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My Fantasy Girl Ch. 01

By: raggmopp



This story is totally true within the limits of my memory. Even the names of the main characters are unchanged. Throughout the story I use italics to show my thoughts while with others and bold letters for sub-headings.

FIRST SIGHTING

The first time I saw my fantasy girl I was thirty-eight years old! Thirty-eight and married! Married, with three children!

It was November 1974. As an employee of a large management consulting company I was just starting a new project to design a computerized production planning system for a small manufacturing company

in central Pennsylvania.

As I rounded the corner in the L-shaped hallway of the office building, I saw two young, short, petite women about six steps ahead of me. I slowed my stride to match theirs while I admired them from behind. One was wearing jeans -- not high-style fashion jeans, just work jeans, but they fit her well. However, it was the other one who got my attention. She was wearing what was absolutely the shortest miniskirt I had ever seen in an office environment.

It was a full skirt made of a black, shiny, stiff fabric, possibly a taffeta. It was very fitted at the waist, then flared out over her hips and butt, and remained out in an A shape. The hem was no more than 2 or 3 inches below her crotch. Her legs, encased in a medium shade pantyhose, were as shapely as any I'd ever seen.

Short girls, even attractive ones, do not often have really nice legs; they are either too thin or the thighs are too fat or the proportion of the lower leg (from the foot to the knee) to the upper leg (from the knee to the hip) is not quite right. But these legs could have been used in a Hanes ad. The calf muscles were well defined but not athlete's muscles; the thighs were full enough but not fat, and they were perfectly proportioned.

She was wearing 3 inch heels, not stilettos but regular lace-up shoes with full heels. This style was fairly popular in the mid-70s; I always thought they were klutzy-looking, but they were practical.

When I finally raised my eyes above her waist I admired her overall shape and her hair, especially her hair. The color was a dark brown, with a rich, lustrous shine to it. It was straight down to her shoulders, then curled inward in a pageboy, a style which had been very popular in the 50's but was not common in the 70's. Above her skirt she wore a beige colored sweater.

The girls stopped at the second of two doors leading into the customer service department with miss miniskirt turning her back to the door while continuing their conversation. As I reached them I followed one of the principles taught to me in "Consulting 101" when I first joined my firm.. We were told to be friendly to everyone because, especially in the small town plants, you never knew who was related to whom; the lowest level clerk or janitor might be a relative of the plant manager.

So as I walked by them I turned my head and said "Good Morning". Having been interrupted, they turned to face me and returned the greeting. During the second or so I was facing them I took a mental photograph of miss miniskirt. As I continued down the hallway I "developed the photo".

Although she did several things to break it up, her face was round, very round - Charlie Brown with hair - beautiful lustrous hair. The pageboy continued around her head, but in the front both sides curled under her chin, a style made famous a few years later when Jennifer Anniston wore the same exact style on the TV show, Friends. In the front she had straight bangs down to her eyebrows with a center part behind the bangs. She wore glasses; thin, light blue plastic frames, a style popular at that time. Her hairstyle and the shape of the glasses helped offset the roundness of her face. Her nose was small and nicely shaped, but did not attract attention because her mouth did! Her lips were larger than I could recall on any other white girl I'd ever seen. Remember, this was before the age of Botox and the desire for large lips so common today.

All-in-all, she was very attractive but not beautiful, not in the classic sense. And she was obviously very young. I knew she had to be eighteen to work there but, especially with that tiny skirt, she looked like a junior high school student headed for class.

When I reached my destination, the data processing department, and met with Tom Chambers, the department head who would be doing the computer programming on my project, I told him about miss miniskirt. "Oh", he said. "you met Lissa. Actually, her name is Melissa but everyone calls her Lissa. Aint she a livin' doll?"

That's it, the perfect description. That really short skirt, that round face, those oversized lips, that beautiful not-a strand-out-of-place hair! Those are common features for a doll but not for a person. She's a living doll!

"Yes, she sure is. And now to a more boring subject." And with that we went to work. Later that day I went to the men's room and masturbated while thinking of Melissa.

SOME BACKGROUND ON ME AND MY ODDITIES

I did not immediately think of Melissa as my fantasy girl. She was just one more in a long line of girls, hundreds probably, that I'd seen over the years who matched the image I carried in my head. It was actually pretty simple. My ideal girl was short, petite, and attractive. I didn't have a preference on the color of her hair or eyes, or even whether or not she wore glasses.

It's probably obvious!! I'm short, maybe 5' 5" if I stand up really straight!

I've always been shorter than my peers. In elementary school where the teachers tended to seat us by size I always got the first desk in the first row. I was also younger than everyone else, having started when I was 5 and then skipped a year from 3rd to 4th grade. I was also always the smartest which did not win me any friends as I was the type of "brain" who nauseated my classmates by prefacing my answer with "oh, that's easy" before answering a question that no one else could answer.

My family moved frequently so I was constantly forced to make new friends. Outside the classroom I was popular amongst the boys as I was a pretty good athlete despite my size. As for the girls, they never liked me.

My mother bought lots of movie magazines like "Silver Screen" and "Photoplay". Those were the forerunners to magazines like "People" and "Us" today. I looked at them, always preferring the shorter movie stars. June Haver and Jane Powell were two of my favorites. Stars like Jane Russell and Anita Ekberg didn't turn me on at all. When I was about 8 or 9 I started humping the bed while thinking of some of these movie stars. I didn't understand what I was doing but it seemed to give me pleasure.

When I reached puberty and started to ejaculate my mother yelled at me about messing up the sheets so I moved my masturbation activities to the bathroom. As I began to notice pretty girls at school I started to think of them sometimes instead of the movie stars as my masturbation inspirations.

In high school(which I started when I was 12) I was teased constantly. I was still the shortest student in my class, even shorter than any of the girls. I still had an outgoing personality when in a group, but I became withdrawn around girls. As the others started dating I could not bring myself to ask a girl out as much as I wanted to. I was afraid that she might not only say no, but ridicule me as well. Then the others would pick up on it and tease me even more. And of course my taste only ran to the best-looking short girls, the ones most likely to say no to a short, dumpy-looking (not fat but overweight), four-eyed geek like me. So when I graduated at 16, I'd never had a date, had never even kissed a girl.

In college I joined a fraternity during the pledge period of my freshman year in hopes that the extra social activities would enable me to meet girls more easily. However the fraternity I joined turned out to be the "Animal House" of my college. I had a lot of fun at the beer bashes but we never had successful mixers with any of the sororities.

I was studying Chemical Engineering, a five-year cooperative education program, commuting from my parents house in suburban New Jersey, but at the end of my second year my father took a job in Alabama and I was forced out of school financially. I moved in with my older brother and his family in Virginia because he said I'd be able to get a job at the shipyard in Newport News.

I was hired at a pay rate higher than my brother's even though he was a four-year army veteran and had five years experience at the shipyard. Realizing what two years of college was worth, I became determined to return to school as soon as possible to earn a degree.

My brother was even more into sports than I was. We played basketball and bowled during the winter, then moved onto Softball for the summer. The local recreation department manager asked my brother if he would manage one of the girl's softball teams. Naturally, I helped him.

I was now nineteen, did not have a driver's license, and had still never dated. My sister made me her project!!

The next-door neighbors were about the same age as my brother and his wife. The wife had a younger sister who was going to spend the summer with them to establish residence so she could go to Warwick High School in the fall instead of Newport News High. She was fourteen, headed into her freshman year. Betty, my sister, convinced the girl to play softball on our team. She was terrible but this was just a ploy concocted by the two women to get us together. And it worked.

Maryann was about my height, had a very pretty face and a body that was well developed for a fourteen year old. She asked me to go to the movies with her and another couple. I was such a dolt that I didn't even know how to hold hands with a girl; I held it like we were shaking hands.

We kissed on our second date, no tongue of course. I was embarrassed because I got an erection. We were in the back seat of her friends car and I tried to position myself so that my body did not contact hers. Eventually I improved a little and we dated all summer, all double-dates because I still had no car and no license. We also kissed some more but we never french-kissed and I was always embarrassed when I got an erection.

She broke up with me on Labor Day. "I'm starting high school tomorrow" she said, "and I'll be meeting lots of new people and I want to be free to do things with them. I've enjoyed the summer but I don't want to continue dating you." I was heartbroken. I suggested we see each other but not go steady, but she wasn't having any of it.

My bedroom faced her sister's house so I often saw her coming home from dates; it was very painful. Then, about three weeks after she broke up with me, I bumped into the boy we had double-dated with. He told me the real reason she dropped me was that I was too immature. Imagine, at nineteen I was too immature for a fourteen year old. And, she was right!!!

But the ice had been broken. I got my driver's license and bought a car. I got up the nerve to ask a few girls out, but none of my dates developed into relationships. I still had very little confidence and none of the girls I dated fit my ideal. They were attractive but usually they were as tall as I was.

One in particular that I'll never forget was one I met in a bowling alley. She was the best-looking girl I ever dated, even to this day. I thought she was about my height but when I picked her up for our first date, even though she wore flats, she was about two inches taller than I was. Then she made the killer comment, "Oh, you're shorter than I thought you were." Being very conscious of my height, I felt so bad I just wanted to end the date as soon as possible. I took her to an out-of-the-way place for pizza, but of course we bumped into some guys I knew from work. The next day they gave me a hard time. I accidentally bumped into her a couple of years later, at which time she was working as a fashion model. We had a good laugh about our tragic date.

I returned to college in the fall of 1957 and met my wife-to-be on Friday of the first week. She and another girl were sitting with some of my fraternity brothers in the school cafeteria when I went to lunch. I was introduced to them and spent the whole afternoon talking with Joan, cutting an EE lab in the process. This was the first girl I'd ever met that I could talk with comfortably. When we both stood at the same time I saw that she was about my height. She was very attractive and had a good figure but she was not petite. So she didn't quite match that ideal I carried in my head either.

We spent a lot of time together over the next six weeks, mostly in a group, but I did not ask her for a true date until Homecoming Weekend. After that I had just one date with another girl, during my next work-study time in Virginia.

Joan and I got married over the Christmas vacation of our senior year(1959). Our wedding had been planned for spring break three months later but Joan got pregnant just two months after we started having intercourse so we advanced the timetable.

Our marriage was solid, if not spectacular. We saw eye-to-eye on almost everything and seldom argued. The only sore point was sex. After the first couple of years (and kids) Joan was happy with a frequency of a couple of times per month while I was always horny. I started masturbating on a daily basis like I did as a teenager.

I worked as an engineer during the sixties, but became disgruntled as I did not like the path my career was taking. I took a few basic business courses at night but it would take at least five years to get an MBA. With Joan's blessing I became a full-time student at Wharton ( part of the University of Pennsylvania).

Joan had been a stay-at-home mom (we now had three kids) but had to work while I went to school so that we could maintain a satisfactory life-style. She taught sixth grade, but since her degree was in Home Economics, not Education, she had to simultaneously take courses herself. She had a hectic schedule while I had the life of a student. I helped out a little, grading papers for her, but I am no help around the house, so she had to get the kids going in the morning (the oldest two were in third and first grades, the youngest spent the day at a neighbor's house), pick up all three when she got home, then fix dinner before going to her evening class.

She had her hair cut very short to save the time it took to manage long hair. I hated it but I had to accept this as a small price to pay for what she had to do.

I accepted a job in Atlanta with a major management consulting firm when I graduated. We had a nice house built in Dunwoody, a northern suburb, and started living our modest version of the dream life. Both of us had gained some weight while I was in school. I went up to 170 but quickly dropped back down to about 155, still about 15 pounds overweight. I don't know what Joan's weight was but she went from a perfect size 10(34-24-34) when we were in undergraduate school to a size 12 and even 14 in some items. I tried to get her to lose some weight and let her hair grow back out, but she did neither. Naturally our sex life, already not good, suffered even more. I masturbated more than ever.

Joan and I had not had sex for several months when I started the project in Pennsylvania. The more I got on her about her weight the more resentful she became. Everything else was still fine but our interpersonal relationship was a shambles. I believed we were headed for a divorce.

AN UNLIKELY SERIES OF EVENTS

Some people talk about coincidences while others say everything is fate. I've never decided which is correct but some things happened which individually didn't mean anything, but taken together changed my life.

The first one was on my next visit to the company in Pennsylvania in mid-December. I was working in the conference room, which was next to the Chief Executive Officer(CEO)s office on the short leg of the L-shaped office area. James Easterly, the head of customer service came by and stuck his head in the door. " I'm glad you're here Bob. All the outside salesmen are here for our semi-annual meeting and I'm having a cocktail party for them at my house this evening. I'd like you to come if you're free. I'm sure they would like hearing about the new system you're designing because it really should help them."

It was always an honor to be invited to an activity of the client company as it was a sign that you were accepted. So of course I went to James' cocktail party.

At one time during the evening I was in a small group that included James and three or four of the salesmen, when one of them said, "James, you old dog, how'd you ever get such a babe as that Lissa?" Another one chimed in "yeah, she's a real living doll!" There it is again, the perfect description of Melissa -- a real living doll. James answered, "Yes, she's very attractive but don't mess with her. She's one tough little lady. She's twenty-three and -" "Twenty-three?" That was me practically choking on my drink! "Here I was worried you were violating the child labor laws."

"Oh, no" he went on. "She's twenty-three and has a seven year old daughter. Her parents were very strict with her and wouldn't let her date or even go out in mixed groups, so of course she started sneaking around. The first boy she started seeing got her pregnant at the age of fifteen. She dropped out of school after her sophomore year. They got married, he went into the navy, and they were out in San Diego when things went bad. He abused her, verbally at first but then it got physical. Finally she got a divorce and came back home to her parents. She's been hurt badly so she's hard and bitter."

That was the end of the discussion of Melissa but it got me thinking, even though twenty-three is very young for a thirty-eight year old, with the life experiences she's had, she's really older and I'd like to get to know her.

I wouldn't have thought like that just a few months ago. In fifteen years of marriage I'd never ever thought of cheating on Joan. I had never kissed another woman, taken one to dinner, or even danced with one. Of course, when I thought rationally, I had to admit that a large part of my faithfulness was due to the fact that I didn't appeal to women, especially the ones that you see at the clubs and lounges.

Christmas was always a big deal at our house and 1974 was no different. Joan's parents and younger brother came several days before Christmas and stayed until several days after. I took vacation time the week between Christmas and New Year's Day as I always did so I could play with all the new stuff the kids got.

Finally, I returned to Pennsylvania the Monday after New Year's day. I took the early-bird flight to Wilkes-Barre/Scranton airport and picked up a rental car. We were Avis' biggest customer in Atlanta so we got treated well. Our standard reservation was for a compact if we did not have a group traveling together but if Avis saw they were going to run short on compacts they would give us an upgrade. On this particular day I got a sporty Oldsmobile. I don't recall if it was a top-of-the-line Cutlass or if it had a separate model name but it was the only car I ever saw that had swiveling bucket seats. At that time Oldsmobile advertised its step-down design which they insisted had advantages but also had the disadvantage of making it difficult for a woman to get in and out gracefully if she was wearing a dress. Of course the swivel seats overcame this disadvantage. Olds dropped this feature a couple of years later, probably for safety reasons. So, was the nice rental car a coincidence or fate?

Monday went by without incident but when I arrived at the office Tuesday morning about 10 minutes after the workday began the receptionist told me the conference room was being used so the CEO had arranged for me to stay in the customer service department which had several empty desks. She told me Mr. Easterly was expecting me. Coincidence or fate?


My Fantasy Girl Ch. 01



I entered the first of the two doors to the customer service department and looked around. It looked like a classroom, with five rows of six desks each neatly lined up, facing the front of the room (cubicles were not common in 1975 so a large open room for functions like accounting, customer service and order processing was normal). There was even a row of hooks along the side wall for everyone's overcoats. The desks right in front of me were all occupied but there were several empty desks on the far side of the room, including the entire first row. At the front, between the two doors, were two offices. Each office had a door to the right and a large 4' by 8' plate glass window just above desk height. James came out of his office and led me to the first desk of the empty row.

I could not help but think back to grade school; here I was again in the first desk of the first row! James explained that the customer service representatives (CSRs) spent all their time on the phone so the room was necessarily noisy and this was as far away as he could put me. I assured him I had worked in lots noisier environments (true) so it wouldn't be a problem.

Then he turned to the second office. "Lissa, would you please come out here a minute." And there she was, walking toward us, wearing the same skirt I had seen her in back in November. It was everything I could do to keep my eyes up, rather than looking at her legs. "Lissa, this is Bob. He's going to use this desk when he's here." "Hello, Melissa," I interjected, but she didn't smile, didn't even look at me. James went on, telling her to get me some supplies. She went out the door and I settled in at the desk while James returned to his office. Melissa returned with some supplies a couple of minutes later and put them on my desk without a word, even after I thanked her.

I took in my surroundings. It was just like a classroom, except we all had steelcase desks instead of the old student's desks and there was no big round clock at the front of the room. The noise was a continuous din as every CSR was constantly on the phone, either with salesmen or customers. It was an even mix of men and women, most of whom were my age or older. They all looked at me as I first came in, but now most of them went back to their phones and the papers on their desks. One, however, a woman about 35-40 kept looking over at me. I quickly sensed that she was a nosy one and probably a rumor-monger. Every office has one!

