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Stumped!

By: l8bloom



Thanks to Unsung Muse for the challenge of writing this story!

*

"Caroline! ... Caroline, wait!"

The last thing I wanted to do was wait. My cheeks were burning bright red and I knew I was going to cry. All I wanted to do was get out of there.

But my lawyer — who was also my friend — deserved at least a little courtesy, so I stopped. I held my eyes tightly shut and clenched my jaw, holding back the tears. His footsteps echoed toward me down the long marble hall. The halls of justice, I thought bitterly. So much for that.

Stanley made the mistake of touching my arm as he caught up. My stare was violent enough to make him let go.

"I just wanted to tell you, I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"Thanks, I just don't want to talk right now, I'll call you later," my words came out in a rush.

He nodded. His firm blue eyes weren't wet like mine, but he was sorry. I knew it. I left behind the image of his pale balding head, his little salt and pepper moustache that always made me think of a jack russell terrier. He wasn't a classically attractive man. But he was a darn nice guy, and as far as I knew, a good husband and father.

I flounced down the courtroom steps, a bit less energetically than I might have before Stanley put a speed bump in my anger. I took refuge on a park bench, not giving a damn that it was 25°, and sat down to let the tears come. Douglas. Why?

In all honesty I did not know why. Ten years of marriage, tossed. Because he wanted to sleep around? Uh uh. So he claimed, but there had to be another reason. What had I done or not done? What had he failed to find in me when I had given all that I had, all who I am?

The questions quit gnawing and gave way to pure pain. I sat there drowning in tears. Passersby politely ignored me: a woman who might be pretty when she wasn't red-faced and sobbing. I found a tissue in the pocket of my long wool coat and stabbed at the end of my nose.

Eventually the tears slowed to a lazy creek instead of a rushing river. I was about out of tissues and that meant, pretty soon, I'd have to go "home." The thought of doing so put my emotions on spin cycle, so I pushed the thought away and just stared, only partly seeing the big open square in front of me.

The square wasn't what it once was. As little as eighteen months ago, elm trees danced to the fountain's music. But the fountain was turned off now because of the cold; and where there used to be beautiful elms, now there were stumps. An infestation of elm borers had left the city with no choice but to amputate.

Pigeons fluttered around in their revised three-dimensional territory. I wondered when it would get too cold for them to fly. I found a little packet of oyster crackers in my pocket. In the twisted logic of the newly divorced, it seemed like they were more deserving than me, so I tore open the plastic and began doling out the last bits of what I had to give. With a rueful thought, I realized that was just how I felt about my marriage: this was it. There just wasn't any more. I was down to my last emotional crumbs.

They ate the crumbs without any thought.

One of the birds seemed to be looking at me. He didn't come too close, but neither did he retreat. What did he want? I showed him the empty cracker packet. "There isn't any more." I shoved the wrapper into my pocket, but he stayed, as if to abide with me.

I sighed. Personifying birds was ridiculous. I knew I was just trying to avoid the inevitable, and was about to trudge toward my little Toyota, when a man had the nerve to sit down beside me.

"Nice day," he observed, not looking at me.

Since he obviously just wanted to pick me up, I made a rude face. My expression said Are you nuts?! But my voice didn't say anything.

As if sensing my thought, he smiled. "I guess it is on the chilly side." He turned to me and I quickly wiped the childish look off my face. I still didn't say anything, though, because he was handsome, and that pissed me off. Great, just what I need. Not only a guy on the make, a good-looking guy on the make. I knew all about the pretty ones; my husband—ex-husband, I corrected myself—was one. Women flocked to them so easily, they basically expected every female to bow and simper. "Oh, you're so gorgeous! [Squeal.] Can I get you anything? Want to fuck me?"

Not me. I had less than zero interest. I started searching for my car keys as he said, "Name's Hank."

"Hi." Couldn't he see I'd been crying? This was not a good time!

I found my keys and stood up. "See you later." My tone was as cold as the hollow fountain. I tossed my oversized leather bag over my shoulder and strode off, my knee-high boots making fresh prints in the crusty snow. My car was in the garage across the street.

At that point it struck me that I'd sure look like an ass if my car wouldn't start, and Hank was the one I wound up asking for help. The old words circled in my head: "Make your words as sweet as honey, for you may have to eat them."

For the second time that day, I hesitated. My lips firmed. I really had no interest in this guy other than to apologize for being rude. That was it, that was all.

Focused on this thought, I turned around and went back across the street. Hank watched me, a look of mild curiosity shading his tanned features. I couldn't keep my eyes on his.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry I was rude. I'm having a really bad day."

"Thanks. That was why I sat down. I could see you were having a tough time of it and I thought maybe a bit of human company might help. You know," his grin was somewhat embarrassed, "just someone to tell your troubles to."

He offered me his card. I studied it for a moment and slipped it into my pocket, along with the snotty tissues that were probably starting to freeze.

