that this time would be better for her. An orgasm from his tongue was one thing; an orgasm with him inside her was something else entirely. He felt her steadying herself, trying to get the exact rhythm that would bring her over the edge. When she found it, he did his best to maintain that pace until she could climax again. She pulled back from his kiss in preparation. Her concentration was getting her there. 

Suddenly, she became very still. The electric rush was gripping her. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. They spoke no word. None was needed; this was a ritual dating to long before their primitive language had evolved. This was a dance that had been perfected throughout the ages. 

Her eyes glazed again. He knew that she was there. He opened his mouth and leaned forward, inviting her to share her orgasm with him through a second conduit. She craned her neck slightly to meet his lips with hers. 

Their tongues met again.

Her orgasm slammed into her.

He watched, seemingly in slow motion, as her pupils dilated with the sensation. She paused for a beat, then began bucking against him forcefully. Her tongue never stopped swirling against his. Her eyes stared, unseeing, at his face. 

As she was consumed with climax, he began pumping harder. She responded by breaking their kiss and moaning into his neck.

"Oh…God oh God oh God oh God…"

 One for each contraction of her vagina around his cock. This one was deeper, less startlingly sensational for her, but more fulfilling. More satisfying. Her legs were locked around his waist tightly. 

They never broke eye contact. It would always be a memory Tom would cherish; those soft blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight, gazing into his as she revealed her soul to him.

Twenty seconds later, she began to come down again. Her pussy was sopping wet, now. The resistance he'd felt earlier had been lessened, but there was still an erotic snugness to the velvety walls his dick was penetrating. 

He maintained his pace. Speaking to her in a voice barely louder than a whisper, he said to her, "Sandra, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

She smiled at him. "And I…" She paused, and then finished, "thank you." He wondered what she had been about to say.

He smiled down at her. "Well, that took an hour… only three to go! What shall we do?"

She laughed, her musical voice echoing off his wood furnished bedroom walls. "That was a fantastic fuck. Oh, God, Tom, I don't know if I've ever… well, no, I'm not sure I've ever come like that in my life. And twice in one night!"

He looked at her. "What do you mean? You've never come twice in one night before?"

"Well, yes, I have, but…"

"Yes…?"

"Well, it's just that usually it's 'one and done' if you know what I mean. I was always lucky to make even one with… my husband."

Tom noted the pause. He decided to ignore it for now. He remembered something. 

"Hey, what did you do at the mall yesterday? I never found out." 

She smiled at him. "I got those stockings."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I ruined that, didn't I?" 

"No! What you thought of was far more erotic than some thigh-high stockings. I wouldn't trade what we just did for anything."

"I do think they're sexy as hell. Will you wear them next time?"

"Sure. And I bought more than just the one pair."

"Great. So now… what can I do for you?" 

He eyed her nude body, spread out under him. His dick was still inside her, comfortably warm and still mostly erect.

"I think I have one more in me…"

"Just one! We'll see about that!" He grinned at her.

"Well, I'm a little out of tune here… I'm already starting to think that I might have trouble walking tomorrow…" She smiled impishly up at him. He figured no such thing. 

"Very well, my dear."

"And Tom? Could we… slow it down a little? I mean, that was a fantastic fuck, but could you… make love to me now? Slowly? Caress me? I have always wondered what it would be like to have love made to me in a long, sensual session?"

His eyes were nearly tearing up. He blinked them back, and smiled down on her. "It would be my pleasure, Sandra. Sounds like a great idea. Oh -- one thing… when you get close, let me know. I'll time mine so we can climax simultaneously."

She got an odd look on her face, but nodded.

The rain was driving, now. The roof rumbled with a deep staccato beat. From the window, the pastoral sounds of water splashing into puddles on the ground provided a relaxing ambiance. The fresh smell of rain filled the room.

He pushed himself up on his knees and began to make love to her, using his hands to massage her belly and breasts. He slid his fingertips around her nipples, her navel, her thighs. He occasionally let his thumb rub against her clit. He pulled her legs up against his chest. While he had her in that position, he sucked on her toes. She was no longer a woman possessed by his lovemaking, but instead she smiled softly up at him and caressed whatever parts of him she could reach.

They tried different positions. Her on top was very nice, as it let him get a better view of those luscious hips rocking back and forth. He especially liked her on her side, him spooning her. That gave him a perfect chance to kiss her lips and her breasts while he slid in and out of her. He had always wanted to take her from behind while she was in the classic doggy style position, but decided to save that for the next time. He had something else in mind for his first time with her.

After long while, she started to flush again and began bucking back against him with renewed vigor. Without her having to say a word, he knew that she was getting closer. He concentrated so that he could make good on his promise to come with her.

After another few minutes of lovemaking, she was breathing hard, obviously getting close. He had relaxed his controls to the point that he was almost there himself. Quickly turning her over from the spoon position they were in, he penetrated her missionary style. 

A flash of lightning outside the windows was followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder. The winds were stronger, now, and the candles flickered wildly. 

He murmured into her ear, "When you get there - I want you to keep your eyes open. I want to look directly into them while we come together. I have dreamed of that practically since the day I met you."

She nodded without smiling. "Yes, sir." 

A minute or two later, she was there. She gasped, "Oh God, Tom, I'm coming again!"

He was prepared. He already knew from her body language that she was almost at another climax. 

She wrapped her arms around his back. Her ankles locked around his waist. 

Her eyes stared directly into his. For the third time tonight, an orgasm washed over her. 

He felt his cock swell to its maximum. This was it.

He exploded inside her.

As she convulsed with him, he felt as if his entire body was being sucked out of him and into her. No orgasm that he'd ever experienced could hold a candle to this. Her blue eyes filled his world. Nothing else existed for him. She was the alpha and the omega. 

He cried out, pulling her tightly against him. Her glassy eyes flashed understanding when they saw his glazing over. 

He wanted to fill her. He wanted her to complete him. 

His brain made a fantastic connection while his orgasm wracked him. He suddenly understood something that had been skittering under his conscious thought for years. 

He continued to pump in and out of her for another minute or so. Even though his dick was softening inside her, her pussy still felt marvelous wrapped around it. They smiled and laughed, kissed, and whispered into each other's ears. If there was a more pleasurable place to be in the world, Tom couldn't imagine it.

After a few more minutes, she turned over and snuggled against him. He propped his head up on his hand and started to stroke her body lightly. Her skin, sensitive from their lovemaking, immediately got goose bumps. She sighed softly, but said nothing.




Tom and Sandy Ch. 03



In a few moments, she was asleep.

Tom continued to stroke her. He ran his hand across her back, massaged her breast, and at the end of every downward stroke, ran his hand over her hip before cupping her ass.

With a contented sigh, he laid his head down behind hers and draped an arm across her waist.

Just before drifting off to sleep, he couldn't help recalling the thought he'd had as he climaxed. It was as clear now as it was then. He knew that it was going to cause some problems, but just couldn't make himself care.

In that moment, he had realized that he was falling in love with her.

(Author's note: more to come, but I'm not sure when. The next chapters may take a little longer. I love getting feedback so let's hear from you!)