Right in front of me was the plate glass window of Melissa's office. If she sat up at her desk we would be staring at each other. But she didn't sit up. Her head was down, always!

She was James' secretary but she had very little typing to do. Her real job was as a file clerk. One of the CSRs would call her on the phone to request some information. She would go to one of the four filing cabinets in her office to get it, then walk it out to the CSR's desk Periodically, she would empty their out-baskets and return the data sheets to the filing cabinets. Three of the filing cabinets were at the back of her office, behind her desk, but the fourth was at the front to the right of the door. It was turned at a right angle so, when she stood at that cabinet she was in the doorway and I had a perfect view of her in profile. And this was the filing cabinet that was used almost all the time.

I did not get much work done that morning! Every time she got a request I could not help myself, I followed her every move, surreptitiously of course.

She walked much faster than she did the day I saw her sauntering along the hallway with her friend, and she took long strides for such a short girl, with an exaggerated heel-toe step. The first time I saw her walk, I couldn't help but think of my army days. It would take a lot of effort to teach her to march without bobbing up and down. As her head rose and then fell two things happened. Her hair rose and fell without separating at all. And the hem of her skirt rose and fell as well. I found it hard to believe that, from my sitting position, I could not see the cheeks of her ass when the skirt bobbed up, but I couldn't.

All morning, as she left and then returned to her office, she never once looked in my direction. At her desk she always sat with her head down. Oh, well, I thought, this is nothing new. Attractive girls never pay any attention to me.

And then 12 o'clock came. It was as if the CSRs were responding to one of those dog whistles that humans can't hear. Everyone stopped talking at the same time, put down their phones, and got up to go to lunch. The timing of it all was one of the most startling things I'd ever seen.

Just as I always came in a few minutes late in the morning I always waited to go to lunch and to leave at the end of the day. The idea was to not interfere with the regular employees who often had to follow a clock. As I went back to work I noticed that Melissa had not left when the others did. Then at about ten after the hour she got up and left through the second door , without a coat, and, of course, without a word or glance to me. Coincidence or fate?

Actually, at the time, I wasn't thinking about coincidence or fate at all. As I ate lunch I thought of how sad Melissa was. She never smiled, didn't talk except to answer the CSRs, sat with her head buried; yes, she was very sad. She certainly wasn't interested in me either, although that could simply be that I was much older than she was.

The afternoon was a repeat of the morning. The noise of all the concurrent conversations melted into a continuous din. And Melissa made frequent trips to a CSR and back to her office. I still couldn't believe that her bouncing hem never gave me a view of her butt! She must have set that hem with a micrometer to be a maximum tease but not reveal too much.

Five o'clock was a repeat of noon! All the conversations ended immediately and all the CSRs filed out quickly. Melissa did not rush out like the others, but she did not stay long either. After a minute or two she left through the first door, picking up her coat on the way out.

That evening as I ate dinner I did some serious thinking. No doubt, I was infatuated with Melissa but did I really want to cheat on my wife. In my mind, even just asking her to dinner would be cheating, because I knew I would want more eventually. On the other hand, things were so bad between Joan and me on a couple of major issues that we appeared to be headed for a divorce whether or not there was a third person involved. Both Joan's family and mine had a history of long marriages. Both sets of parents were approaching their fiftieth anniversaries; my brother was near his thirtieth; my sister was divorced, but only years after her husband became lost in gambling and abandoned his family. So I did not take lightly the possibility of stepping out on Joan.

I didn't see things improving at home and, as they say, you've only got one life to live, so I finally decided I wanted to ask Melissa out, but now I had another problem. Even at thirty-eight I was very unsure of myself with regard to women. I had to get up the courage to ask her, and what if she said no! After all, she didn't show the slightest interest in me today. It would be horrible if she said no and then I had to go on facing her each day.

I decided that if tomorrow was like today with all the CSRs charging out at noon but Melissa staying rooted at her desk I was going to go talk to her and see where it led. With my mind made up, I went back to my motel room and masturbated, the second time today I had done so while thinking about the living doll in that tiny skirt!

When I arrived at the office Wednesday morning the CSRs were going full speed ahead; i.e. - the noise level was as high as ever. A few minutes after I got settled in Melissa made her first exit from her office and I was able to confirm what I had already surmised: her ass was as nice as her legs!!

She was wearing a pair of chocolate-brown slacks which were woven, probably a gabardine, but they might just as well have been knit because they fit like they were painted on. From the back of her waist a smooth concave curve led to her very firm cheeks. Her belly was totally flat as if she had a board under her slacks from her crotch to her belly-button, which I soon deduced was an innie. Her walking style was the same bouncing steps as on the previous day. Her hair still flew up and down with each step but her butt cheeks did not bounce at all. She definitely had a teenager's body. She completed her outfit with a white blouse and a beige vest with flower appliques.

I became more and more tense as the morning wore on, checking my watch every few minutes, wondering why time was moving so slowly, and not sure if I should approach Melissa or not. Finally the moment of truth arrived! It was noon and all the CSRs dropped their phones like they were on fire and headed for the door. Melissa was still at her desk. When the room was empty I took a deep breath and told myself to go for it.

Melissa's head was down, like always, and she didn't look up when I went into her office and stood by her desk. "wow, I can't believe this place. I've been to a lot of different companies but I've never seen a place where everyone's constantly on the phone and then they all hang up immediately when 12 o'clock comes."

Still not looking up,"Yeah, I know. It takes some getting used to."

"I noticed yesterday and again today that you didn't leave when the others did. Don't you eat lunch?"

"Ha!" Not really a laugh, but she did look up -- a little. "Yes. I bring my lunch, and eat with my friend, Melanie." That's probably the girl I saw her with back in November. "She works in the production office and they only get a half hour for lunch from 12:15 to 12:45 so I stay here until it's time to go join her."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you do eat lunch. You're slim enough now. I wouldn't want to see you waste away to nothing. Tell me, do you also eat dinner?"

"Ha!, of course!"

"Good! I really do love my job. I get to travel a lot and visit many different companies but one of the bad things about it is I usually wind up eating dinner alone. If you're free this evening I'd really like you to have dinner with me." There, I got out the words and I didn't stumble on any of them. Now I just had to wait for her answer.

She's not saying anything. Oh God, she's taking so long she's probably thinking of a nice way to say no.

I never should have done this. I'm so much older than her. She probably thinks I'm ridiculous.

"Okay. Sure, I'll have dinner with you."

Oh, wow! She said yes. Fantastic! "Great. Let me have your address and how to get there, and your phone number in case I get lost."



My Fantasy Girl Ch. 02



PREPARING FOR THE DATE

I was really excited that Melissa had agreed to go to dinner with me but now I had a few things to think about before I picked her up. 



For one, where would I take her. Dinner would take some time but how about afterward. The easiest decision here would be to go somewhere that has music. But I was a really bad dancer and I doubted there would be a place within a reasonable distance where you simply listen to the music. And if we wound up with hours of conversation I was concerned because I wasn't a joke teller or even an interesting conversationalist, and I wasn't sure we'd have anything in common to talk about what with our age difference. 

Perhaps more importantly, I had to be able to answer two questions that were almost bound to be raised, marriage and age. The marriage question was actually the easier of the two. I could just be honest. I had never asked a young lady out in all my years of marriage but I was now sure Joan and I were headed for divorce. Melissa might not believe me but it was true. This issue might not come up but after five years in the consulting field I was very aware of the power of the informal communications systems at our client locations. It seemed that almost before we started a project the office people knew all about us, not just professionally but personally as well. This could have even been the reason Melissa hesitated as long as she did before saying yes when I asked her out.

The age question would be more difficult. If it came up early in the evening it would indicate that it was a real concern for Melissa. No doubt the spread from twenty-three to thirty-eight was a huge gap! I did look young for my age so I could shave a few years off in my answer, but that meant telling her a lie, something I was loath to do. I figured out at a young age that I was not a good liar. Playing nickel-dime-quarter poker in high school, a game you could hardly bluff in, the others seemed to know when I had a good hand and when I didn't. Apparently, my face was a dead give-away. The solution for me over the years was to tell the truth or say nothing, if that was an option. And, of course, I quit playing poker at a young age.

Later in the day while meeting with Tom Chambers, the programmer, I asked him if there was anyplace nearby that had live music. "oh," he said. "You've got to go to the new Holiday Inn! It's a bit of a drive but it's the only place that has live music during the week and it has really good food too if you want to eat dinner there. It's a new concept Holiday Inn has started and we've got one of the first ones. They call it the Holidome." Of course, I didn't mentioned to him that I was taking Melissa.

One of the things I did not think about was the fact that I would be cheating on my marriage to Joan. In my mind just taking a woman to dinner on a personal level (as opposed to a professional level, which I had done) was a form of cheating. But surprisingly, I felt no guilt, had no pangs of conscience. I really did consider my marriage over!

THE START OF THE DATE

I arrived at Melissa's house right at 7PM. Another of the things they stressed in "consulting 101" was that arriving early was almost as bad as being late so I followed this practice in my personal life as well as my professional life.

Her parent's house was a small very thin building. It reminded me of my grandparents' houses in South Philadelphia, except it was free-standing whereas theirs were row houses. It was just one room wide, about 12-15 feet, and stretched to the rear. I assumed that it had a living room in front, then a dining room and finally a kitchen in the back, just like my grandparents had. It was a two-story building so the bedrooms would be on the second floor. There was an open porch in the front and the porch light was on. I went up onto the porch but before I rang the bell the door opened and Melissa came out. She must have been looking out the window, then put her coat on and buttoned it up as soon as she saw me. She doesn't want her parents to see me.

She was wearing a long overcoat (it WAS January in central Pennsylvania!) which had three large buttons, one at the neck, one at the breasts and one at the waist. The coat was open from the waist down. Melissa held the two sides of the ankle length coat closed with one hand. When we got to the car, I opened the door for her and swiveled the seat so she could sit down directly from the curb. After she sat I told her to raise her feet, then swiveled the seat back to its regular position. All this time she kept the coat closed with her hand. I pulled out the seat belt and gave it to her to fasten, then I went around to the driver's side of the car. As I got in I could see that she was sitting very stiffly, still clutching the flaps of her coat. I noticed she was wearing the same shoes she wore to work, the ones with the three inch full heels.

"Wow, this is a really nice car! What kind is it?"

"It's an Oldsmobile. Of course, it's not mine. It's a rental car and it is nicer than what I usually get."

"Well, it sure is fancy and these seats are so plush, and I've never heard of a car where the seats swivel." The seats were covered in velour, a much warmer fabric than leather or plastic.

By now I had moved the shifter on the center console to drive and we were on our way.

"Where are we going for dinner?" 

"I talked with Tom this afternoon and he said the Holiday Inn is very good. Have you been there?"

"I went once to go dancing but I've never eaten there."

"Well, good. Since you've been there you can help me if I make a wrong turn. Incidentally, I notice everyone at work calls you Lissa, but I think Melissa is a beautiful name, so I hope you don't mind if that's what I call you."

"Not at all. There are plenty of people who call me by each of the names. Tell me Bob, how old are you?" 

That didn't take long. Two minutes to admire the car and then BANG!I've GOT to lie!

"I'm thirty-three." I shaved off five years because that would make time adjustments easier, like when I graduated from high school or college.

"Oh, I thought you were younger, about twenty-eight."

Oh, no. I could have taken off ten years and she would have accepted it.

"Well, I'm thirty-three and you're twenty-three. I don't think ten years is all that much of a difference."

"Actually, it's more like nine years. I'll be twenty-four next month."

"Oh, when is your birthday?"

"The twenty-fourth of February."

"Ah, so you'll be twenty-four on the twenty-fourth."

From that point on we made small talk for the rest of the trip. I asked her about her job, though I already knew what she did. I asked about her daughter, but I avoided anything to do with her marriage or divorce. During the entire trip which took about 40 minutes she sat very straight and held her coat closed even though the car temperature was very comfortable.

The front of the Holiday Inn was certainly a big step up from the typical Holiday Inn found in small towns at that time. There were plenty of available parking places near the entrance so I skipped the covered circular drive at the entrance. I opened the door and swung Melissa's seat out for her. She stepped out, still holding her coat shut.

As we passed through the check-in area one of the clerks behind the counter told us there was no one assigned to the coat check room but our coats would be safe if we wished to hang them up there. I had a London Fog raincoat with a zip-out lining which I wore both winter and summer. I hung up my coat but Melissa said she wanted to keep her coat with her. By now I was dying to see what she was wearing under that coat!

We passed through a doorway into a huge open area. The hostess greeted us, "Two for dinner?" I answered, "Yes" and she led us to a table. It was a white tablecloth restaurant, very formal looking. About half the tables were occupied, probably not bad for a Wednesday. All the men and women at the tables were dressed nicely in suits and appropriate dresses. 

The entire space was open. Right in front of us were dining tables, off to the right I could see a small dance floor with a bandstand, now empty, and some tiered seating with small cocktail tables; to the left was a large open area and some doors leading to the kitchen and other service areas. Beyond the dining area were some plants and trees and beyond those was the swimming pool. Two floors of rooms surrounded the swimming pool on the other three sides. And the whole thing was indoors, a plastic roof covering the entire structure. It was nothing like the Hyatt Regency in Atlanta of course. That hotel had a 23 story high atrium with greenery hanging from the balconies running around each floor, but it was very impressive, especially for a less populated region.

DINNER 

The hostess led us to our table and asked if we wanted a cocktail before dinner. "Yes, please." I answered. Melissa said, "I'll have a seven and seven." That's what I ordered when I first started drinking as a teenager. Either she doesn't drink much or perhaps hers is a beer drinking crowd. 

"I'll have a gin and tonic." As the hostess gave me an odd look I said, "Yes, I know! It's a summer drink but I've become addicted to it and I drink it all year round, even in the dead of winter." She smiled, then headed for the kitchen area.

The moment of truth had arrived. The hostess had pulled out one of the chairs for Melissa and I went around to help her off with her coat. She was wearing a very short dress with a full skirt, made from a soft material in pastel colors. The primary color was a very light gray with a pattern that included pink, light blue, lavender and light yellow shades. Because the material was soft the hem of the full skirt fell straight down after flaring out for her hips giving the dress the appearance of being a little longer than her black skirt, but I think it was probably the same length and simply sat differently. 

The top covered her completely with a plain neckline and short puffy sleeves. The front consisted of four wide vertical pleats. There was a belt of the same material at the waist, as wide as a cummerbund, with a large bow in the back. All in all it was a very attractive dress, though rather puritanical. If Melissa looked like a junior high schooler going to class in her black skirt, she now looked like that same student going to church.

"I noticed the hostess took your drink order with no questions. Don't you get carded?"

"No, never." Am I the only one who thinks she looks like a teenager. When we first came in and everyone looked up as people in a restaurant always seem to do, I felt uncomfortable, like everyone was excoriating me as the old lecher with the young girl.

Melissa asked me to drape her coat over her chair, then she sat down. The bow was so large and it drooped down so she was sitting on it when she sat. As I sat across from her I made a comment about how attractive the place was. Then our waitress came with our drinks. "Cheers," I said and took a swallow of my drink. "I'm really glad you wore a dress tonight. Don't get me wrong. You looked very good in the slacks you wore to work today but a dress is so much nicer on a date. I guess because it's more feminine, and you really do look nice."This is a date and I've just acknowledged it as such. I hadn't done that when I asked her to dinner.

"Thank you."

We opened our menus. I scanned mine quickly. It looked pretty much the same as the menus I'd seen at other Holiday Inns, a couple of steaks at the top, then proceeding down through ham, pork chops, fried chicken, and spaghetti. I decided a steak was the best bet, closed the menu and picked up the wine list.

I soon laid it down too, at which time our waitress came over.

"Are you ready to order?" I could see Melissa was still looking at the menu so I told the waitress to give us a few more minutes.

We spent the next several minutes sipping our drinks while Melissa still had her head buried in the menu. The waitress started over again but I motioned her away by shaking my head from side to side.

Gosh, she could have that menu memorized by now. What's taking her so long? Wait, in the few dates I had before I got married I never took a girl to such a nice restaurant except Joan, and by the time I took her to a good restaurant she knew me well enough to know she could order whatever she pleased. I wonder if Melissa is uncomfortable because she wants something expensive but doesn't want to seem like she's extravagant. And, of course, the woman always has to order before the man so she can't just follow my lead. I've got to put her at ease.

"Do you like steak?"

"Oh, yes." I could see the relief on her face.

"Good! Why don't we both get filet mignon. That way we can share a bottle of wine."

I signaled to the waitress that we were ready. When she came to our table she stood beside and slightly behind Melissa, facing me. "We've both decided to have the filet mignon." I said.

"Very good. How would you like yours cooked miss?"

Not looking up from the menu, Melissa answered, "Well done."

The waitress grimaced and looked at me in exasperation. I mouthed the word, medium. The waitress nodded to me, then asked Melissa if she wanted a baked potato or french fries. Melissa chose a baked potato with sour cream. Well, thank goodness for that. I'm a purist; you always get a baked potato with any good steak, except a T-bone. For some reason french fries do seem to go better with a T-bone.