I held out my gloved hand, and he shook it. "Caroline."

"Nice to meet you."

"I, uh, have to get going." I thought of the house and the packing that had to be done. "See you later."

Having discharged my social obligation, I made my way back across the street, again stepping awkwardly to avoid the greasy slush. Thank god for tall boots. I hate those short ones where one misstep can let the icy nasty stuff slide down your ankle, and then you have to deal with wet-sock all day. Ick.

My trusty little Toyota started just fine, thank you, and heat surged out of the vents within a few minutes. My breath stopped making clouds in front of my face. I relaxed a little.

Hank waved, and I gave him a nod, as I left the garage and drove away.

* * *

Ten months later my friend Babette might have been a tad bit angry with me. I couldn't really tell.

"Come on, Caroline, you're going!" She put her hands on her hips in exasperation. Was she really ticked, or not?

I shook my head. "I just don't think I'm ready."

"Okay, then, we'll do this the hard way." Babette took the hem of my sweater in her hands and pulled it up, exposing my ribs.

"Hey!" I laughed.

"Play Superman," she directed sweetly. This was probably the same tone of voice she used with her four-year-old son. Almost automatically I lifted my arms. Her eyes focused on my waistline.

"You're lookin' hot, babe. Don't make me push you down and take off your pants."

Turning a faint pink, I undid the zipper myself. Apparently I was going to the party. "Can I at least wear my ordinary underwear?"

"Hmmm..." my friend looked me up and down. "Absolutely not. The St. Pauli Girl does not expose her bra straps."

We hunted through my lingerie drawer until we found the white corset. That almost got me; Douglas used to love seeing me wear that. He enjoyed taking it off, too.

My friend didn't let me choke up. With a firm hand she steered me into the Bavarian beer wench costume, and off we went.

Just before we left, she reminded me that it was damn cold outside, and I ought to wear a coat. I hadn't yet lived a full year in my new apartment (how long until I quit calling it "new"?). All the winter stuff was still packed.

"Just a second." I hurried back to the spare bedroom, my store room, and creaked the hangers around in the closet. The first coat that came to hand was my heavy wool one, the one I put on for vicious cold.

I stopped; the last time I had worn this coat was ... the day my marriage was guillotined ... 

I told myself to cut it out. I had to let go and move on. Something else rang faintly at the back of my mind, but I refused to let those memories surface. I was going to a party, dammit, and I was going to smile and laugh and have a drink.

* * *

Stanley met us at the door as if we were Ed McMahon and his TV crew.

"Caroline! You look great!! And who is this sexy she-devil?"

"This is my friend Babette..."

"Babette the BABE! Come on in, have a drink!"

I think Stanley had already had a few. His Fu Manchu costume was pretty funny, though. He had on a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses with extremely fake-looking Chinese eyes instead of lenses. He took off the glasses to show that underneath, his make-up and eyebrows were an identical mimic! Despite my reluctance to be there in the first place, the piteous gag made me chuckle, and I relaxed a little bit.

Babette and I made our way past vampires and genies to the bar. If I had to guess, I'd say there were at least fifty people crowding my attorney's living room. Stanley is a gregarious guy. Like a happy St. Bernard, he loves people—the more, the better. 

At the bar I saw a couple who looked almost ordinary. Clearly there was something going on, though. The man wore jeans and a camouflage top. The woman had on camo pants and a black t-shirt.

"What are you supposed to be?"

The woman grinned broadly. "Upper and lower GI!"

I had to laugh. "That is sick." We introduced ourselves. It turned out the woman was a nurse and her husband was an x-ray tech. They had worn their costumes all day at work, just for the sake of getting a few cheap laughs.

Stanley's wife Linda was working the bar. She was dressed pretty much like a bartender, with a long kitchen apron hiding most of her clothes. The front of the apron read, "This is my costume." She and I had met a few times.

"What can I gitcha?"

I shrugged. "I guess, given the way I'm dressed, I'll have a beer."

Linda stroked her chin. In that instant I could see something of how her marriage worked: where Stanley was an outgoing people-lover, Linda was more of a thinker who worked behind the scenes. I could easily picture her thinking up the logistics of the entire party, while Stanley went around slapping colleagues on the back and urging people to be there.

"I have just the thing!" she announced. She rooted through some cupboards while I made the Oh, you don't have to go to any trouble noises. She ignored me like a pro and came up with a black and silver beer stein. On the side, it read:

"The wonderful love of a beautiful maid,

And the love of a staunch true man,

And the love of a baby unafraid

Have existed since life began;

But the greatest love, the love of love, 

Even greater than that of a mother, 

is the tender, passionate, infinite love 

of one drunken sot for another."

"Robert Burns!" Linda named the poet. Again I had to laugh. This party had been a good idea, after all. Linda looked so pleased with her hostess efforts that I asked her to fill up my mug. I was really starting to feel like rubbing elbows with the human race again.