We finished ordering and I selected a medium priced cabernet sauvignon, telling the waitress to please bring the wine when she served the salads.

In just a couple of minutes we were digging into our salads and one of those small heated loaves of bread many restaurants serve. It was obvious that Melissa had a good appetite. Since we now had the wine to drink I deferred when the waitress asked if we wanted another cocktail.

The steaks and potatoes arrived exactly as we finished our salads. Perfect timing and service!

My steak was delicious and Melissa said hers was too. I wondered if we were just lucky or if Holiday Inn had upgraded their food for their new motels. Either way, the meal matched favorably to steaks I'd had in some really expensive restaurants.

We didn't talk much at the beginning of our meal. We were both enjoying the food. As I refilled our wine glasses I noticed that Melissa was only a little behind me. She was obviously enjoying the wine too. 

I now had the opportunity to look at her more closely. She did not appear to be wearing any makeup; certainly no lipstick, and no blush on her cheeks, no eye makeup either though it was hard to tell since she wore glasses. And I hadn't detected any odor of perfume when we were in the car, only the fresh smell of someone who has recently taken a bath or a shower. 

There could be two explanations for the lack of makeup. One would be that Melissa knew I was married and didn't want to do anything which could be an embarrassment to me after I went home. The more likely reason, however, was that she simply did not use any makeup or perfume. Her boss had commented during his cocktail party about how strict her parents were so it was my guess that she had never worn makeup before she got involved with the boy who got her pregnant. As for the intervening years, perhaps she never saw a reason to start using makeup. At twenty-three she was attractive enough she really didn't need any help.

Finally, at one point Melissa looked up and our eyes met. "You're staring." she said.

"I'm sorry. I just think you're very attractive. But of course you know that! I mean attractive people do know that they're attractive, don't they?"

I don't know if my directness shocked her or not but she was obviously thinking of what to say before she answered. "Overall, I am pleased with the way I look. I'm especially glad that I'm so petite. There are just two things I wish I could change."

"Oh, what are they?"

"For one, I wish I didn't have to wear glasses, but I can't afford contact lenses."

"But your glasses look so good on you. Their color and style are just right." What am I saying? I've been wearing contacts for nearly twenty years. I always hated wearing glasses. Now I'm criticizing someone else for wanting contacts! "On the other hand, I can understand your desire to not have to wear glasses. I've been wearing contact lenses since I was nineteen and they really are more convenient than glasses for me." 

Editorial note: In 1975 only hard lenses were generally available. They were much easier to detect than soft lenses.

"You wear contact lenses? Wow, you sure do wear them well. I can usually tell when someone is wearing contact lenses but I sure couldn't tell you wear them." Melissa leaned forward and looked intently into my eyes. This is the first time she's really looked at me.

"I still can't see them. Turn your head so I can get a profile view. Oh, now I can see them . I've never known anyone who wore them as well as you do."

We settled back into our seats. "So what's your other imperfection?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed, I'm completely flat-chested."

"I have noticed that every outfit I've seen you in seems to have what I call a busy top. You know, pleats like your dress tonight, which look very nice incidentally. They make your dress look elegant. At work I've seen you wearing vests and cardigans with flower appliques and such, so I figured you were probably pretty small breasted. But that's okay by me. I'm a leg and butt man myself and you are outstanding in both of those places."

"Thanks. Those are definitely my best features."

We took a few more bites before I started talking again. "Well, tell me, since you've been back, have you done much dating?"

"No. When I first came home, I quickly got into an affair with one guy. It was strictly a sex thing. You know, after the things my husband said and did I had to prove to myself that I was desirable. I was sorry for it quickly and broke it off. Now I'm looking for a true relationship."

Was that an innocent though very open comment or is she now looking for me to come clean about my marriage.

"So, does that mean you've only been with two men in your life?"

"Yes."

"Well, actually, that's more sexual experience than I've had. I've only been with one woman, my wife." I studied her face closely as I said this but I did not see any expression to indicate she was surprised to hear I was married. "I'm still married but things are going very badly right now. As attractive as I think you are, I wouldn't have asked you out if it were not for my situation at home. I hope you believe me. You are the first woman I've ever asked out since I got married."

Melissa looked downward with a sad look on her face."Well, I do know something about how bad things can be at home."

With that, we went back to concentrating on our meals. By now the band, a four person rock group, had started their first set of the evening. By the time they got into their third song I concluded they were quite good for such a venue. I said as much to Melissa.

"They actually work full time for Holiday Inn." she said. "There are five or six groups who rotate every two weeks or so between the Holiday Inns in this area. This group is probably the best." How does she know so much about how the entertainment is set up? Surely she's been here a lot more than one time. Of course I'll bet that between sets some of the band members hit on her so that's how she would know their playing schedule. Her sexual escapade may even have been with one of the band members. Well, that's not really my business.

We finished our meals and were working on the last of the wine. Our waitress came over to clear our plates and ask if we wanted coffee or dessert. Melissa said she wanted neither so I asked for the check. "We are going to go over to listen to the music and would like a couple of drinks. Do you want to add them to our bill or should we start a new charge?"




My Fantasy Girl Ch. 02



"We have a separate person assigned to the lounge so you will have to start a new tab, but I can give her your order and have her take it to you over there."

I scanned the check our waitress brought, then laid my gold American Express card on it. The proliferation of gold, platinum, titanium and what-have-you credit cards had not yet started in 1975 so a gold American Express card always got the attention of workers in motels and restaurants. It "said" the bearer was an experienced user of such services, and usually resulted in really good service. Of course this doesn't apply on the first visit to a restaurant because the server doesn't see your card until the end of the meal. But we had received really good service and I tipped her accordingly.

THE COCKTAIL LOUNGE 

By the time Melissa and I had finished our dinners and made our way to the lounge area the four man combo was well into its second set. The bandstand was behind the small dance floor. The seating was tiered which permitted all the customers to see the dance floor and the band at all times. I had not seen such a layout before at a motel lounge but it really made sense. There was no bar at the lounge. We sat at a table on the third tier and the cocktail waitress was right behind us with our drinks. I looked closely at Melissa and then at the band members but if she had had any kind of a relationship with any of them it certainly was not apparent.

The lounge was not very crowded, perhaps six of the tables were occupied. There were a couple of tables with some ladies and the rest were occupied by men, probably business travelers like me. There were only six people on the dance floor and four of them were girls dancing with each other to the rock tunes being played. We sat and listened while we drank our drinks. Before long I noticed Melissa had crossed her legs when she sat and was now swinging her leg in time to the music. The set ended and some recorded background music was piped through the sound system. We finished our drinks and I ordered another round which arrived just before the live music began again.

Melissa was definitely the best looking girl there, and it was obvious to me that she would really like to dance. By the time the group was into the second song of their set, I began to think that if I didn't ask her to dance one of the other guys there would. I had seen it before! A lot of the lounge lizards were not shy about asking a woman to dance, even if it was obvious she was with someone. I hadn't had enough to drink to feel loose enough to want to dance but I felt like I had to do it.

"Melissa, I am a terrible dancer, but if you don't mind being embarrassed by how poor your partner dances I would like to dance with you." She got up immediately and almost smiled. When we got to the dance floor we were one of just three pairs so there was no hiding. I soon displayed my exceptionally poor technique, at times out of step with the music, at other times changing the speed of my foot movements, and feeling very uncomfortable. 

But Melissa was amazing. I was sure she could do a lot of fancy steps but she didn't. Every time I changed beats or went out of step she moved right with me, making it look natural and making us look like we were truly partners, rather than like two individuals doing their own things the way it often looked with dancing to rock music. Midway through the second tune I shucked my coat and tie. I still felt a bit uncomfortable and I knew my dancing was really poor but I was beginning to enjoy myself. At one point she leaned in toward me and told me I was doing fine and she had danced with lots worse dancers than I was. I'm sure that was meant to make me feel better, but it didn't.

After about four fast songs the band switched to a slow song. As I put my arms out for her, I told Melissa "I'm not very good at slow dancing either but at least I get to hold you." I put my right hand around her waist and extended my left arm, taking hold of her right hand. After just a few steps I bent my left elbow, raising our hands to shoulder height and then I soon moved her hand to my shoulder and put my left hand around her slim body midway up her back. We danced for a while in this position, then she hooked her hands together behind my neck and moved in close to me. I soon had an erection!

The band played slow music for the remainder of the set and Melissa and I stayed on the floor the entire time. I had never in my whole life felt so comfortable dancing with someone, not even with Joan, who even though she had that dancing gene that all females seem to have, was not a good enough dancer to make me look good. Melissa was! One of the things I noticed was that, because she was significantly shorter than I was, I could maneuver us so as to avoid bumping into other dancers, something I couldn't do with Joan. And of course, all this time I was caressing her, enjoying the feel of her body against me. I did not try any sexual stuff like dropping my hand to her ass, though I might have been tempted if it wasn't for that humongous bow; that and the fact that the lights were real bright. For her part, she rested her head on my shoulder most of the time, another thing that Joan, being the same height as me, couldn't comfortably do.

When the set ended we returned to our seats and finished our drinks. I asked Melissa if she would like another but she said no, she was ready to go. I took care of the drink tab and we left just as the band was starting their last set of the night.

THE END OF THE DATE

Out in the lobby I retrieved my coat and helped Melissa put hers on. She left the three buttons undone as we left the building, and I had my coat draped over my arm. I felt like Melissa had had a good time even though she never actually smiled. She came close a couple of times but no real smile. Perhaps she doesn't smile outwardly. After all, I don't have a wide smile either, just a slight curling up of the lips. Perhaps she's just cautious, and a little apprehensive about what comes next. She might be concerned that I'm going to head back to my motel rather than taking her home. That thought had never crossed my mind but I did want to kiss her! But I still felt unsure of myself, very insecure.

As I opened the passenger side door I tossed my coat on the back seat, then swiveled the seat out . 

Melissa sat down and I swiveled the seat back in. I took the seat belt and reached across her body, fastening it myself rather than giving it to her to fasten. This put my face just a couple of inches from hers. I wanted so badly to close that small gap but I couldn't bring myself to do it. At thirty-eight I had less confidence than a typical fifteen year old.

As I got into the car I glanced over at Melissa. What a difference from the way she sat on the earlier trip! Her coat was completely open, she was sitting slightly angled toward the driver's side with her legs together and her knees against the center console, and her hands were clasped together in her lap which brought the hem of her dress all the way up her thighs. Her eyes were partially closed into thin slits, a look that was either bedroom eyes or indicated she had too much to drink. 

The parking lot had emptied out enough that I could pull straight out. With my foot on the brake I moved the shifter to drive, then let my hand continue until it was on her left thigh. She neither moved nor opened her eyes wider. I caressed her thigh, moving up about 3 or 4 inches, then back down, then up again. "You sure do have nice legs." "Ummm, thank you." 

Oh, how I wanted to kiss her and, from the expression on her face and the relaxed posture of her body, I was virtually sure she would welcome my kiss warmly. And yet I could not bring myself to do it. Finally, I lifted my foot from the brake and the car started forward, my hand still caressing Melissa's leg.

We spoke very little on the trip to her house. I turned on the car radio to some soft music at a low volume. I moved my hand off Melissa's thigh whenever a required driving maneuver made that prudent but I moved it back when we were just going straight down the road. There was very little traffic so I kept my hand on her thigh for most of the trip.

I racked my brain trying to think of what to say as a lead into a goodnight kiss. As I pulled up and parked in front of her house I still didn't know what I was going to say or do.

I went around the car, opened her door, and rotated her seat for the last time. Melissa got out and immediately started up the steps to her porch. When she got near the door she turned and faced me. "Thank you so much, Bob. This is the best date I've ever had!"

Wow! What a nice thing to say even if it isn't actually true. In any case it is certainly an invitation for a good goodnight kiss. I don't have to say anything; just move in and kiss her!

I did – and what a kiss! Of course, with my limited dating history I hadn't kissed very many girls. There was Maryann, the fourteen year old who thought I was too immature, there were a couple where I got a goodnight kiss, all of which were very forgettable, and there was Joan, the only one with whom I had shared any hot kisses.

I puckered up as I always did but I'm not sure Melissa puckered up at all. Those large lips of hers were open slightly and when I made contact they enveloped me. They were so soft it was like kissing a pillow, only a pillow that was constantly moving, massaging my lips softly. I extended my tongue toward her mouth and met hers at the juncture of our lips. I had french-kissed Joan of course, but Joan did not give open mouth kisses until she was already somewhat excited sexually so I was not accustomed to such a warm reception on a first kiss. Our tongues played together, in her mouth, in my mouth, and at the midpoint. The kiss continued on and Melissa made no move to end it. At some point I repositioned my arms, which had been around her waist on the outside of her unbuttoned coat to inside the coat so I could pull her closer. She had her arms around my neck with one hand on the back of my head caressing my hair. 

The kiss continued. Eventually I began to feel self-conscious. I wasn't concerned that her parents were looking out the window. Rather, with the porch light on, I was aware that one of the neighbors would see us if they happened to look out their window and, even though Melissa was a grown woman, it just wouldn't look good. But the kiss was so enjoyable I wanted it to continue. And still Melissa made no sign that she wanted to end it.

Finally, I broke the kiss. Melissa immediately reached her hand behind her to turn the doorknob, and backed up through the door while softly telling me good night. I did not have a timer but I'm sure that kiss lasted over five minutes. Even today I remember it as the best kiss I ever had!

As I drove back to the motel my mind was in a whirl. I thought about different parts of our date. At the start she was as uptight as I was, maybe more. I was probably like no one she had been with before. I was definitely older, probably more educated and sophisticated too. I think my suggesting we both get steak is what started to make her more comfortable. After that I should have picked up on things she said and her mannerisms which I should have known meant she was enjoying herself. Then there was that kiss. I spent a lot of time remembering that kiss. I couldn't wait to kiss her again – and more. I thought to myself, I'm going to get to fuck this girl!

I do not use foul language in my speech, but I sometimes think in four-letter words. 

Needless to say, I masturbated before going to sleep.

THE DAY AFTER

I checked out of my motel the next morning and went to the office, arriving about ten minutes after the workday began, the same as always. When I got to my desk I took off my suit jacket and turned toward Melissa as I draped it over the back of my chair. When our eyes met, she smiled – no, that's not correct- she put on the biggest open-mouth all-teeth-showing grin you can imagine. It was a cross between that fantastic smile by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and Dennis Quaid's shit-eating grin in just about every movie he ever made. 

I couldn't believe it. I hadn't detected any smile during our date, but now she was absolutely beside herself with joy. I smiled back at her, then glanced at Miss Nosy. I was not sure if she could see Melissa's face from her desk but she was sure looking in our direction and I felt she already knew something was up between Melissa and me. 

The first time Melissa came out of her office I saw she was wearing a dress, not the same one she wore on our date but one that was very similar. It was made of a soft material with pastel shades, a full skirt about the same length, and a top that covered her right up to the neck. It had a belt of the same material at the waist but it wasn't nearly as wide as the one on the dress she wore on our date, and it had a small bow in the front. There were two horizontal rows of ruffles across the bodice and a different sleeve treatment, but it still looked like a going-to-church look for a teenager.

As she walked around the room doing her job she smiled at everyone. She even talked with the CSRs when she stopped at their desks. What a change this was from her demeanor and behavior of the past two days. Everyone noticed it and it soon became apparent that they appreciated the new Melissa. They all smiled and joked with her.

I had mixed feelings. On the one hand I was proud that I was responsible for the monumental change in her, but on the other hand I was concerned about the employees becoming aware that I was seeing Melissa outside the office. My company had a strict rule prohibiting us from dating client employees(one that a lot of the consultants ignored), and of course my being married made it even worse.

But Melissa's smile was captivating. She was now sitting upright at her desk, not bent over like before, and whenever our eyes met she broke out into that open mouth smile. I really had to see her again as soon as possible.

Normally on Thursday I would call my secretary and ask her to make my reservations for the following week. Then on Friday, one of the office personnel would go pick up our tickets from Eastern and Delta Air Lines, both of which had offices in the same building as us. The tickets would be on our desks by Friday afternoon. But this time I decided to do it myself. Referring to my pocket airline schedule I found a flight from Atlanta to Williamsport, Pa on Monday afternoon. By going to Williamsport and then driving south instead of to Wilkes-Barre/Scranton I could be at Melissa's house before 8pm.

I called her and told her my plan, and said I would be hungry and asked if she would take me to a local pizzeria, telling her that you couldn't get good pizza in Atlanta. This was true, although there was one place near our office run by a transplant from New York City that did pretty well. But even he admitted he couldn't quite match the New York pizza. She said she would. I made my flight reservations, then called Avis to reserve a car at Williamsport. I told them I did not need a larger car than usual but I needed one with bench seats as I would have six people in it for a short period of time. I know; this was devious but I wanted to make sure I could get close to Melissa in the car because I just couldn't wait to kiss her again.

I spoke briefly with Melissa after the mob left at noon to confirm I would see her Monday evening and I would also be here until Thursday again. As I always did on "getaway day" I worked through lunch, then left about 2:30 for my flight back to Atlanta.