Babette had disappeared at some point. I was looking around the room for her when our hosts started whacking their wine glasses with forks. The ding! ding! ding! quieted the room.

As usual, Stanley was comfortable in the spotlight. "Ladies and gentleman!" His clear baritone was a gift; he had the ability to project without yelling. Lawyer's talent, I guess.

"It's time to decide the winner of this year's Halloween costume contest." Whistles and applause greeted this announcement, along with some indistinct shouts. He explained that every contestant would get a chance to model, and if they wished, say a few words about their costume.

I sincerely hoped that I wouldn't be pressured to get up there. Going to a party is one thing, making a public fool of myself is another. I definitely wasn't interested in the latter.

It turned out I had no worries. There were plenty of contestants. The first was a man dressed completely in black with little fuzzy yellow things glued all over. I craned my neck and could see they were baby chicks.

"I'm a chick magnet!" he explained. Somebody yelled at him to go home, but he flapped a careless hand and went on having a good time. Good for him.

Next was a couple whose costume initially made no sense. The man wore love beads and frayed bell bottoms. The woman was dressed as a mime. As she pretended to walk into a fierce wind, he held up two fingers in the universal "peace" sign. The crowd noise died down as people tried to figure it out. 

Stanley intervened. "Anyone? ... Anyone?" he droned in his best impersonation of Ferris Bueller's economics teacher. A few last guesses were called, none of them correct.

"Okay!" Stanley gave the couple the cordless mike.

"We're Peace and Quiet." The crowd groaned and laughed. Maybe because P&Q got the better of them, this couple wound up winning the prize: a pair of tickets to see Wicked. All the other contestants got a packet of beer nuts.

As the laughter and applause died down, I started hunting around for Babette. She'd been on the other side of the room from me during the costume contest, but disappeared again. The main room was pretty big, and my search was fruitless. At last I went back to the bar and asked Linda.

"I think she went to the poker game."

"Poker game? You mean she left?"

"No, no." My host smiled and pointed down the hall. "First door on the left, downstairs."

Wonderingly, I followed the directions. How big could this house possibly be?

The room downstairs held a poker table and a pool table with room to spare. Nobody showed interest in the latter, but the card game looked full: Babette was surrounded by a cowboy, a vampire, Glinda the Good Witch, and Darth Vader.

The cowboy smiled when he saw me. "Relief from the bar! We're saved! Wench!!" he cried, banging his mug on the table.

"Hear! Hear!" growled Darth. The others followed suit:

"I'll have a beer."

"Red wine, please." This, from the vampire.

"Nothing for me. I'm a good little witch!"

"Whoa! I'm not here to take orders." I took an empty chair by Babette, much to the crowd's chagrin: "Awwww!"

Besides Babette, Darth was the only one I recognized. He was one of Stanley's law clerks. As I scanned the faces, one seemed faintly familiar.

"I know you..." My words to the cowboy came out slowly, as I tried to think where I had seen him before.

"Name's Hank," he drawled. "Fold."

The wonderful mood of the party receded for a moment as I remembered a particularly cold day —bawling my eyes out—the pigeons with wings impervious to ice—

"Hank." I reached across the table and shook his hand. "I'm Caroline."

He tipped his hat, as a gentleman does to a lady. "Ma'am." His eyes held a hint of a twinkle.

"Nice to see you." I smiled at him and turned to Babette. "But I'm kind of ready to go home."

"I'm not quite, yet," she protested. Apparently she was doing pretty well at the game. A nice-sized pile of chips was stacked in front of her.

The cowboy spoke up. "Ah'll be glad to give ya a ride. Ah'm headed that way m'self."

"Whah, thayunk yew, suh." I played along, batting my lashes.

Hank looked so pleased with himself. He also looked as if he were trying very hard not to show it. I could see why he wasn't much good at poker.

A series of events happened just then, like cracks appearing in a thawing ice shelf. The smile on my new friend's face was so warm and so clear, I couldn't miss the message: he thought I was pretty.

Do you have any idea how that makes a woman feel, to be looked at like that? Not the leer of someone who just wants to fuck, but the friendly greeting that says, "Hello. I like you." To be complimented, not flattered: that is what makes a woman feel sexy.

He stood and touched my arm. The warm shiver he gave me told of May, as if someone had opened a window and let in a breath of spring, and the breeze was like a soft kiss on my cheek. Did I hear birds singing? I turned, thinking we were going back upstairs, but he took my elbow with a gentle firmness.

"I'm pretty sure our coats are down here." Hank pointed down an unlit hallway.

"Okay." I smiled, ready to follow him anywhere.

We slipped down the dark hall, past doors that might have concealed anything. Did Linda have a craft room, stuffed with fabric and beads? Did Stanley have some kind of smuggled contraband from a foreign head of state? Or maybe it was the other way around...Stanley secretly enjoyed needlepoint, Linda consulted with Sheiks from Arabia. The mental image made me smile.

One door had a panel next to it. With a mischievous grin, Hank pushed several buttons at random.

"Don't do that!" My whisper was squeaky with laughter. "You'll set off an alarm!"

To our horrified astonishment, the thing chirped. Its light flicked a go-ahead green. Hank tried the aluminum bar handle. The door drifted open, silent and heavy as a freshly-oiled Mercedes.

We looked at each other with the glee of conspiratorial children, and stepped inside.

Stanley's private den was a celebration of bureaucratic hedonism. The hand-knotted custom rug hushed our footsteps in a cradle of wool and silk. A heavy bust of some philosopher topped a gleaming marble pedestal, spotlighted in a CD-sized halo. A few expensive-looking paintings looked down with a haughty gaze.

But most impressive of all was Stanley's desk. It appeared to have been carved, whole, from one tree. The thick trunk formed the base. Just where the branches would have reached skyward, some craftsman had leveled an even plane. As a consequence the desktop was an irregular oval. It was entirely magnificent.

I'm sure this was not a room where Stanley would have entertained a cowboy and a barmaid.

Far from feeling out of place, however, Hank moved around the room, flipping on lights and running his fingers over the costly objets d'art.

After staring around breathlessly for a few moments, I had the presence of mind to shut the door. There was a definite click, and I padded over to that magnificent desk. I simply couldn't take my eyes from it. Even the drawers seemed cleverly carved from the same piece of wood.

I pushed stuff out of the way—really, who uses a miniature Chinese vase to hold paper clips?—and marveled at the tree's rings. Hank stood beside me.

"This is just like that Hitchcock movie." Pleased as a child on Christmas morning, he pointed: "Here's the Louisiana purchase," and with a nod, invited me to join in the game.

"Here's the Gold Rush." My bare arm crossed over his flannel-clad one. I inched closer to my companion. The Fahrenheit from his body was kicking my own furnace into gear.

His fingers brushed against mine, pointing at another of the tree's rings. "Here is the Civil War." His chaps brushed against my crinolines. A faint scent of saddle soap greeted my nose.

Ten months of unmet need rose in me, answering the call of his divining rod. "Here's the..." I didn't know what came next in American history. I only knew that Hank and I ought to come next.

"...the..."

Hank's mouth at my throat scattered what remaining thoughts I had, like a flock of doves disrupted by a thunderbolt. His lips were smooth, even as the stubble of his beard rode roughshod against my neck. I moaned like a teenager and tilted back my head. 

He swiped at my skin with his tongue. "You taste good," he breathed in my ear. His voice was gruff with passion.


Stumped!



I turned and nibbled at his earlobe. "Hm, you're not so bad yourself."

Happily I munched at Hank's ear, enjoying his responsive groan, his hands hungrily feeling along my velveteen bodice. He was far stronger than I, yet in a giddy paradox, I knew I was turning his knees to water. I nosed around at the nape of his neck, parting the soft brown hairs with my face. No cologne interfered with my interrogation. Mmmm. I inhaled his unique signature of musk and mild shampoo. Nice.

He rolled his head around, inviting me to his throat. I started just under his earlobe and followed the ridge of his jaw like Pocahontas on an expedition. With the tip of my tongue I traced a path through his territory, taking mental pictures of his texture and heat. I rubbed my lips against the grain of his facial hair, just to enjoy the living sandpaper. 

When I got to his mouth, he kissed me, then surprised me: he gripped my waist in his hands and lifted me up onto that marvelous, gazillion-dollar desk. My eyes widened. Here!

"How much do you think this desk cost?" he smirked.

"I dunno. Quarter mil?" I shrugged.

"Well, we helped pay for it. Let's enjoy it!" And he dove in for another snack, this time following the daring curve of my neckline.

I giggled in the shared delirium and wrapped my legs around his waist, gasping and letting out soft little squeals of joy as he played with my décolletage. He backed away and met my eyes with a wicked, delightful gleam that made me squirm. Rather than unzipping my costume, he boldly dipped in a hand and brought up my breast.

The laughter evaporated in my throat and gave way to glowing lust. "Mmmm..." I growled as he sucked my nipple. His belt buckle drove hard against my crotch. The wetness of my body through my tights was probably doing a good job of polishing the silver.

For several delicious minutes we held that pose. He Hoovered my breasts while my legs embraced him tightly. Every so often, he nipped at my nipples, or flicked the hard tips with his tongue. Then he held both my breasts in his hands, and buried his face in my bosom. He breathed in my skin-scent, as I had his.

I was really hungry now. I grabbed his flannel checked shirt and tore at it. His chest wasn't all that hairy, but it was hard. I wanted something else he had that was hard.