My Fantasy Girl Ch. 03



AUTHOR'S LAMENT

I have been disappointed at the response, or should I say the lack thereof, to the first two chapters of my story. I am sure there are thousands of men and probably a number of women who have had an experience similar to mine. If you ever longed for someone but didn't pursue it because you were not attractive enough, or not personable enough, or not charming enough, or most likely, just plain not confident enough, you know what I went through -- in spades!

Please send me your comments, complimentary or derogatory. I'll be happy to answer if you desire a response. I can't change the story itself as it is 100% true. On the other hand I can try to change the way I tell it. My writing background is in business, reports and memos, which upper management always wants to be brief and direct. In this chapter I've tried to be more descriptive in telling the facts. The story is continuous so you need to read Chapters 1 and 2 for Chapter 3 to make sense.

THE BUILDUP

I spent a lot of time thinking about my date with Melissa, on the trip home and throughout the days that followed, until my return to Pennsylvania on Monday. That's probably why I can remember so many details of the date even now, more than thirty-five years later. I often thought about the change in her body language, so stiff at the start of the evening to so relaxed at the end. I thought about how open she was in her comments and the fact that it caused me to be equally open with her (except for the lie about my age). I thought about dancing with her, how I enjoyed so much an activity that I normally found to be painful. And of course I thought most often about her comment that it was the best date she ever had, and the kiss that followed. I REALLY thought about that kiss a lot!

Finally, it was Monday afternoon and I left for my flight to Williamsport, home of the Little League World Series, and the airport nearest to Melissa's house. In order to be hungry enough to eat pizza later, I skipped the free airline meal. In all the traveling I did this was the only time I turned down the airline food. Many of the other consultants would routinely reject airline food, then pay for an expensive meal when they reached their destination, charging it to our company of course.

After we landed I headed for the Avis counter where I was told I was upgraded. It took me over ten minutes to convince the girl behind the counter I preferred an inferior car, as long as it had a bench seat.

It was a little past eight o'clock when I rang Melissa's doorbell, about fifteen minutes later than I had expected to be there. She answered the door and saw it was me, said "I'll be with you in a minute.", then closed the door again. She really doesn't want her parents to meet me!

She came back out a minute or two later. She was wearing jeans and a checkered flannel shirt, what we used to call a lumberjack shirt, and she was zipping up a stylish looking suede jacket as she came out. We exchanged hellos and got in the car. She seemed rather reserved, no big smile or real enthusiasm in her voice. Once in the car she stayed at the far side of the bench seat. I don't know what I expected but I was disappointed that she didn't slide over to the middle of the seat.

I realized we'd only had one date, and even teenagers wouldn't normally snuggle up after just one date -- and we were not teenagers! But for some reason I was disappointed! We made casual conversation as she directed me to a pizzeria. We weren't talking about anything important but I kept getting a vibe that things had cooled off considerably. I'll bet she told her parents about me, including the fact that I'm married, and her parents have been lecturing her about the risks of seeing a married man, that no matter what I say I'm just out to take advantage of her and she'll get hurt in the end.

The pizzeria was typical of the shops I'd been to in the Philadelphia area years ago. I ordered a medium pizza, which was hand tossed, then baked in a brick oven with small openings for individual pies. We were the only customers eating there, but they got several take-out and delivery orders while we were there. Melissa ate two slices, again displaying a good appetite given that she had eaten dinner. Of course I had no trouble eating the other six slices -- it was a real treat!

We got back in the car and, although she still sat in the right hand seat, Melissa seemed to be in a friendlier mood, smiling and speaking enthusiastically. She didn't say anything or react in any other way when I drove right past her house. I had wanted to kiss her so badly when I picked her up but her demeanor had cautioned me against making a bold move. But now I intended to pursue a make out session.

I pulled into the parking lot behind the Downtown Hotel where I'd be staying on this trip. I didn't really want to stay there but I sort of got forced into it. The day I first used the desk in the customer service department the CEO had previously told his secretary to phone me at the hotel to tell me the conference room was not available. When she told him I was not staying there he was livid. The family that owned the business I was working at also owned the Downtown Hotel. Later that day the CEO called me to his office to chastise me. I explained to him that we did not bill his company directly for our expenses for food and lodging so we were free to stay where we liked. I had stayed at the hotel on my first trip but did not like it, mainly because the towels had no absorbency. Central Pennsylvania has very hard water and the Downtown Hotel either didn't use a water softener or it was not operated properly. All their towels had little calcium carbonate coatings on every cotton fiber. Wiping your body was like using a chamois on a wet car -- it broke up the droplets but left you wet. I had to use my hair blower to dry my body. He insisted they had corrected the problem so I promised I would stay there on my next trip.

I parked far from the building where the parking lot was the darkest. I don't remember what I said to Melissa during the trip, but once I parked I said, "I have wanted to kiss you ever since our lips separated last Wednesday." We moved toward one another and kissed. And when that kiss ended (less than five minutes this time but still a long sensuous kiss) we kissed again. We continued kissing for about fifteen minutes during which time I unzipped her jacket and held her close to me. Her lips and tongue felt so good I didn't want to stop, just like a teenager. When I slid my left hand up to her right breast I found out just how flat she was. I felt her hard nipple through her shirt (she was not wearing a bra) but did not feel any fatty tissue under the nipple. This did not affect the intensity of my feelings for Melissa; it was simply something I noted in an academic fashion.

We continued necking. I shifted my hand down to her hip and tried to pull her on top of me so I could caress her ass but she resisted so I backed off and settled for kissing and holding her close. Finally, I decided to go for broke. "I haven't checked in yet, but will you go up to my room with me?" "No, but I will tomorrow night." Well, that was the second best answer she could have given me! I took her home and kissed her goodnight shortly thereafter.

I returned to the hotel and checked in. In modern hotels the rooms are mostly all alike, a cookie-cutter approach; but in old hotels, and I guessed this one was built before the turn of the century and updated with electricity later, the rooms and their furnishings are often unique. I was assigned to a center room; it had no windows. With the lights off it was absolutely pitch black. I had to leave the bathroom light on with the door cracked open so I wouldn't trip or run into something when I awoke in the morning. The overhead light in the center of the room was a naked bulb and the desk light had a blown out bulb. At least the bed was relatively new and very comfortable.

When I took a shower in the morning I learned that the towels were the same as the ones I'd had on my previous stay. I decided to stay for the three nights of my reservation but resolved to not stay here in the future.

THE FIRST TIME -- AND THE SECOND

Despite being upset about my room and its shortcomings, I was in a really good mood as I went to work Tuesday morning. Why not; I was going to get to have sex with my "living doll" before the night was over. I resolved to not masturbate during the day (I had late last night at the hotel) so I would be at the peak of anticipation. As I sat at my desk Melissa gave me that big open smile I enjoyed so much. Then, when she made her first trip out to a CSR, I saw that she was wearing her black skirt that turned me on so much. I tried to fight the urge to masturbate, but by 3pm I couldn't stand it any longer so I headed for the men's room.

While meeting with Tom Chambers, the programmer, I thanked him for his recommendation of the Holiday Inn. "It was really nice and the food was excellent. Can you recommend another good restaurant?"

"Well", he said. "There's no music but if you like sea food there's an excellent restaurant over by the Geisinger Medical Center. They get fresh fish flown in daily so the menu changes all the time. It's an old two-story building; the first floor is a medical supply business which closes at about five; the second floor is the restaurant, with outside stairs. It doesn't look like much from the outside but the food is really good!"

"That sounds great. I love sea food, which is one thing my wife never cooks, so I try to eat as much of it as I can when I'm on the road."

At lunch time I asked Melissa if she liked sea food. "Oh yes, I love sea food", she answered. "Good. Tom told me about a good restaurant near the Geisinger Medical Center. I'll pick you up at seven."

During our trip to the restaurant neither of us discussed what was to come later but Melissa was obviously in a good mood so I assumed that whatever had upset her at the start of the previous evening was now over and done with. Once again, she had come to the door immediately when I rang the bell. She had her long coat on but she left it unbuttoned, just pulling the two sides around her for warmth until we reached the car. She sat in the right hand seat so I assumed this was just her nature now that she was an adult.

I thought back to when I was dating Joan. I owned a 1955 Studebaker with a manual transmission and the shift lever on the steering column. Once she and I were dating regularly, she sat in the center and did the shifting for us so I could keep my arm around her, even as we drove the crowded streets of center-city Philadelphia. But once we were married she only sat in the center if we had a third person in the front seat. So I guessed Melissa was no different than Joan in this respect.

The car was comfortably warm so Melissa left her coat open. Once again she was wearing a very short dress which was quite similar to the other two I had seen. As I opened the door for her at the restaurant I leaned in and kissed her. "I just didn't want to wait until after dinner to do that."

The building housing the restaurant was probably once a two family residence but now everything near the famous medical center was commercial. The outside steps led to a small landing and the entrance door. The seating portion of the restaurant was a large open room, probably formed from two rooms by eliminating some walls. There were several booths along the walls, all of which were occupied. We were led to a table for two in the middle of the room.

The hostess took our drink orders and I once again explained that I drink gin and tonic all year around. She smiled, as they always do, and left to get our drinks. Our waitress came with menus and also explained the day's specials, based upon the fresh sea food they had on hand.

I don't remember the details of our meal the way I remember our dinner at the Holiday Inn but I know we ordered two of their special dishes. From the way she reacted I don't believe Melissa had ever had anything but fried fish. We both enjoyed our meals, which included a self-serve salad bar and, of course, a nice bottle of white wine. Again, Melissa displayed a very healthy appetite as she ate everything she was served.

Melissa was much more at ease than on our first date. As I think back to it now I believe she was more on edge at the beginning of that first date than I was. I must have represented a significant departure from most of the other people she knew; I was older, more sophisticated, better educated, and probably more successful. But, in dealing with people, the learning curve is usually pretty fast, and now Melissa realized I really liked and desired her, I was not at all critical of her, there were many things she could do better than I, like dancing, and she was free to order anything she chose when we went to a restaurant. Our conversation was open and she smiled a lot, but I still avoided potentially painful subjects like what happened in her marriage.

I kissed her again before we left the parking lot, then drove straight to the Downtown Hotel. We entered through the back door and walked up to my second floor room. As we entered the room I turned on the ceiling light and hung up our coats. She sat on the side of the bed as I removed my tie. She hadn't said anything about the glaring, naked bulb so I left the light on and sat down beside her.

I already had an erection, before we had even kissed. I don't know if it started when we entered the room or even before that but, needless to say, I was very excited. We started kissing and I held her close. Between kisses I told her how much I liked her and how good she looked and felt.

I also asked her about protection. "We don't need to use any; I can't have a child." Well, since she can't have anymore children I won't have to explain that I've had a vasectomy. I had a vasectomy about three years earlier when Joan and I decided that even if a tragedy struck us we did not want to have children when we were over thirty-five. Before that she had been on the pill but felt that it was the cause of her low sex drive. Of course, that turned out to not be true!

I gently pushed Melissa down so she was lying on the bed with her lower legs over the side. The hem of her minidress was just below the crotch. I put my left hand on her thigh, a little above the knee, and told her again what attractive legs she had.

From the start of our first kiss, while my external self was kissing and caressing her and talking to her my internal self was talking to me. I guess it's like multitasking on a computer, one program is running in the foreground while the other is running in the background. My mind was telling me, "I'm about to fuck this living doll! I want her so much; her little body fits so perfectly with mine and she's not objecting to anything we're doing." This kind of mind play went on throughout our foreplay.

I moved my hand up her leg, mainly rubbing her thigh with my palm so I wouldn't tear her pantyhose. I went up to her waist, went back and forth across her perfectly flat belly, then down under her pantyhose and panties. We continued to kiss as my hand reached her sexual center. I remember thinking how different from Joan she felt. When I cupped her mound it felt very firm and projected forward more than Joan's. When I extended my middle finger into her vagina it was very wet. She was obviously as excited as I was; well, no, I doubt that. My mind was still working on me and I felt as if I would soon burst. I continued to finger-fuck her for several minutes while we enjoyed a long, sensual kiss.

When the kiss ended, while maintaining the finger play I said, "I want you to enjoy sex with me as much as I'm going to enjoy it. Tell me what you like."

"I certainly like what you're doing now", she answered. Her breathing was labored and she was wetter than ever; she may have had a small orgasm. I didn't know because I really didn't know how to identify a woman's orgasm. If Joan ever had any, they were very mild. I remember that sometimes as we were having intercourse with me on top she would grip my arms very tightly for a few seconds. Perhaps that was her orgasm.

Finally, Melissa said, "Let's take off our clothes and get into bed." We each undressed ourselves. I got down to my briefs, went to the bathroom, turned on the light and left the door cracked open a few inches as I had the previous night. The overhead light was not a problem when Melissa was lying across the bed but it would be when we were in the bed so I turned it off.

Melissa was already under the covers when I got back to the bed and took off my briefs. She was on her back; I laid next to her on my stomach and started kissing her again while my left hand moved across her body, from her breast nipples down her right side to her hip and thigh, then back to her vagina. I put my middle finger in her again, then moved the palm upward as I withdrew the finger. I finger-fucked her for several minutes while continuing with intense kisses. Her mound is so firm and sticks out so much. It's so exciting, making out with her like this.



Finally I moved between her legs. I was much more excited than I was the first time I had intercourse with Joan, perhaps because Joan and I dated for about two years before we had sex, during which time we progressed very slowly in our sexual activities. When we finally had intercourse it was just the natural next step in our courtship. For Melissa and me the progression was very rapid, also there was the fact that THIS was the girl I had desired all my life.

She is so warm and wet and we fit together so perfectly. This is wonderful. Oh, no, I'm going to cum! Quick, think of something else. No, it's too late! And just like that, I ejaculated!

Fortunately my penis stayed hard so I said nothing, just kept on moving in the familiar dance of love. Melissa was so wet she may not have realized I had already cum in her. Neither of us mentioned it then or later. We stayed in the missionary position until I came again, about 10-15 minutes later. Part of the time I kept my body weight off her by keeping my arms in a pushup position, but this was tough. I'm not especially strong and I was about ten pounds overweight. I found that I could rest my left arm on my elbow right beside her head with the forearm extended beside her head or under her neck. This was a position I couldn't do the same way with Joan because of their difference in height. This was comfortable and I could either do the same thing with my right arm or, better yet, I could caress her left side down to her thigh or slip it under her to hold that fantastic ass.

When we weren't kissing and I pulled my head back a few inches I could see how she looked. Her beautiful hair maintained its shape with the ends in front still curling inward under her chin. In fact the only change from its normal look was that it pulled away from her face a little at the sides allowing me to see her ears. The picture of her was like in the movies where a hairdresser positions the star's hair so it's never out of place.

I don't remember how we ended, who decided it was time to get up, or what we said. I do remember that we each dressed ourselves. She removed her pantyhose and panties simultaneously but she put them back on separately. When I saw her ass in her cotton bikini panties I got a hard-on again. This was the voyeur in me. I think the most erotic views of attractive women are when they are wearing something rather than when they are naked, and are not aware that you are watching them.

At no time did I think about the fact that I was breaking my marriage vows. Even when I was thinking about the differences between Melissa's body and Joan's, it was an academic analysis with no emotion involved. And afterward, my only thought was the euphoria one feels when something really good has happened. As I dropped Melissa off I was already looking forward to tomorrow night.




My Fantasy Girl Ch. 03



On Wednesday I told Tom he was two for two -- the sea food restaurant was excellent. "Unfortunately", he said. "You've now been to every good restaurant I'm aware of in the area."

That evening when I picked up Melissa, she asked where we were going to eat. She was really enjoying the adventure of going out for a fancy meal every night. "We're going to eat at the Downtown Hotel", I told her.

"Oh, you don't want to waste any time getting me up to your room, do you?"

"That's not it", I said defensively. She was only kidding me but I reacted like she was serious. Then I saw her grin.

"Have you eaten there?" I asked.

"Yes, but only lunch."

"Well, in the evening they have a buffet. It's nothing special, just the usual roast beef, baked ham and fried chicken, along with lots of salad and dessert items. But they do have one special item. They have tiny peel-and-eat shrimp, and now that I know you like sea food, I'm sure you'll enjoy this meal. We can take our time and enjoy the shrimp while we drink a cocktail."

When you entered the Downtown Hotel through the front door you entered a large room which was the restaurant and the check in area as well. The buffet table was set up right next to the check in counter. There were four booths up front and a few tables in the open area. We got one of the booths.

After we ordered our drinks and I again explained my penchant for gin and tonic all year round we went to the buffet table where I filled a dinner plate with a huge mountain of tiny shrimp. Melissa picked up two small plates and put some cocktail sauce on them.

Back at the table I peeled one of the shrimp and put it on Melissa's plate "Thank you", she said as she ate the shrimp and I peeled another. I also placed this one on her plate. She ate it and said, "You know I can eat these things faster than you can peel them, don't you? You're never going to get any if you keep this up. I can peel my own."