"Help me, with these, damn, buckles," I demanded. God! It would have been easier to break into Fort Knox. Belt buckle, buckles on the chaps, button, zipper... all he had to do was pull down my tights.

We were laughing again, little breaths of mirth, and then he released his cock, and we rollercoastered into the hot zone. I took him in hand and leaned down to kiss his mushroom. "Look at you, beautiful."

"Caroline..." He was hoarse with desire. In the back of my mind it occurred to me that this was the first time he'd said my name, and it was while we were engaged in some of the friendliest, naughtiest sex I'd ever enjoyed.

Hank looked ready to stagger. I gave him a bad-girl suckle to tease him before I kicked my tights off my feet. I laid back, elbows by my ribs, with my boobs draped over the Bavarian corset and my knees wide open. I wanted him to look at me, and he did. 

It was nothing short of a glorious onslaught, the way his eyes traveled over my body. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch. Unlike most men, who were strictly T&A, he seemed interested in all of me. He placed his hands on my feet, his cock bobbing like a proud banner in the breeze, and looked at me starting from there: ankles, calves, knees...

He pushed up my skirts and stared at my sex in shameless lust. I exulted in it. Lightly with one hand he cupped my mound and ran his thumb in a vertical line. I hissed through my teeth, in agony to feel him inside me.

But he wasn't done. He studied my breasts as if memorizing every light blue vein that showed through my pale skin. Lightly he caressed the heavy rounds, as if he were seeing a woman for the first time. He admired my shoulders and arms, even considered my hands.

My heels were starting to slide on the lacquered surface. Again his boyish grin flashed, and he pulled out a couple of drawers.

"Wouldn't want you to fall." He put my feet in the drawers and lined me up.

The last thing I remembered was the sensation of paper, probably some kind of fancy stationery, sliding under my left foot, and then—Hank's cock was all that existed. My entire world was his staff breaking down my door. I could feel, rather than hear, the groans emanating from my throat.

It was the purity of it, just solid cock hurtling into my soaking pussy, and nothing else. God he was hard. Eventually I became aware of the cold desk under my bare butt. Hank pounded into me furiously, and the hardware on his clothing banged against my ass. He swelled, and if possible grew harder still. I knew he was about to let go, and the knowledge and the feel of him triggered my own orgasm. With a jagged wail, I arched my back into a rainbow. Hank made a noise like a vampire stabbed with a wooden stake. He impaled me completely, riding me while the little aftershocks rippled through my body.

I made a grab for his shirt, which he wasn't expecting, and he nearly fell on top of me. We giggled and I smashed a gratified kiss on his ragged mouth.

"Mmm, mmm," we said between kisses. We thanked each other with our eyes. He said my name again, the sweetest sound to reach my ears in a long time, and hugged me. It may seem odd, but I had the most wonderful feeling right then, as if I had just made a lifelong friend.

We hunted around until we found a box of tissues and cleaned up. I did not really want to put my tights back on, but neither did I want to advertise our adventure. Hank helped me struggle back into them. This was an exercise in pure silliness, but we kept at it until we were both vaguely presentable.

"Okay. Ready?"

I nodded. "All set. How about that ride home?"

Hank gave me a final, tender kiss, and let his fingers trace my jaw. "We'll have to do this again some time."

I kissed him back and swatted his sexy cowboy ass. "It's a deal. Let's get going, silly one."

He smiled and turned the doorknob. Nothing happened.

"What are you doing?, quit fooling around. Let's go."

"Uh, it's stuck."

"What do you mean, stuck? Turn it the other way."

He shrugged and stepped out of the way. "Here, you try."

I twisted the knob back and forth. Nothing. We were definitely locked in.

"Oh, shit!"

"Don't panic!" Hank lifted both of his hands, palms up. "Have you got your phone?"

I rolled my eyes. "Do I look like I have pockets in this thing? What about you?"

"It's in my coat."

"So is mine."

As one we turned back toward the desk. It took us a while to figure out how to call the house, from the house. Stanley and Linda had some kind of intercom thing set up. A decidedly tipsy person answered the phone in the kitchen and again, there was a delay while we convinced the party guest to get the host.

At last, the man with the keys to the kingdom showed up to set us free. Luckily he wasn't angry. In fact he laughed his ass off when we blushed and said we were just having a look around when the door closed behind us.

"Right!" he smirked. "I think your hose are on backwards, there, little missy."

That remark really did set my face on fire. Stanley led us a bit further down the hall to a spare bedroom. Coats were piled all over the bed. We found ours, and bid our host good night.

"Thanks for a great party."

"You're welcome, you love-birds. Come any time," he laughed, and then we were outside, just the two of us, in the clear cold night.

As we drove home we talked about the party and the clever costumes.

"Which one did you like the best?" I asked.

"I thought 'ding bat' was clever." This guy had taken all the logos off an old Batman costume, and attached a bell to his chest, the kind you ring to get a clerk's attention.

"How about you, what was your favorite?"

"I would have to go with Venetian Blind. He really looked like a gondolier, which I think he had to work at." That, and a pair of dark glasses and a cane, made me laugh. I'm a sucker for bad puns.

"So how do you know Stanley?"

Hank didn't take his eyes off the road. For the first time that evening, his face was completely devoid of happiness.

"He handled my divorce. 'Bout a year ago. You?"

"Same," I said quietly. I was thinking that I should have given Hank a chance a lot sooner. I bet he would have understood what I was going through. Well, maybe. Maybe we would have just rebounded. You never know.

Hank pulled up in front of my building and put the car in park. He dug around in his wallet and came up with a card.

"Here, I'd like you to have my number..."

I laughed out loud. 

"What's so funny?"

Possibly—was it still there? I put my hands in my pockets. There were dirty tissues and an empty cracker packet. Among the garbage I would have thrown out was a twin to the card he held.

"I have it."

* * *

This story was written for the 2007 Halloween Contest. A story needs 25 votes to qualify for the competition, so please vote!! Oh, I thank you. L8.



Stumpy and Olive



As usual, I don't have any idea where this one came from.

*****

"Happy birthday, bro."

It was a paid subscription to a dating service. A really high priced service, with guarantees of strict confidentiality and carefully screened members. I wasn't smiling. She saw.

"Come on now, don't be like that. It's been fourteen months. Have you even gone on a date since then?"

"That's your business how, exactly?"

She stood up and towered over me. Man I hated that. Being eight inches shorter than your baby sister sucks. Add three inch heels and it really sucked.

"Listen here, Stumpy. It's time to get moving, she has."

"Well yeah, but in all fairness she started way before me. Almost a year, before I caught them.

So she's what, got almost two and a half years on me. Check back with me in a year or two."

"Damn it all! She fucked over you, she cheated, lied, tried to steal from you in the end. What did it get her?

Not a damn thing. The prenup and our Dad's high priced lawyers saw to that. She didn't even get to keep her lover, when he found out the money was gone, he was gone. She left a three quarter million dollar house that you built just for her and now she's in a studio apartment, living like a college student. She had to get a job, no more lounging by the pool at the country club. She was a cake eater, plain and simple. When you caught her and took the cake away, she choked on the crumbs. And the best part was she did it to herself, you didn't have to lift a finger.

Grow up and move on. You're young, rich, not repulsive to look at. Think of it this way, Stumpy, it'll keep you out of the grasp of those country club sharks. You know I'm only doing it because I love you."

She tried to look innocent. I laughed.

"Yeah, and a side benefit would be getting Mom off your ass about finding Mr. Right and pumping out grandbabies."

She had to grace to blush.

"Well, yeah, there's that too."

I picked up the envelope and gave her a kiss.

"I love you anyway, and how many times have I asked you to stop calling me Stumpy?"

She giggled and kissed my cheek.

"Probably a million, when it gets up to two I'll think about it. Love you, bro, gotta go."

Every man in the room watched her exit, the short skirt swishing over a very nice bottom. Must be a bitch to be young, beautiful, rich, and single.

...

Three days later I was rattling around that big house I hated, thinking once again how I wanted to sell it, but the real estate market sucked like never before, and I refused to take a loss. Plus, I knew it drove my ex crazy knowing I had it and not her.

I walked into my home office and idly noticed the dating service card. Honestly, I was about half buzzed, and I thought I would kill two birds with one stone. I would put the stupidest rant I could think of on the site, and be able to look my sister in the eye and tell her I actually tried it. I wouldn't get any hits, and sis would leave me alone. I fired up the computer.

Punching in the user number I was assigned, I placed my profile.

...

"Short, bald, fat, ugly, broke guy with small penis seeks tall, thin woman, teeth optional, for correspondence and possible relationship. Round heeled slut preferred, but simple promiscuity accepted. Must be willing to give and receive verbal abuse. Don't need to like you, fuck loving you. I just need to get my rocks off. My name is Stumpy, for obvious reasons."

I put a picture of Baldy, one of the seven dwarfs from the Disney cartoon production, and signed off.

"That should settle that" I thought, as I sipped my straight rye whiskey.

...

Sometimes I hate my Mom. She was holding the dating service card, waving it in front of me.

"Come on, what have you got to lose? You haven't exactly met anyone close to Mr. Right in your social circle, have you?"

I hated her even more when she was right. I was six feet tall and weighed two hundred and ten pounds. I liked to describe myself as someone the painter Reuben would have loved to use as a model. My ex was two inches shorter than me without heels. Damn, I hadn't worn heels in the three years we'd been married, and I loved them.

I was more successful, more connected, more social, the litany went on. As he put it at the divorce, I was just more. More than he could compete with, more than he could handle, more than he could ever be. The sad part was I didn't care.