She was right of course. I was treating her like a little porcelain doll that might break at any time, but she was an adult who was tough enough to make it through whatever it was that had happened to her marriage. From that point on we ate and drank and enjoyed the experience and each other. Although I was anxious to have sex with her again I was not in the state I had been in the night before. We ate so many shrimp we had to get a second round of drinks. I ordered a bottle of zinfandel once we got past the shrimp.

When we finished eating we were stuffed. We had even managed to put away dessert and coffee at the end of the meal. The food selections were not as fancy as at the other two restaurants we'd been to but we enjoyed the meal just as much.

After dinner, at my suggestion I might add, we went for a walk along the main street of town. The winter weather had progressed to the point that there was a permanent border of snow between the sidewalk and the street, which would be there until spring. The weather was clear and the local businesses had provided a wide path along the sidewalk free of snow, so we enjoyed the walk, looking in the various display windows as we went. The central business district was only three blocks long, anchored at one end by the hotel and at the other end by a movie theater. By the time we got back to the hotel we were ready for the warmth inside. We went up to my room and started a repeat of the previous night's activities.

ESTABLISHING A ROUTINE

I had to spend the entire next week in Canada on another project so I didn't get to see Melissa for nearly two whole weeks. However, the next several weeks would be my time for maximum concentration on the Pennsylvania project so I would get to see her for two or three dates each of those weeks.

Each day that I was in my office in Atlanta I called Melissa right at 12 noon and talked with her until it was time for her to join her friend for lunch. When I was somewhere else, usually Montreal or New York City, I would call her at home in the evening every other night. We never talked for a long time; mostly I just told her I missed her and couldn't wait until I got to see her again.

I did not stay at the Downtown Hotel anymore. I stayed at a motor lodge on the edge of town. These were quite common in the forties and fifties but they gave way to motels starting in the sixties. The characteristics of a motor lodge was that it was a long, narrow one story building, consisting of a string of rooms, with parking right at the door to each room. The larger ones usually had a larger room in the center, which was the office, and often the home of an on-site proprietor. This one had a separate in-wall heating/air conditioning unit (HVAC) in each room. On each trip I checked in as soon as I got into town and turned on the heater so the room would be comfortable when I came back after work.

The rooms were large with a queen-size bed, a table and some chairs next to the wall with the HVAC system and a full length mirror facing the foot of the bed. The lighting was good, without glare, so the first time we had sex there, and every time thereafter, I left the light on.

On that first occasion we were lying naked on top of the sheet as we were engaged in foreplay. I kissed down Melissa's body to below her naval while playing with her with my fingers. Her pubic hair was trimmed to a neat triangle pointing toward her vagina. This surprised me as Joan never cut her pussy hair; the only women I had seen that looked like Melissa were the ones in girly magazines like Playboy and Penthouse and I'd always assumed it was only those "wild" girls that went bald or trimmed. When I asked her about it, she explained it was necessary for when she wore a bikini during the summer. Well, of course! When Joan was young, bikinis were still not generally accepted. Her two piece bathing suits had full coverage bottoms, and she always wore full coverage panties under her clothes so she doesn't need to trim or shave there.

"Wait until you see me in my little white bikini. You'll love it", Melissa said. "You're a leg and butt man and they both look very good in my bikini."

I was tempted to continue down and start kissing her clit and her vagina but I didn't. Instead I moved up and kissed her on the mouth. We soon progressed to intercourse.

One other time I started to go down on her but didn't. When we came to my room after dinner on an especially cold evening, it was stifling hot. The thermostat, built into the HVAC system, was set to about 70 but the system was still running and the temperature was well over 80. I banged on the unit with the heel of my hand, hoping to free it if it was stuck, but the heater continued to run. I turned it off completely. We quickly took off our clothes and got on the bed.

We started to make out but in just a few minutes it was too cold. Obviously the building was not insulated very well. We got under the covers but it was still uncomfortable. I turned the unit back on, but since I had no tools I couldn't fix the thermostat. It was soon too hot again and we shed all the covers. I turned the unit off again and turned back toward the bed.

Melissa was lying there with her head on a pillow and her legs splayed out. I knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and put one hand on each leg about half way up her calves. As I slowly moved my hands up her legs I gave her soft kisses just above my hands, alternating between her left and right legs. As I got to the tops of her thighs I wanted to kiss her vagina but I was concerned that it would upset her so I kissed just above her pubic hair instead. She said nothing, and I moved on up her body, kissing as I went. I don't know why I did what I did. She never moved a muscle as I was kissing her thighs so she probably would have welcomed a deep kiss of her pussy.

I do know that Melissa was like Joan in many ways when it came to sexual behavior. In these early weeks of our relationship she never touched my penis. Joan seldom touched me and on the few occasions she took me into her mouth she insisted I not ejaculate in her mouth or on her face. And Joan did not seem to like me going down on her. When I did she would grasp my head after a short time and pull me up. It was as if she was afraid of an intense orgasm. I believe those thoughts are what prevented me from going down on Melissa that night. And like so many subjects, we never discussed sexual desires after my one comment the first night.

I also managed to cause her to become upset a couple of times. One of these occurred early in our relationship. She was lying on the bed and I was kissing her upper body. "You know," I said. "My boobs are bigger than yours." My body type is endomorph, i.e.-I tend to have fatty tissue, so my statement was true. However, I had seriously underestimated how sensitive Melissa was about her flat chest. She got a pained look on her face and said something to the effect that, if I didn't like her body, I didn't have to touch it. I spent the next several minutes trying to placate her. Eventually she came around and we went back to making love.

My voyeuristic nature was the cause of the second time she became upset. She was lying on her side, lengthwise on the bed, fully dressed with her legs pulled up at a right angle to her body. I was lying next to her and we were kissing, the very start of foreplay. After a kiss, I turned my head and, quite by accident, I viewed her in the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. I had a perfect view of the backs of her thighs and her ass, still covered by panties and pantyhose. It was fantastic! After a few seconds, realizing I still wasn't giving her another kiss, she turned her head.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Admiring you in the mirror."

"Well, get back here and pay some attention to ME!"

I kissed her and, while we kissed, I pivoted our heads so I could see the mirror without changing her body position.

This time she broke the kiss. "What's the matter with you? Are you sick?" She shifted her legs, taking away my view. "You'd rather look at my image than to feel the real thing." What could I say? I told her I enjoyed looking at her and feeling her, but, again, it took a while to calm her down.

All in all, however, things were going very well. We tried another restaurant or two but Tom was right, the Holiday Inn and the sea food restaurant at Geisinger were the two best around. Melissa and I also liked the buffet at the Downtown Hotel, mainly because we enjoyed dawdling over a large plate of tiny shrimp. We settled into a routine of eating at the sea food restaurant one night and at the hotel buffet the other night. During this time, I never invited her to return to the Holiday Inn. I believe that, subconsciously, I was afraid she would want to dance and it would get so late that I would lose out on sex for the night.

Melissa never asked to go back to the Holiday Inn. In fact, she accepted everything I said or did without question except once, and that's when I told her my second lie. By this time I had told her my true age. She was shocked. "Wow, you're nearly as old as my mother!" she exclaimed. "She's only seven years older than you." "Ah, but I don't feel about her the way I feel about you." By this time we had progressed to the point that we were saying "I love you" while having sex so Melissa accepted my true age and never mentioned it again.

My second lie occurred while we were in the car on the way to dinner. She shocked me when, out of the blue, she said, "You know, I'm not so sexually oriented that I like to do it every night." Oh, no, what a blow to my manhood! I knew I wasn't a particularly good lover but her comment really bothered me. "Well," I said. "If I were here all the time I wouldn't want sex every night, but since I'm only here a couple of nights each week I certainly want to make love to you every night I'm here." The truth was, even if I was with her every night, I would still want sex every night. She accepted my answer and we continued to make love every night I was there during this time period.

The only exception was that one of my trips was during her period. Joan and I never wanted to have sex during her period so when Melissa told me about it, I told her we could just not have sex on those nights and that was fine with her.

The first night of my trip we ate at the hotel, then walked to the theater and watched the movie (the town had just one theater with a single screen so there was no choice involved). It was a really bad disaster movie called "Towering Inferno". It had a huge cast but they couldn't save a poor script with hackneyed lines and cheesy special effects. There was hardly anyone else in the theater so we laughed and cut up. We also cuddled. All-in-all it was an enjoyable evening.

The next night we ate sea food, then went to my room and cuddled some more. Her flow had slowed down by then. She told me the next night would be fine so I stayed an extra day and did get to have sex with her once that trip.

On my first trip to Pennsylvania after my week in Canada, when I got to Melissa's house to take her out for the evening, she told me to come in. We had obviously crossed a line; I don't know if the impetus came from Melissa or her parents. They were very cool toward me and it was obvious they didn't approve of Melissa becoming involved with a married man. The mother especially, probably wanting to protect her only child, did little to hide her disdain for me. But, like people of every generation before the Boomers, they were too polite to be really nasty. For instance, her mother never asked how my wife was!

On the other hand, her seven year old daughter, Heather, was precious. She was beautiful, friendly though a little shy, very polite, and showed respect and love for her mother and her grandparents. She was very alert and spoke perfect English, just like her mother. Upon meeting her, my respect for Melissa grew as she had obviously done a very good parenting job. One of the thoughts I had was how easily Heather would fit in with my own children, the youngest of whom was nearly ten. Of course that would never be as Joan was also an excellent mother and would get custody of the children when we got divorced.

Almost everything was perfect during these early weeks in our courtship. I enjoyed the dinners and the conversations, even though we didn't really say anything most of the time. I certainly enjoyed holding Melissa, with or without clothes, and kissing her was still as exciting as it was the first time. When I asked, she told me she was exactly five feet tall, normally weighed 100 pounds though she was down to 98 at the moment, and her measurements were 32-21-33. It all seemed perfect to me.

When we were in bed, I liked to address her as "Melissa melove". It might not be good English but I loved the way it rolls off the tongue. (Note: pronounce both e's the same way.)

For the most part our pillow talk was innocuous though there was one significant exchange which occurred when I speculated about the possibility of a long term relationship, i.e.-marriage.

"I don't know if I could ever marry you," Melissa said, "because I could never trust you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're cheating on your wife right now, aren't you? How do I know you wouldn't cheat on me?"

"I went fifteen years without looking at another woman, and I wouldn't be here with you now if I wasn't convinced that Joan no longer loves me. As long as you show your love for me and insist I show you the same feelings we would have no problems."

As with so many of the things I said, Melissa seemed to accept it, but I wasn't sure at the time.

THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE

I believe that it is possible to love more than one person at the same time but you can only be IN LOVE with one person at a time. Obviously we all love multiple people like our parents, our children, our siblings, etc. Now I know this is a different type of love but it figures we can also have multiple romantic loves. Even now I still loved Joan but I was certainly no longer in love with her.

Valentine's Day was on a Friday. This would be the last of the string of weeks in which I went to Pennsylvania. It became the best week of my life because that's when I decided Melissa was in love with me and I with her. We had already been saying "I love you" to each other for a couple of weeks but our relationship went to a new level this week.

I had my secretary make my reservations to go up on Wednesday and return on Friday but I had no intention of coming back Friday evening. As soon as I got to Wilkes-Barre / Scranton airport I changed my return trip to Atlanta to Saturday afternoon from Williamsport. I had already told Melissa my plans and she was excited. She told me she wanted to go to a place in Wilkes-Barre which served excellent Italian food and also had dancing.

On Tuesday on my way home from the office I bought some candy, lots of candy. Although my family moved frequently when I was a kid we seemed to periodically recycle back to the Philadelphia area where Whitman's candy was displayed in the stores so prominently that I wasn't aware of any other brand of boxed candy when I moved to Atlanta in 1970 (Whitman's headquarters and main manufacturing plant were in Camden, New Jersey just across the Delaware River from Philly). In Atlanta, two brands were given equal shelf space, Whitman's and Russell Stover, an Atlanta company which I assumed was a regional supplier. On the next candy-giving occasion I bought Russell Stover; Joan and I both preferred it to Whitman's.

So on Tuesday I bought Joan a box of chocolate covered cherry cordials, her favorite. I also got four half-pound boxes of assorted chocolates for the receptionist and the three secretaries (not including Melissa), and I got a large heart-shaped two pound box for Melissa. It had a red satin cover and a Barbie-type doll. I selected a package that featured a doll with dark hair and a short yellow dress. It had a little heart shaped base on which the doll was mounted.

I left all the candy in the car overnight. On Wednesday morning I put Joan's candy on the kitchen table as I left to catch the early bird flight. Per my normal procedure I checked in at the motor court before going to the office, and I left Melissa's candy there.

I gave the receptionist one of the boxes of candy when I entered the office. "Happy Valentine's Day," I said. "This is an Atlanta brand you can't get up here in Pennsylvania. I hope you enjoy it."

"Thank you Bob." She said.

I went to my desk, exchanged smiles with Melissa, then took the bag with the remaining three boxes to visit the other secretaries. I explained to each of them that it was an Atlanta brand not available here. They each thanked me. I felt pretty good about my generosity and the chance to introduce them to something they couldn't normally get.

When I got to Melissa's house that evening she and her parents were in the living room. The room had a TV set backed up to the front window. Her father sat in a large overstuffed chair to the left of the TV while her mother and she sat in two smaller chairs to the right. Directly in front of the TV was a small sofa which is where I sat. I gave Melissa the box of candy, which I kept behind my back until she sat down after letting me in.

"Wow," she said. "I've never seen such a large box of candy. It's beautiful."

"The brand is Russell Stover. It's an Atlanta company. You can't get it up here."

Melissa was still looking at the heart shaped box sitting on her lap. Without looking up, she said, "Why, of course you can. Russell Stover is all over the country. They had it out in San Diego."

"Oh, no! I bought small boxes for each of the other secretaries and told them it wasn't available here. They never said anything."




My Fantasy Girl Ch. 03



With a big grin on her face, she looked at me and said, "Yes, I know. I heard."

I was embarrassed but it was too late to do anything about it so I went on as if nothing had happened. "Well, I wanted to get you one with a doll. I figured you could give that to Heather."

She was looking down at the box again. "No way! She's not getting to touch this doll."

What! How mean! I can't believe she would deprive her daughter of the doll. This is a side of Melissa I've never seen. The doll isn't even worth anything to speak of.

Just then, Heather, who had been taking her bath, came down the steps in her pajamas and joined us, standing next to her mother. "Oh, how pretty!" she declared.

Melissa started to remove the cellophane wrapping from the box. "Would you like a piece Heather?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay, but remember, you can't take any of this candy except when I'm here and you have to take the piece you touch first."

"I understand mommy."

Melissa opened the box and offered each of us a piece. She offered her parents a second piece, then took the box up to her bedroom before we left to go to the sea food restaurant.

All through dinner I was bothered by what Melissa had said about not giving the doll to Heather. Then, just before the end of the meal, it hit me. She wasn't denying Heather anything significant. After all, Melissa and her family might not have as much in the way of material goods as Joan and I had, but they weren't destitute. Heather's bed probably looked just like those of my daughters, crowded with dolls and stuffed animals. If she gave this cheap little doll to Heather, she might play with it for a day or so, then it would be relegated to her toy box and she would go back to playing with her favorites.

But this doll obviously meant something to Melissa. She was probably going to give it a place of honor in her bedroom, and it was significant because it was a gift from me. She's in love with me! She's REALLY in love with me! Oh, wow, this changes everything. I think I'm in love with her too.



I didn't say anything to Melissa about how I felt when she first said she wouldn't give the doll to Heather nor about how I felt now, but I was floating on air the rest of the evening.

I thought a lot about my situation before going to sleep that night. Melissa and I are really in love with each other and I know Joan is not in love with me any longer. She will be hurt when I ask for a divorce, but that's because Joan does not like having a lot of responsibility for things like family finances, not because she would miss me!

Thursday evening we went to the Downtown Hotel to eat. After we were settled in with our drinks and tiny shrimp I said "Your birthday is coming up in less than two weeks. I was planning on buying you some clothes and you would really like them. I happen to have very good taste when it comes to women's clothing."

"Well, you certainly dress very well." She interjected.

I went on. "Thanks. But I've decided to not get you clothes. I want to buy you a set of contact lenses."

She had been mostly looking down as she was peeling shrimp. Now, she looked up and with a serious look on her face she said, "Oh, no Bob. You can't. It's too much."

"You're right. In one sense it is too much. It's certainly more than I've ever spent on a gift for anyone. But it's something you really want but can't afford to buy for yourself right now, and I can. Besides, I get the pleasure of knowing that when you put them on, you will think of me every morning."

"Oh, Bob. I already do." She said this last very softly with her head still up but her eyes dipped downward. YES, she is definitely in love with me. This is perfect!

Aloud, I told her, "Call your optometrist tomorrow to find out the cost. Tell him you can pay him $100 now and the rest in three weeks. If that's okay with him, make an appointment."

I carried very little cash on me as I lived on plastic when traveling, but I kept a $100 bill tucked away in my wallet (I still do; old habits die hard) and it came in handy a few times when only cash would do.

Melissa accepted the fact that I was serious about wanting to do this for her, and then a funny thing happened. She was eating the shrimp and carrying on a conversation with me, but I could tell from the glazed look in her eyes and the expression on her face that her mind was in another world. She may have been thinking, "He's definitely in love with me!" She may also have been thinking how she would enjoy telling her parents and any friends she had who were opposed to her dating me.