It didn't matter, he couldn't stay with me and maintain his male principles, so he left me.

The fact that I loved him just didn't matter anymore.

So, yes, I was bitter, and gun shy. I was also twenty eight years old, and as Mom handed me the card, she whispered "Tick-tock, honey."

Great, no pressure there.

The card sat on my desk for two weeks. One night, bored out of my mind, I logged on. 

Member directory popped up, starting with the newest. I scrolled through some, reading the bios and trying to figure out how hard they were lying. Jesus, some of the pictures of the thirty somethings had to be straight out of high school year books.

Then I got to his. I was a sucker for the movie, it was one of my favorites growing up. The picture pulled me in.

When I read his description and actually smiled for the first time in a long time. This guy was either a pathetic loser or had a wicked sense of humor. I decided to play along. I sent him a message.

...

Stumpy, You pathetic worm.

I'm your dream come true. Six feet four, I weigh a hundred and thirty four pounds, all in the right places, if you like big guts and cellulite thighs. I won't say I'm flat chested, but when I'm hungover, which is usually all the time, I'm been known to put my bra on backwards, and nobody notices.

And I'm proud to say I have my own teeth, four of them to be exact. Hey, they're a good anchor for the dentures, when I remember to wear them. I'm not exactly sure where they are, but I'll find them eventually.

You better respond quick, or I'll reach through cyber space and bitch slap the hell out of you.

Love[HA!]

Olive.

I sent it off with a picture of Olive Oil[or is it Oyl? I can never remember], one where she's just been hit and one of her eyes is an x and her tongue is hanging out.

...

I forgot about the dating site until the weekend, when I pulled it up just for fun. Forty eight responses! Damn!

There are a lot of sick bitches out there, and apparently most of them know how to use a cell phone camera. I'm glad I looked before dinner. Now, I wasn't so hungry.

If Olive hadn't been the third one I read I would never have seen it. After eight I just started deleting, keeping only hers. Damn, I think she gets it.

I sent her a reply.

...

Olive,

you low rent bitch. How the hell do you sleep at night? Never mind, you lucky cunt. You probably don't sleep at night much, do you? I'm pretty sure you do 'shift' work.

You've just met the man of your dreams. So stop fucking those losers and get with the program.

Not to brag[well yeah I am] I'm hung like a donkey. You know, the cute little miniatures that are only about two feet tall.

Here. I'll send you a picture. Four and a QUARTER inches, and yeah, it's a whopping three quarter inches in circumference. Gotta tell you little girl, I've had few complaints, but then again, by the time it's my turn they're usually passed out, or afraid to blow a big tip. Stop drooling on the screen!

So name the time and place, and if there's a bus route nearby I'll be there with bells on. It's sort of a fetish.

Damn, I just looked at the picture, I had my thumb on the lens, but what the heck, it's real similar.

Get back to me soon, sweetness.

Stumpy.

Ha! let her top that!

...

I almost wet myself laughing. This guy was great! 

I had to think of something even more outlandish.

Tuesday I replied.

...

Stumpy, you sick bastard

I saw the picture, gotta tell you, my nipple got hard. Yeah, I've only got one, the other one got bit off. Long story. My pussy did drip a little, but I think that may have to do with my medical condition. The doc says I'll be back in action soon, and be sure they use condoms from now on. I'm trying to send you a picture of my cunt for your enjoyment.

I've only got about ten pussy hairs, and no, I don't shave. Let's just say constant friction wears them off. The ones I've got are about six inches long, I braid them and put a cute bow on it. And when you see the picture, no, I don't have two clits, it's just a wart. You'd be amazed how many guys nibble the wrong one.

Oops! Gotta go, my first custom--er, friend for the evening is here. I know I'm out of action down below, but I can suck a cock and drink a soda through a straw at the same time, and not lose suction on either one. You'd be amazed how much money I've won with that little trick.

Your indifferent bitch,

Olive.

Bet he can't top that.

...

She was partly right. It took me about four days to frame his reply.

...

Olive, the future queen of my singlewide 

I'm glad to know you have a profession, one you obviously excel at. I'm sure your practice and dedication has reaped many rewards for you.

I'm sorry to say I'm temporarily between careers at the moment, though I have applied for a position with many nationally recognized corporations.

You know, McDonalds, KFC, etc.

No luck yet, they just can't find the right position yet. But really, how fucking hard is it to say "Good morning, welcome to Wal-Mart?" Apparently hard enough to exclude me from consideration.

I mean, come on, I'm a nice guy, I take showers sometimes three and four times a week, and shave at least twice. My wardrobe is a bit limited, perhaps going to the McDonalds interview with a Wendys uniform shirt wasn't such a good idea, but it was all I had clean. 

Oh well ,I'll get something soon, and be able to support you in the lifestyle you'll be forced to accept.

Keep it warm for me.

Stumpy.

...

Damn this guy was good. It was gonna take a while to top him.