The next morning (Friday -- Valentine's Day) Melissa told me she made an appointment with her optometrist for Monday. The total cost, including a year's insurance, would be $200. I told her it was wise to buy insurance when you first get contact lenses but not to buy it in the future. Being a responsible adult, Melissa would not have trouble with her lenses once she got used to caring for them. I gave her the $100 bill at lunch time.

That night we drove to Wilkes-Barre to the Italian restaurant Melissa had been to before. She didn't say how long ago she'd been there and I didn't ask, but it was vastly different than it had been. There was no longer live music and there was no dance floor. The waitress told us the same family still ran the place and the food was the same but the dance crowd had moved on to some other venue. They spread the tables further apart to take up the space where the dance floor had been and they now had soft background music played through ceiling speakers.

The food was very good. We had a large meal, complete with lots of Chianti. As we were near the end of our meal, a large group came in, about twenty or so, ranging in age from the high teens to about thirty-five. Our waitress came to our table and told us, if we wanted dessert, to give her the order now. The group was a dance lesson class which came once a month to have dessert and coffee, and dance. She explained that, although there was no dance floor, they danced between the tables. They liked to come here because they were just learning to dance and they wouldn't be embarrassed by other, good dancers.

"This is great," I told Melissa. "I'll fit right in with this group." When some of the members got up to dance, we did too. Only slow music was played so Melissa and I looked pretty good. I held her very close and, of course, I soon had an erection. "I love to dance. It's such a wonderful prelude to making love," she said as she pressed against me.

It was close to midnight when we left for the hour-plus trip to my room. As always, I opened the door for Melissa, then went around to the driver's side. When I got in, Melissa was right there against me. How wonderful, having her right beside me. I put my arm around her and she leaned back against me for the trip.

It was about 2:30 when I took Melissa home after making love to her. She told me to come in. We sat on the small sofa facing the TV set with our arms around one another and soon fell asleep. It was one of the few times in my life I slept with contact lenses on.

I woke up when I heard Heather, using a rather loud stage-whisper voice, telling her mother to wake up. It was about 7am, probably the time Heather got up every day. Melissa told me to wait a minute while she went up to the bathroom, then I could go up when she was done. We had fallen asleep in our date clothes, minus my tie, but Melissa changed to jeans before she came back down.

When I came back down the steps after using the bathroom I joined the family in the kitchen. Melissa's parents had finished their breakfast but were still drinking coffee. Heather was finishing a bowl of cereal, after which she asked to be excused. Melissa poured me some orange juice and asked me how I liked my eggs. I don't normally eat a large breakfast but I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't want any eggs. Besides, I wouldn't get to eat lunch until at least 1:30 on the plane.

"Over with a soft yolk and a firm white, if you can do that."

"Do you want two or three and do you prefer them cooked in butter or bacon fat?"

"Two, cooked in butter, please."

I didn't know if she ever worked as a short order cook, but the eggs came out perfect. Joan was an excellent cook but she could not prepare fried eggs and get them to come out the way Melissa did.

I ate a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash brown potatoes and toast.

After breakfast I went back to my motel, took a shower and checked out. I went back to Melissa's house since I had about an hour to spare before leaving for Williamsport. I spent it with Melissa and Heather. Melissa was definitely in mommy-mode now. I enjoyed seeing how they related to one another.

Then, feeling sad because I wouldn't be back for three weeks, I left for the airport.

THE PROJECT WINDS DOWN

I did not return to Pennsylvania until the first week in March. Melissa and I talked frequently on the phone until then, with Melissa giving me a detailed account of how the conversion to contact lenses was going. Hard lenses required a long gradual break-in period. When I got mine it took about three months before you could wear them full time. By 1975, the process was quicker but it still took about six weeks.

When I got to the office Melissa was wearing her glasses. She was up to six hours wearing time for her contacts so she was holding off putting them on until she got ready for our date.

I think that by now everyone in the customer service department knew Melissa and I were a couple. They didn't say anything but I could feel their looks.

As before, everything with Melissa was great except for intercourse itself. I still couldn't bring myself to do or say anything to change it. And, of course, Melissa continued to be very passive. In some ways I was treating our entire relationship like a fairy tale, not wanting to do anything to upset it.

I was in Pennsylvania during the first week of April for just the third time since Valentine's Day. On Friday, April 4th I laid out a tentative schedule for the rest of the project. I would come up next week, then twice in May and it should be over except for a final report, which I would write in Atlanta. I told Melissa I planned to come back next week but I did not discuss the rest of the project schedule with her.



My Fantasy Girl Ch. 04



INTRODUCTION

When I was young, like most other kids, I often fantasized that I was a famous movie star or a great athlete. But I gave up these fantasies because they weren't practical, and I became very practical at an early age. From that time on my fantasies consisted of taking a real situation, then projecting forward in time with everything going perfect.

One of my best fantasies was when I was in sixth grade. My teacher secured a scholarship for me to attend one of the exclusive private schools in the Philadelphia area. I simply had to maintain good grades to keep it all the way through the end of high school. I was sure I could do that, and the contacts I would make with some of Philadelphia's most important families would be very helpful in my career down the road. 

The scholarship offer was real. My parents and I even went to visit the campus and be interviewed by the headmaster. My fantasy involved athletics. The private schools had multiple teams in each sport, based on size. Football, for instance, was based on weight. As a seventh grader I would be competing mostly against third and fourth graders and even though they would be the same weight as me my extra maturity would give me a big advantage. I fantasized about being a star on the weight-controlled team, and becoming good enough to make the varsity in high school, which was not weight-controlled.

As it turned out my father changed jobs and we had to move away from Philadelphia. My scholarship included room and board but my parents would hardly ever get to see me so they turned down the offer.

As I left for the airport on Friday, April 4th I started my most elaborate fantasy ever, about my future, personally and professionally. It started with a definite plan for Monday.

MONDAY

I had one coworker who had divorced and then married a woman much younger than he was. His second wife had worked for him at the company he was at before joining our consulting firm and his first wife got custody of his two children, so it wasn't much of a leap for me to assume he was having an affair while married to his first wife. Although this all happened outside Atlanta I thought he could give me some insight on how he came through his divorce financially and what to look for in a lawyer.

I had no intention of short-changing Joan or the kids. In fact I wanted to offer her the same settlement she would win if she proved adultery, but I hoped to avoid a contentious trial and settle it within Georgia's no-fault divorce rules. I had no idea how it would play out financially but que sera sera, whatever would be would be. It was my wish to meet with an attorney Monday afternoon so I would have an idea of what my finances would look like before I left for Pennsylvania. 

That was my plan, now for my fantasy.

TUESDAY

Melissa and I are sitting at a table for two in the middle of the sea food restaurant. As usual all the booths and several of the tables are occupied. The waitress has just brought our cocktails, a 7 and 7 for Melissa and a gin and tonic for me. I turn to the waitress, "Thank you. We'll be a few minutes before we are ready to order. I'll let you know."

Melissa gives me a quizzical look as the waitress leaves. We each take a swallow of our drinks and then I begin, "Melissa, my project work is coming to an end soon so it's time for us to have a serious discussion about us."

"Bob," she starts but I interrupt her.

"No. Let me say what I have to say. Then I'll give you all the time you want. You know how much I've enjoyed being with you these last several months and if you want it to just be a pleasant interlude; well, I'll have to live with that. But I would like it to be more. I think we are in love with each other and I want something permanent."

As I pause to take a swallow of my drink Melissa starts in again. "Bob, I --"

"No," I interrupt her again. "Let me finish. I think I know a lot about you but you know very little about me. As for what I know about you; for instance, I've seen you and Heather together enough to know you are an excellent, very responsible mother. Her love and respect for you shows in her eyes.

I also believe you are an excellent cook."

"Now, how do you know that?" she squeezes into the conversation.

"You may think it's trivial but I think fixing fried eggs is very difficult. The way you handled the frying pan and the fact that the eggs were perfect is very meaningful. Joan is an excellent cook but she can't consistently get fried eggs to come out right. You may not know how to cook all the dishes I like, but learning new recipes is easy if you know your way around the kitchen, and you obviously do!"

"What else?"

Now I have her attention. "I believe you know how to handle money. I know things are tight for you right now but, from what I've seen, I believe you would be a good, careful shopper even if you had more at your disposal. For starters, what you have, like the coat you're wearing tonight and your suede jacket, are good quality which will last for a long time, making them better buys than cheaper but inferior coats would be. As for your dresses, I believe they are home-made but they are very well done. I don't know if it's simply your mother who is a good seamstress or if you did a lot of the work yourself, but the dresses look very good and are well made."

As I take another sip of my drink, she asks, "How did you know my dresses are home made?" She wasn't interrupting, just curious about my deductions.

"The three dresses you have worn on our dates are very similar even though the tops and the sleeves and the belts are different. When I was young, my mother made a lot of clothes for my sister. The patterns came with a basic structure but a lot of alternatives to enable the seamstress to vary the final look. Incidentally, the one you're wearing tonight with the vertical pleats is my favorite. And that black skirt I like so much was probably made from the same pattern. It looks just like the skirt portions of your dresses but, being a stiffer material, it sticks out away from your body, showing off more of your legs."

"Are you done?"

"No. I also think you're quite intelligent, even though you've had a limited education. I can tell that because your English is perfect. You may not have a real large vocabulary but your sentence structure and pronunciation are just right. I'll bet that, before you dropped out, you got good grades, probably As and Bs." She nods her head as if to confirm my assumption about her grades. 

I go on. "But, now, as for me, you have only seen me at my best. I do believe I really am a pretty nice guy but I do have my faults. Incidentally, I don't believe being unfaithful is one of them even though you once said you'd have a hard time trusting me.

No, one of my faults is that I'm a workaholic. I spend a lot more than eight hours a day on business, which can be a nuisance if you expect me to be good company every evening. Also, like a lot of guys, I'm into sports, both participatory and as a spectator. So that eats up a lot of my spare time. Finally, I'm absolutely useless around the house. I don't wash dishes, vacuum floors, cook, or clean. I have done some creative projects but as for housework, no; I don't even mow the grass, but that might be negotiable if you find it's too hard."

I take another drink. "Are you done now?"

"Almost! I've got one more really important topic. I'm a bit of a sexaholic. I don't insist on long four hour sessions, although they are fun once in a while, but I like frequent sex. If it was up to me, we'd have it every day. Now, to get anywhere near that, you've obviously got to enjoy it too, and I don't think you've enjoyed sex with me very much. You have to help me, tell me what to do and what you like. If we are not sexually compatible, that kills everything. It's probably the biggest problem with my current marriage.

Now I'm done." And with that I finish my drink.

"Stand up.' Melissa says.

"Huh? Why?"

"Just stand up."

Hesitantly, I stand up. Melissa gets up, comes around the table, puts her arms around my neck and kisses me. It is not a simple peck like you often see a couple give one another in public but a full-blown, hot, tongue-activated, body-pressed-to-body kiss. I am shocked at the outward display by this normally reserved living doll. 

Suddenly I'm aware there is no noise in the restaurant. Everyone has stopped eating and talking. They must all be staring at us. I finally break the kiss. Then I turn my head and speaking to no one in particular I say, "I think I just got engaged."

The room breaks out in cheers and clapping for Melissa and me. I'm embarrassed, red faced, but Melissa simply smiles wickedly and moves toward her seat.

I signal the waitress. "Now we're ready to order." The waitress congratulates us and takes our order. Melissa is excited. "I really do love you," she says as we get up and go to the salad bar.

Just after we get back to our table, the waitress comes over with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. "From that table over there," she says, motioning toward one of the booths where two couples are nearly finished with dinner.

"Would you please bring four more glasses and meet us at their table?"

Melissa and I take the bottle and glasses to the table of our benefactors to introduce ourselves. One of the women asks to see Melissa's ring so I explain that I'm a consultant from Atlanta who is finishing a job here and, although we just made a total commitment to each other, there is no ring. "That's my next order of business," I tell them.

The men introduce themselves as two doctors at Geisinger, one in Neurology and the other in Pediatrics. At my request, the doctors give me their cards. Although they're in different specialties I'll bet they can recommend a good plastic surgeon. I know what I want to get Melissa as a wedding present.

After we drink a toast and drain the Champagne, Melissa and I return to our table.

"Give me some change. I want to call my mother." I never carry change so I give Melissa a dollar bill. She goes to the hostess for change but the hostess insists she use the house phone. Melissa comes back a minute later.

"I called mother and told her I want to stay overnight with you. She said to make sure we're there by seven for when Heather gets up."

Then Melissa leans over the table and in a conspiratorial tone she whispers, "Tonight I'm going to fuck your brains out!"

Wow! Melissa has never even said hell or damn and now she uses the ultimate four-letter word. She is so out-of-character tonight, but I'm sure enjoying it.

"After hearing that, why don't we skip dinner and get right to it," I say with a big smile on my face.

"No way, Buster! You're going to feed me good. Besides, you need to eat to build up your strength. Remember, you're an old man and probably can't keep up with me." There's that evil smile again. 

"Seriously, Bob, you have such a strong, dominant personality that I've always felt intimidated. The fancy dinners, you always ordering wine; you're very comfortable with this but it's new to me. I've simply gone along with whatever you said or did. But you're right, our sex life could be a lot better, and we start tonight."

With her behavior and talk, Melissa has caused me to get an erection. 

After all this, dinner, while pleasant, is anticlimactic. Finally, we're in the car headed for the motor lodge.

"You know," I say, " I've never undressed you. I've wanted to but I didn't want to tear your pantyhose, knowing how expensive they are. I would like you to take off your pantyhose when we get to my room but leave your panties on so I can undress you tonight."

"No problem," she says, as she loosens her seat belt, then raises up so she can reach under her dress and remove her pantyhose. I'm in hog heaven.

***At this time I was pulling into the Avis parking site at Wilkes-Barre / Scranton airport so I put my fantasy on hold until I had checked in for my flight to Atlanta.***

Ah, what would my night of unbridled sex consist of?

Melissa and I get our coats off and start kissing, my hands on that perfect ass, now free of the girdling effect of pantyhose. After a couple of minutes I raise the hem of her dress the few inches necessary to allow me to caress her panty-clad butt.

Finally, I break our kiss and go down on my knees, sliding my hands down the backs of her thighs. I kiss her belly through her dress, then, sliding my hands up, I raise her dress so that I can kiss her mound through just her panties. She spreads her legs to give me better access. In another minute, I start pulling her panties down while keeping my lips and now my tongue on her mound.

***They called my seat section for boarding, so once again I interrupted my fantasy for a little necessary reality. I settled into my aisle seat on the 737. There was no one in the center seat so I closed my eyes to discourage conversation with the window passenger and went back to my fantasy.***

After I spend some time kissing Melissa's vagina and clitoris while she's standing, I remove her dress and we get on the bed. She and I, working together, get me naked too, after which she takes hold of my penis and urges me into a 69 position. I'm in heaven with Melissa lying on top of me sucking my cock as I eat her pussy while caressing her ass and thighs with my hands.

***At this point I had an erection again so I decided to play down the details of our sexual activities as I went back to my fantasy.***

We have oral sex as well as intercourse and, before we go to sleep, I have three ejaculations, more than I've had in a single sex session for at least eight years. Melissa is still passive when on her back, but she gets on top during our love-making and is quite active in this position. With a little help from me, holding her hips and helping her raise and lower them, she causes me to ejaculate. Although I still can't tell for sure I believe she has had several orgasms too based on her facial expressions. Like Joan, she does not have strong verbal climaxes. 

Finally I call the office to leave a wake-up call for 5:45 am (It's already nearly 2). "Why so early," Melissa asks. "Because you're like Chinese food and I'll be hungry again in the morning." She smiles and kisses me good night. She turns her ass to me and we spoon, but I have to separate in a couple of minutes because the contact gives me a hard-on again. She turns toward me. "You really are a sexaholic, aren't you?"

"What can I say, guilty as charged."

WEDNESDAY

It seems that I've just closed my eyes when the phone rings with our wake-up call. Melissa and I each use the toilet, then settle in for one more love making session before we get up and shower together and go to her house.

Her parent's attitude is completely different. They greet me warmly and ask if I want some breakfast. "Just some juice and coffee, and maybe a slice of toast," I say. Melissa's father leaves to go to work but I join her mother at the table while Melissa is upstairs changing clothes and coaxing Heather to get ready to go to school. In a few minutes they join us in the kitchen. Melissa leaves to take Heather to school a little before eight and I leave shortly thereafter.

When I get to the office I go to see the CEO's secretary. "Would you please tell Mr. Harvell I'd like to see him when he has some free time. Tell him I need about 10 minutes.

When I get to my desk I notice Melissa is at the desk of one of the CSRs. As she heads back to her office I stand up and motion for her to come over. When she reaches me, I say, "Turnabout is fair play." and kiss her, a real kiss like she gave me in the restaurant. Realizing what's going on, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. Just like in the restaurant, the room goes quiet as all the CSRs tell their telephone mates to wait a second. Then they start clapping and cheering. This time as we break neither of us is embarrassed, just smiling broadly.

About an hour later I get my meeting with the CEO. "This isn't about the project." I tell him. "I want to come work for you permanently."

***The flight attendants were serving dinner so I interrupted my fantasy again to eat, during which time I talked with my seat mate. Once dinner was over I went back into fantasy mode.***

I was at the part where I tell the CEO I want to work for them.

Mr. Harvell says, "But the contract with your firm has a penalty clause in it to prevent us from hiring a consultant for up to a year after the contract is completed."

"I know, but our company has never enforced that clause as long as the consultant first finishes any projects that are too far along to transfer to someone else. In fact it is well known at our company that ex-consultants make the best clients. They know when to seek help from consultants and how to use them for maximum benefit.

I think I can help you. As you are certainly aware, in your part of the industry, you are becoming an ever larger fish in an ever smaller pond. Being a privately-owned company, you may want to keep it this way, but if you're thinking of moving into another segment of the industry I can help two ways. 

First, you have at least seven people reporting directly to you. That's too many. I want to be put in charge of Finance and Administration. Then you would have just three people, the VP of Marketing, the VP of Manufacturing, and me reporting to you. This would give you more free time for planning, which is important if the company is to expand.

Then, I don't know how deep your family's pockets are but I assume the company would have to go public to finance this large an expansion. I've never been directly involved with a public offering, but with my background I could be an effective liaison with the investment bankers."

"Wow, that's a lot to digest. The board has talked a little about whether or not to expand but we haven't made any decision. Tell me Bob, why do you want to do this?"

"I have a couple of reasons. I get along well with everyone here and I think I would fit in well. I know I can help you as I've just outlined AND I've fallen in love with one of your employees, and even though I could take her to Atlanta, she has a good support system here and would probably be more at ease if we could stay here. Of course, if you don't want to expand, hiring me makes no sense."

"Who's the girl, and I thought you were married!"

"Well, that's the negative. Melissa in customer service is the girl and we're getting married regardless, but I do have to divorce my current wife. She's a fine person but our personal relationship has been sour for quite some time.

"Melissa, huh! Well, she sure is a cute one! Tell me, what would you want if we hire you?"

"Right now my salary is $36,000 plus an annual bonus, but I expect to be promoted to Principal at the end of the year. Then I'll get about $50,000 plus a company car, and some other perks like profit-sharing. So I want at least $50,000 and a car. I'd also like some vacation time right from the start, and, until I get my own place, I'd like to stay at the hotel for free."

"I thought you couldn't stand the hotel."

"I can't, and I know it's not part of the business, but I'd like you to put me in charge of the hotel so I can try to fix it."

"Well, as I'm sure you realize, I've got to talk with the other board members before we can make a decision. Personally, I'd love to have you, but I'm one of the ones who wants to expand, so I can see how you could help."

"I have one other request. You know my boss pretty well but I would appreciate it if you don't discuss this with him. If you decide you are interested and I accept your offer, then you can talk to him before you actually hire me. I'm sure he'll confirm what I said about the clause that bans hiring a consultant."




My Fantasy Girl Ch. 04



A couple of hours later the CEO phones me. "Bob, we have nine people on our board, seven of whom live in the area. Five of us, including Mr. Tatum, the chairman, are free tonight. Can you come join us for dinner?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay. Be at the country club at 6:30. We'll have a drink, then dinner. Be sure to concentrate on Mr. Tatum. We all get a vote, but his is the one that really counts. You know how that works, don't you?"

"Yes, I sure do! And thank you for putting this together so quickly."

"Just do a good job, selling expansion, going public, and, of course, yourself."

I call Melissa and bring her up-to-date on the possibility that I might work for the company permanently if tonight's dinner goes well. This is the first time since our first date that I'm in town and we don't eat together. I promise to call her afterward, or come over if it's not too late. "Even if you're not done until eleven, I want you to come over," she says.

The dinner goes well. It's April now, not the dead of winter, but I still get some looks when I order a gin and tonic. While we all drink a cocktail or two (just one for me) everyone introduces themselves and we have a general conversation, but once we sit down and finish ordering our meals, Mr. Tatum, who has asked me to sit beside him, totally dominates the conversation. He is older, probably close to eighty, but he's very sharp. He ran the company for nearly forty years before turning day-to-day control over to his son, Bill Harvell. Not surprisingly he is most interested in the financial side. He doesn't like the idea of going public but he likes the idea that doing so would probably make him a much wealthier man.

By 9:30 we are done with dinner and an after dinner drink. Mr. Tatum faces me and says, "If you don't mind Bob, I'd like you to leave so we can discuss this among ourselves. We will definitely make you an offer." Everyone is nodding in agreement. "We just need to decide how we will define your responsibilities and shape the offer."

"Thank you very much," I tell him, then I say good night to everyone, shake hands all around and leave. As I walk away, I notice Bill Harvell is beaming.

I rush over to Melissa's house to give her and her parents the good news. I don't tell them all the details but I emphasize that they are going to make me an offer, and since I've already told them my minimum acceptable salary, the offer is almost bound to be one I will take.

After some general conversation, Melissa tells her parents she wants to sleep over with me again and we'll see them at 7am. We head for the motor lodge and I agree to Melissa's request for a shorter sex session than we had last night. Tonight it's mostly cuddling and telling each other how great our life together will be.

***The plane has landed at Hartwell so I went out of fantasy mode again until I was in my Fiat 124 Spyder. It was a pleasant night so I put the top down and made my way to I-75 for the run through downtown Atlanta to Dunwoody.***

THURSDAY

It is mid-morning and I'm meeting with Bill Harvell, the CEO.

He confesses that he talked with my boss at the consulting firm yesterday before contacting the other board members. "I'm sorry but I had to confirm what you told me before going out on a limb to ask the board to hire you. I think you'll be pleased with this."

He hands me a single sheet with the terms of the offer. The base salary will be $60,000 with a possibility of a bonus, my title will be Director of Finance and Administration, I'll get a four door Buick as a company car, two weeks vacation the first year, and unlimited room-and-board at the hotel for as long as I want it, to include Melissa's meals when she's with me. There is to be a six-month trial period. If that goes well, the position will be made permanent and I will be promoted to vice president and given a significant raise after one year.

I'm very pleased and accept on the spot. "I expect to be back on Monday or Tuesday, at which time I'll move into the hotel. Naturally, I'll be splitting my time at first between my consulting responsibilities and the job here. You will still have to pay consulting fees on the time I spend on my current project, but that's almost over. I've got one other project I'll need to finish. It will take about a third of my time over the next two months. I can keep my time records like I do now so you pay me for just the time I spend at my job."

We discuss some more details of my transition from consultant to employee, then I go to Melissa's office. "I'm definitely coming to work here permanently. We'll be able to stay right here."

"Oh, Bob, how wonderful!"

"Don't say anything to anyone yet. Mr. Harvell will announce it next week. Also, tell Melanie you won't have lunch with her today. I'll get you at noon."

During lunchtime, I take Melissa to the local jewelry store to shop for an engagement ring. 

***I exited I-285, just a mile and a half from my house. I decided this is a good place to end my fantasy, which has occupied nearly seven hours. It was all a pleasant thought even though I knew most of it would probably not happen. 

One thing I did expect is that Melissa would say yes when I proposed a long term relationship, and that was the most important part.***



My Fantasy Girl Ch. 05



I approached my neighborhood I began to think of some of the negatives related to the decisions I had made. If Melissa and I wound up in Pennsylvania I would have little face-to-face contact with my kids. I was sure they were mature enough to handle the ramifications of their parents' divorce but I would have less impact on their future development. If we wound up in Atlanta I would have more contact with my kids but life would be tougher on Melissa. My co-workers all knew and liked Joan; it would be difficult for Melissa to be accepted.

And then there was our house, which would go to Joan. I would probably be able to afford a more expensive house some day but I doubted I'd ever have one I liked as much. It was a split level house, with a fourth level, a true cellar which the builder added at our request. It had four bedrooms on the top level including our master bedroom; the main level had a formal living room, a formal dining room and a large kitchen which overlooked the family room on the lower level. The lower level also had a playroom with a built-in wet bar and a pool table for which the builder located a ceiling light in the exact center of where the table would be placed. We put a table tennis table in the cellar, and I built some racks for wine storage. The temperature there was always between 60 and 65 degrees, perfect for wine storage.

Being the first ones in a new neighborhood, we chose the highest lot on a cul-de-sac. Even though our house had a lower profile than the two-story houses which were built after ours, our roof line was even with or above the others, creating a very pleasing look as one rode toward the cul-de-sac, what the realtors call curb appeal.

I thought about all this as I approached the house. It was about 8:30 on a Friday evening but I could see only one light on in our house, in the bedroom of one of the kids. Normally, they and some of their friends would be playing pool in the playroom, which faced the front of the house, right below the master bedroom. Both of these rooms were dark as was the living room which also faced the front.

I drove up the driveway on the far side of the house, then turned into the two-car carport. This was the only feature of the house I didn't like. I would have preferred a garage but, even if we had modified the plan for a garage, it would have still been necessary to walk about ten feet on an exposed walkway to reach the enclosed back porch, which was behind the kitchen. This short walk was no fun during heavy rain storms.

I made my way through the porch to the back door, suitcase in one hand, attaché case in the other, and my raincoat draped over my shoulder. As one enters through this door, all the kitchen appliances are to the right, the casual dining table, where we ate virtually all our meals, is to the left and further to the left is the look-thru to the family room.

On this night the only light on in the kitchen or the family room was the little light in the vent above the cooktop. And right in front of me in the near-darkness was this beautiful creature!

I put my cases down and dropped the raincoat over one of the chairs.

"You're all dressed up. Were you just out, or were we supposed to go out?"

"No. Can't a woman dress up just for her husband?"

"Well, of course! And you look very good, but where are the kids?"

"They're in their bedrooms. I told them not to come out."

Joan looked beautiful. Her hair was shoulder length in soft cascading curls, she was wearing lipstick and light makeup on her face, and I could tell she had perfume on, Chanel No. 5. She had on one of several silk blouses she owned, a translucent white shade which just enabled you to make out the lines of her bra if you looked hard or she put her shoulders back. Her skirt was a slim, black number which ended about three inches above her knees. Neither the blouse nor the skirt was new, but I hadn't seen her wear them in at least two years.

What's happened? How long has it been since I've looked at her? She couldn't have lost so much weight or grown out her hair in just a few days!

I know all this happened in just a couple of seconds, but I felt as if everything was occurring in slow motion. She was moving toward me, putting her arms around my neck, kissing me, extending her tongue into my mouth. She never kisses like this right out of the blue.



My penis, which obviously has a mind of its own, was getting hard, and she knew it as she pressed her body against me. Somehow, one of my hands found a resting place on her ass, which felt pretty good. It's not a teenager's ass like Melissa has, but it is firm, not the ass she had the last time I felt it.

"Let's go upstairs," she said as she disengaged her mouth from mine and took my hand.

The thought of taking my hand away, of saying no, of telling her I had made a decision just that day to leave her -- none of these entered my mind. It also did not occur to me that making love to Joan would somehow be cheating on Melissa, since I had just made a total commitment to her.

Was I weak? Would I have gone up those steps with any reasonably decent-looking woman who wanted me? Or was this giving me the opportunity to rescind a hard decision I had made and replace it with the easy out of the status quo?

I don't know, even now. What I do know is that I went willingly. Joan and I made love to one another for the first time in about a year.

We had sex several times over the weekend. It was not much different from what it had been in the past, but it was better simply knowing Joan really wanted it, as opposed to doing it occasionally just to verify that I still desired her, which was the feeling I often had in the past. She really does still love me!

On Sunday afternoon, away from the kids, she said, "Bob, I don't know what's wrong, but I know that something is seriously wrong. I want to see a counselor; I hope you'll go with me but, with or without you, I'm going. I've gotten information on three different people." With that, she handed me three sheets of paper. "The first is a minister who specializes in family counseling, the second is a private family counselor, not affiliated with any religion, and the third is a regular psychiatrist, not a family counselor, though marriage problems are a large part of his practice."

I looked over the resumes of the three counselors. "I'll go with you," I said, "but only to the regular psychiatrist."

"I knew you'd say that. I've already made an appointment for Monday. I hope you'll stay home and go with me."

ME AND MY THERAPIST

Monday morning rolled around and nothing was as I had planned it. Instead of talking with my friend in the office I was talking with a psychiatrist. Instead of planning to divorce Joan and firm up my relationship with Melissa, I was thinking of firming up my relationship with Joan. I was in a quandary; two women were in love with me and I felt as if I was in love with both of them, an impossibility by my own definition.

Dr. Rogers (not his real name in case he still has an active practice) saw Joan and me together for about twenty minutes, then said he wanted to talk with us separately, Joan first. When they finished, he asked me to come into his office again.

I had barely sat down when he started in. "Alright, Bob. Don't try to bullshit me! You're having an affair and you're driving Joan crazy because she has no idea you're cheating on her."

I'm sure my mouth was gaping open but he wasn't waiting for a response. "Now you have two choices and I can work with you and Joan regardless of which way you go. But you have to make your decision now. If you want to stay with Joan, you must confess to her and ask her forgiveness, which I'm sure she will give you. If you want to go to the other woman, you must move out immediately, deny everything, and start divorce proceedings."

I guess he could have been bluffing in concluding so rapidly that I was having an affair, but I didn't think so. I guessed that something in my body language gave me away when analyzed by an expert.

"Do I have to make my decision immediately?" In saying these words I confirmed his analysis.

"There's no reason for you to wait. If you think about it, you already know the answer."

I was numb; my brain was in a whirl. This isn't my style. I'm a deliberate thinker who likes to examine all sides of an issue before making a decision. He's insisting I make one of the most important personal decisions of my life immediately.



Before this weekend this would have been an easy decision. But now I just don't know. I think both women are in love with me so it's my choice. If I give up Joan I also give up my life style, a seventeen year history, and my children for the most part. If I give up Melissa I give up the physical embodiment of the image I've carried with me all my life. I know what to expect if I stay with Joan but, although I know a lot about Melissa, she is still a question mark in many ways. Is that the choice? Is there more to it that I'm missing? After all, if I hadn't thought Joan no longer loved me, I never would have started with Melissa. Perhaps I can try to repair things with Joan AND continue seeing Melissa, putting off the final decision. Of course, if I go to Melissa after confessing to Joan, the divorce will be ugly.



It was probably the fact that I'm pretty conservative and that I hated confrontation but sticking with what I knew won out over entering the unknown.

"I want to stay with Joan."

Dr. Rogers showed no emotion, no indication that he approved or disapproved of my decision. "Pick a time you won't be interrupted; then tell Joan, beg her forgiveness, and answer any questions she has. I'm sure she'll have some. If you have any photos or other memorabilia you must turn them over to Joan so she can destroy them."

Joan and I made appointments for our next visits which would be as individuals, then we left.

RELATIONSHIPS COME, RELATIONSHIPS GO



Joan was shell-shocked when I told her I had an affair. As Dr. Rogers said, she had a lot of questions, everything from what's her name and how tall is she (Joan knew me very well) to the biggie, WHY?

We talked for several hours, during which time I got in some of the reasons why: the lack of sex, her always being all covered up, her emphasis on the children and not on me, her unwillingness to improve her appearance, although she now looked great. She admitted she didn't exercise or diet, but she had had very little appetite for the last several months; worrying had taken off the weight. As for her hair, she said she had let it grow out since Christmas. I just hadn't noticed.

I went into the office Tuesday and called Melissa at noon. I didn't want to tell her everything but I could not bring myself to tell her nothing, not on such an important matter.

"I've had to change my schedule so I'm not coming up this week. I'm leaving for Canada this evening and will be there the rest of the week. The way it looks I won't be back up there for several weeks.

Something happened this weekend I need to tell you about. Joan was waiting for me when I got home. She said she knew something was wrong and she wanted to try to fix it. She said she loved me, the first time she has said that in a year."

After a long pause, "Did you have sex with her?"

"Yes, I did." I could hear her sigh. I'm losing her. I shouldn't have said anything, especially since I won't see her for several weeks.

"Melissa, this doesn't change the fact that I love you. I'm just very confused. A few months ago, I felt sorry for myself because I didn't think anyone loved me. Now I have two women in love with me."

Another sigh; I could almost see the pain on her face.

"It's time for me to go eat lunch with Melanie. I'll talk with you later." Melissa sounded so sad as she said this, and now I felt really bad. Why had I said all this to her and why had I let that doctor force me to choose immediately. I was beginning to believe that Melissa was lost for good.

I left for Canada and didn't talk with Melissa for the rest of the week. I couldn't call her at noon and I didn't want to call in the evening when her parents would be right there.

The next time I went to Pennsylvania was the last week of April. I had talked with Melissa several times, but our conversations became increasingly labored and I was not able to lighten them. Finally, she said we should not see each other but I convinced her to wait until I was there and we could talk face-to-face.

I was pretty sure I had lost Melissa but there was something I wanted to say to her, even if she was gone for good. When I got to the airport for my early-bird flight I went to the gift shop and bought a small bottle of cologne. I picked out a southern scent, jasmine. I wanted to tell Melissa I knew she was tough enough to handle her problems, but I wanted her to remember she also had a soft, feminine side equal to any southern belle, and that is what she showed me throughout our time together. This gift was to remind her of her femininity. I also wanted to tell her I wanted to go on seeing her, with or without sex, while we considered our future.

When I got to my desk, it soon became obvious that things had changed. For starters, Melissa looked up at me briefly but she didn't smile. She kept her face down when she was at her desk like she did when I first saw her, and when she went to a CSR's desk she did not smile or talk with them. Finally, she was wearing jeans, the first time since our first date when I told her a dress was more feminine, and preferred on a date, that she had not worn a dress or skirt when I was there. She was making a statement that I was no longer special in her life.

I talked with her briefly at noon, finally convincing her to come to my room at 7pm to talk, no date, just a conversation. I told her I had a small gift for her.

I stayed at my desk until about 6:30 but I wasn't able to accomplish much because I was so on edge. Finally, I went to my room and opened the front drapes so I could see when she pulled up. By 7:15 I was beginning to wonder if she was going to show, and that's when she arrived. She parked at the street rather than driving up to the door of my room and when she got out I saw that she had two friends with her. They stayed in the car but their presence was a gigantic negative to me. She has no intention of giving me a chance to have a meaningful conversation with her. Does she have a posse with her for protection in case I get physical. She should know better than that -- I would never hurt her physically. I was very upset at the turn of events.

I opened the door as she approached. "I'm sorry you brought others with you. You aren't really going to give me a chance, are you?"

"You said you had a gift for me." Her tone was frigid.

"I had a little spiel I wanted to say as I gave this to you, but I can see it's no use." With that I handed her the little box.

She opened it and saw what it was. "Jasmine! You really don't know me at all!"

"Yes, I do, but you're not willing to listen to me so you may as well go." And, that quickly, she left.

I couldn't eat. I just sat in my room feeling sorry for myself. I had really screwed things up. Finally I decided I would try talking with her at noon tomorrow.

The next day I went in about ten minutes late, like I always did. As I entered the customer service area, James Easterly, the manager, was waiting for me. Most of the CSRs were watching us. The nosy one was looking back and forth between us and Melissa's office.

"Hold up, Bob. Don't go back to your desk. Melissa complained to me that you've been harassing her."

"What? No, we've been dating; I'm in love with her!" I don't know why I said that. There was no use dragging someone else into our drama. Now I understood James' comment way back at his party when he cautioned the salesmen not to mess with Melissa. She could be tough and mean.

"Well, I don't know anything about your relationship with her but we cannot have a sexual harassment suit, so you have to find some other place to do your work. I've got the things from your desk here." He gave me a small box with the papers and supplies I kept in the desk.

I tried to call Melissa later, twice, but she hung up on me both times as soon as she recognized my voice. And that was the end of our affair. I had lost my living doll!

I looked at the month-at-a-glance booklet I carried with me on which I kept track of my schedule. Reviewing the past several months, I could tell that I saw Melissa nineteen times outside the office, including last night's debacle. We made love on fourteen of those nights. How could I have fallen in love so quickly and how could it hurt so much to lose someone after such a short romance?

I only saw Melissa twice more and both of those occasions were painful.

The first of these was during final implementation of my project the third week of May. I planned to be there all week to help shepherd the changeover. Joan told me she wanted to go with me. I'm sure she discussed it with the therapist first and got his concurrence that seeing Melissa would somehow help her.

Her mother, who did not know what was going on, came up from Florida to stay with the kids. Joan and I drove up on Sunday to the Holiday Inn, the site of my first date with Melissa. Joan stayed at the motel Monday to relax, lying out by the pool.   

Tuesday morning she rode in with me. She looked great, wearing a light weight sweater and a fitted skirt which showed off her now slim figure. I introduced her to the managers and the secretaries as we made the rounds of the various departments. Finally we reached customer service. We turned into James Easterly's office and I looked out at the CSRs as he and Joan were talking. I concentrated on the nosy one who, as soon as she saw Joan, looked over toward Melissa. After Joan and James finished talking we headed for Melissa's office as everyone followed us with their eyes.

"Hello, Melissa. I'd like you to meet my wife, Joan." Melissa was at her desk with her head down. She just barely looked up as she mumbled a hello. Joan said, "Hello, Melissa. It's so nice to meet you." I felt that saying "it's so nice to meet you" was being excessively mean because Joan's tone made her true feelings rather obvious. Meanwhile, I stood there feeling very sorry for Melissa but, in some perverse way, I also felt very proud. Here I was, the kid who couldn't even get a date in high school, with these two very attractive women that I had made love to.

When we got out in the hallway, Joan said, "She's not very good looking, Bob. You could certainly do better."

"Don't say that; you know it's not true." Joan's comment really bothered me. She was showing an uncharacteristic mean streak. "I'm with you for good. You don't have to be cruel."

I tried to call Melissa later that day to apologize for her having to go through that confrontation with Joan but she hung up on me before I had a chance to say anything.

Joan stayed at the Holiday Inn the rest of the week. Her desire to see her adversary had been satisfied.

A few weeks later, I went back to Pennsylvania for a follow-up visit and to turn in my final report. The conference room was being used one day so I wound up in the basement next to the rest rooms, where some old desks were stored. I was at one of the desks, having just come back from a meeting, when Melissa came out of the woman's room. I quickly stood and positioned myself between her and the steps leading up to the offices.

"Melissa, please let me talk to you."

"No, Bob. Just let me by."

"I know I've hurt you, but let me explain."




My Fantasy Girl Ch. 05



"You've always been a gentleman. Now be one now and let me by!"

She had me. I stepped aside to let her go up the steps. She was wearing a mustard-yellow skirt, made of a soft fabric, perhaps a felt, and a matching vest. The skirt was as short as the black one she had worn during the winter. I thought of how ironic it was that my last view of her was nearly the same as my first. Once again, as she went up the stairs, I could not help but wonder why I couldn't see her ass.

*

Author's Note: My affair with Melissa was over but my story is not. An epilogue will follow.



My Fantasy Girl Ch. 06



Joan and I continued to see the psychiatrist for about six months. We had individual counseling for several weeks followed by group therapy. Joan was in a woman's group and I was in a man's group, then ultimately we were put together in a couple's group.

Early on, I came up with an analogy which I thought explained my situation very well. Dr. Rogers had me repeat it as I entered each group. I was embarrassed to say it in front of Joan because it was insulting to her, but it was how I felt.

I've always liked analogies. A good one enables you to see a complex situation in simple terms. My analogy went like this: "I love steak. It's my absolutely favorite food. I also like chicken very much, almost as much as steak. Now if you tell me I can have steak every day, but that's all I get, no baked potato with sour cream, no salad, no wine with my steak; but on the other hand I can have chicken every day and with it I get potatoes and a vegetable, a salad if I want it, a nice wine with my meal, and even dessert if I so desire, then I would have to go for the chicken."

And that's what I did; I went for the chicken! When I told this analogy I got lambasted. Of course the therapist said nothing when I first told him, but the group members (both groups) thought it was terrible. For Joan it confirmed that if it had been a one-on-one contest I would have chosen Melissa. But I think she already sensed that. Isn't this reluctance to give up one's life style a primary reason why a spouse who has an affair (not just cheating, but a true affair like I felt I'd had) usually stays married?

Dr. Rogers had a profound effect on Joan. At our first meeting he asked each of us, separately, to describe a negative characteristic of our spouse in a single word. I said Joan was stoic, i.e.-very stiff, inflexible. Of course I don't know what word Joan used, but I suspect it was self-centered, since she felt every consultant in our company was conceited. She used to say that she could pick out the consultants in a group after a five minute conversation.

Under Dr. Rogers' guidance, she made a sincere effort to change. She bought the book, "The Joys of Sex" and later "More Joys of Sex". We went through them, trying many of the ideas. As for me, I did not enjoy eating messy food off her body but I did enjoy titty-fucking, especially since she would kiss and lick the head of my penis on each upstroke. We tried ass-fucking but neither one of us enjoyed it. We also tried a variety of positions but we could not do anything that required more that a minute or two of physical effort by Joan.

We also started going to a movie theater that showed soft core porn one night each week (there was no hard core theater anywhere near us and the VCR was not available yet). Joan would dress sexy, short skirts, though not minis, and fitted sweaters with no bra. We would sit there and play with one another. We never went any further in the theater, but one night we were so excited as we left we had sex in the parking lot in my Fiat, no small feat.

I bought her some sexy clothes too, and I took some pictures of her with our Polaroid camera for my eyes only. My favorite of the clothes I bought was an ankle length, body-hugging, bright red halter dress. It was bare to the waist in the back, so she couldn't wear a bra with it, and it was so fitted that any underwear she tried on made it look bad because you would see lines. It wasn't obscene, just classy-sexy. So she wore it with nothing underneath, something she had never done in her life. The first time she wore it, we went to a dinner theater which had a buffet meal before the play began. We had never attracted much attention on our previous times there but tonight everyone enjoyed looking at Joan. I was very proud of her, and during the play I couldn't keep my hands off her. Even the cast members complimented her as we went through their receiving line at the end of the night. 

We also had some bad experiences. Some times, I felt so wracked with guilt I could not get an erection, the only times in my life I ever had that problem (Even today, at 74, I can will an erection any time I wish to). 

I do not believe therapy had as much effect on me as on Joan. However, I did become a little more considerate and I took Joan out frequently, especially on weekends after I'd been out of town all week. Of course part of this was due to how attractive she looked. We even got into disco-dancing when it became popular. I was still a poor dancer but I enjoyed all the turns and spins I put Joan through, and the admiring glances she got as we danced.

I reached three conclusions about my life in the future. For one, Joan and I really would be together "until death do us part". Since I hadn't left her for Melissa, whom I truly loved, I could not imagine leaving under any circumstances. And I knew she would not leave me, no matter what I did, within reason. Secondly, I knew I would not remain faithful to her, but from now on I would be careful to not fall in love. Finally, I knew that if Joan died before I did, I would seek out Melissa and attempt to reconnect. This last one did not happen; we both are still in very good health.

Even before I started dating Melissa I decided to get in shape. There was a 10K race in Atlanta on July 4th each year known as the Peachtree Road Race. In 1974 there were over 6000 participants, several of whom were in my company (they now have over 25,000 runners each year). I decided that when the weather broke in late February or early March I would start jogging with the goal of running in the 1975 race. I also started doing some sit-ups and push-ups.

I had no doubt that I would be successful as I had the utmost confidence that I could accomplish anything that was totally within my control.

A specific event that occurred between my junior and senior years of high school caused me to stop using foul language immediately. Since then, I've used an occasional hell or damn for emphasis but nothing worse. Even writing some of the words in this story has been very uncomfortable for me but I felt they were necessary for the story.

I also gave up smoking, cold turkey, from a two and a half pack a day habit when I was 27 years old.

So I saw reaching my goals of improving my health and enabling me to eat as much as I wanted without getting fat as an easy task. I soon gave up on push-ups (I had two broken wrists when I was young), but I worked my way up to 300 sit-ups per night. By the time of the Peachtree Road Race I was down to 140, the proper weight for my size, and I had no flab around my middle. I participated in many 10K runs over the next fifteen years before I quit jogging in 1990 when my knees and ankles started bothering me. By that time my metabolism was permanently higher and I'm still 140 pounds today, albeit with an extra two inches on my waistline.

Unfortunately, Joan did not keep her great figure. Once things settled down between us and she stopped worrying about our relationship she started gaining weight again. The pounds went on slowly but surely. I could not get her to exercise no matter how I approached the subject. I finally gave up trying and our sex life slowed, then eventually stopped completely.

Within a year or so after the end of my affair with Melissa, while Joan still had a great figure, I knew I had made the wrong decision, but I felt there was no going back. If there's any lesson to be learned from my experience, it's that the brain should not always be the main organ for making decisions. In matters of the heart, the heart should be primary. I now knew I should have taken the ala carte steak over the full course chicken dinner.

As I turned 40 I looked better than ever with my trim shape and good clothes that fit well. I did not suddenly become a Lothario or a Don Juan but I noticed that some women did actually look me over. Usually the ones who were pretty open about it did not appeal to me, and the attractive ones at the clubs continued to ignore me, but I did have a few short-lived affairs over the next six years.

MY FANTASY GIRL

I never thought of Melissa as my fantasy girl. She was a living doll as many others described her and I liked to address her as Melissa melove when we were together. As I've stated previously, she was the physical embodiment of the image I carried in my head, but the expression, fantasy girl, just never came to my mind -- until the early eighties.

I left the consulting company in 1978 and by 1980 I was working for a manufacturing company as a division controller. My office was a hundred miles from the corporate computer center which necessitated frequent trips back and forth. Sometimes I returned home the same day but usually I had to be there two or three days in a row so I stayed overnight.

The receptionist there was a very flirtatious woman in her mid-thirties. I never gave her a second thought because half the guys in the building were literally drooling over her. She was about five foot two, had an attractive face, and a body to kill for. I had been with the company about two years when, as I entered the building one morning, she asked where I had eaten dinner the night before.

"A few of us went into Charlotte to a Mexican restaurant that was really good."

"Oh, I love Mexican food, and I love Margaritas too. Will you take me sometime?" With that comment and the way she smiled and batted her eyes at me, I was a goner.

Our affair lasted over two and a half years, and only ended because I lost my job when the company was absorbed into another corporation. It was the first sexually-fulfilling experience I ever had. She was not into anything very kinky, but she enjoyed variety, in positions and in activities. She was also the first woman I went with who truly turned heads wherever she went, not just because she was attractive but because she exuded sensuality from every pore. It was not unusual for everyone in a restaurant, male and female, to quit eating and watch her as we were seated. I'm sure many of these people thought I must be rich to be with a babe like her.

Joan (yes, her name was the same as my wife's) said she was 34B-22-35, but I knew her breasts were larger than that, a full C cup at least. She played them down because she knew I liked petite women, and that I was a leg and butt man. 

You can't see someone for a couple of years and not love her. Joan and I definitely loved each other, but in a very convenient fashion. We were both married and had no intention of leaving our spouses, so we had the ideal affair, with enjoying each other as our only goal. 

She was also the first truly emotional woman I was ever involved with. She suffered from PMS so at certain times of the month she was almost unbearable. It was during one of these times that she said, "I'm not at all jealous of your wife. She has her part of your life and I have mine, and I'm very happy with my part, thank you, but I am jealous of the girl in Pennsylvania because I can't compete with her. Everyone but you says I'm petite, but I'm not petite enough for you. I've got a great figure but I can never be slim enough or short enough to compete with her, but that's because she's not real, she's a fantasy! No one can compete with a fantasy! She's your fantasy girl!"

That was it! Joan was right! Melissa is my fantasy girl!!! 

AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER

With a nod to Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, I think their movie title from the fifties is most appropriate to describe my situation.

When I was out of work in 1984, my age and salary level worked against me. After many frustrating months searching for a job I went into business for myself. Although it survived, my business was never truly successful.

In 1988 it was on the edge of bankruptcy. Unlike a large corporation, a small business owner must personally guarantee virtually all the credit given to the business, even when the business is structured as a corporation, as mine was. I was under tremendous pressure. The company's debts might take everything we owned.

Only once before in my life had I felt a great deal of pressure. On that occasion in 1972 I had the hiccups for twenty-eight consecutive days. Even in bed at night I hiccuped continuously, often shaking the bed to the point Joan had to go somewhere else to sleep. When I finally would fall asleep at three or four in the morning I was still hiccuping in my sleep. Eventually I overcame the problem and the hiccups stopped immediately.

I did not hiccup in 1988 but I couldn't sleep. I would go for days with no more than an hour or two each night. Again, I often drove Joan from the bed with my tossing and turning.

I tried lots of things, unsuccessfully, including trying to concentrate on something else to block out my thoughts of the business. Then, one night, quite accidentally, I thought of Melissa. I thought of the pleasure of our first date and of her smile the next morning, and I fell asleep. After that, I started thinking of her every night when I went to bed. Naturally, I had to avoid thinking about how we broke up as that would only upset me and I wouldn't be able to sleep. And I seldom thought for long about the sex as it just wasn't that good. But visualizing her sitting across from me in a restaurant or of holding her and kissing her, with or without clothes on, always made me feel good no matter what business pressure I was under. Most nights I would eventually go back to the view of her fantastic smile as she sat at her desk looking out her window at me the morning after our first date. That was the image that best enabled me to fall asleep.

By the time the pressure had eased up, thinking of Melissa when I went to bed had become a habit, quickly turning into an obsession. I've done it for practically every night since then, for the last twenty-two years. Now that's an affair that's been remembered! 

Melissa married again three years after our affair, and she had a second daughter. This shocked me because she had told me she couldn't have children. Apparently, she simply meant she was on the pill.

I hope Melissa reads this story as I doubt that we'll ever meet again so I will never get the chance to tell it to her in person.

If you do read this Melissa, look at the words of Whitney Houston's extremely sentimental song, "I will always love you", which she sang in the movie, The Bodyguard. It says exactly what my feelings for you have been since the day our affair ended.

With love to my fantasy girl, Bob.