I let a couple of my girlfriends read the drivel, and maybe it was the two bottles of wine, but they laughed until they screamed. Then we conspired. Boy, women are sure some nasty bitches sometimes.

Remember the country song "Friends Don't Let Friends Drink And Text", by something Otto? Friends shouldn't let friends drink and compose emails.

...

Stumpy, man of my unpaid affections

Sorry to hear about your career challenges. That's one of the reasons I'm self employed. I'm not into sales, sorry if I gave you that impression.

I'm more into short terms rentals. Turnover is fairly high, but I require cash up front, so it doesn't really matter. The drawback is they almost always leave a mess I have to clean up, but I factor that into the rental agreement.

I'm also prominent in local civic affairs. For instance, I'm currently the Chairperson and sole member of the entertainment and welcoming committee for 4BMC, you know, the BIG Bad Black Bikers Motorcycle Club.

We have an out of town chapter coming in this weekend. There's only going to be twenty six, but if that's all I have to work with, I'll make do.

Gotta go, the chapter president is here, and he wants to sample the hospitality.

I'll save some leftovers for you.

Olive

...

I let my friend Mike see the correspondence when he asked how the internet dating was going. He grew up with me and my family, and sis had told him to watch out for me. He nearly fell of the chair laughing, and promised he would help me come up with more trash to talk. He also promised to keep it away from my sister.

I had been able to look her in the eye when she asked, and told her with a straight face I had met a woman I was talking with and a possible relationship may develop. She was over the moon.

Of course, she told Mom right away, damn it, and I had to finally tell them to give me a break and let it develop without pressure, and maybe they would get to meet her sometime in the future. That fended them off for the short term.

I excused myself, I had an email to compose.

...

Olive, you real live blow up doll

I commend you civic pride. Community should always cum first.

I hope the weekend festivities went well for you.

Honestly, the thought of your weekend activities excited me greatly. Unfortunately I was too broke to get help to relieve the tension I was under, so I decided to take things in hand. Sadly, I ran out of lotion Friday and couldn't afford more. Not wanting to risk blisters, from experience I can tell you it takes a long time to recover from those, I was forced to improvise. I had some bacon grease left over from breakfast. It works pretty well, but the downside is my bedroom now smells like burnt bacon.

Gotta go, the city is looking for a new garbageman, and I've got a pretty good shot at it. Wish me luck.

By the way, did I mention my favorite dessert is chocolate cream pie?

Love you, kind of mean it,

Stumpy

Wonder what she would say to that?

...

Thanks to my friends Gwen and Marcie I had plenty of material.

...

Stumpy, my cute little pervert

Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, but it was a busy weekend.

First, the entertainment program was pretty well received. I'm pretty sure the guys will remember it for a long time.

Hold on, I need to get another pillow for my chair. I told that dumb son of a bitch there was no way he could get that 'ape hanger' handlebar up my twat, but he just had to prove me wrong. It was pretty damned uncomfortable until he started revving the engine.

The downside was when they left Sunday morning one of them accidentally took my purse.

I was broke so I worked the last day of the construction convention uptown to get a little pocket money.

I must say, the 'Pink Hammer' all women construction franchise taught me about the tongue and groove building system, and the Roto Rooter guys kept trying to back flush my septic system, but all they accomplished was clogging my drain lines. I did get to try out a lot of new tools.

Too bad you couldn't come over for dessert Sunday night, your chocolate cream pie had a big layer of vanilla frosting on it, and a couple of shots of habenero juice. It would have been an interesting taste.

To top it off I started my period Monday. Gotta go, I have a friend coming over who likes his cunt steak rare, and then a couple of the new members of the 4BMC are coming by to earn their 'red wing' patches.

And I won't be keeping it warm, it's always hot.

Olive

...

The emails got wilder and raunchier as the weeks passed. 

He bragged about his new job as janitor at a sex shop, saying it didn't pay much, but the fringe benefits were great and he did get a 25% discount on goods and services.

She told him about her induction into the Southern Railway hall of fame, for 'pulling more trains than their entire freight division'.

Four months had gone by. They had pretty much exhausted the imaginations of themselves and all their friends.

Then she got a new email, and everything changed.

...

Olive,

I have enjoyed this correspondence immensely, but all good things come to an end. I find you to be witty, articulate, and fun to talk to. But, it's time to either end it or go to the next level.

I suggest we start slow, by telling each other one true fact about ourselves.

My nickname really is Stumpy, at least to my family.

Your turn.

Stumpy.

...

She thought about it a lot before really responding.

Stumpy,

In reality I'm actually six feet tall.

Olive

...

She agonized over telling him that, but better to tell him now, especially if he really was short. She didn't need a repeat of her ex husband. Shocking her, he replied almost immediately.

...

Olive,

Thank you for your honesty, but I find height to not be an issue if there is emotion going on.

Now, here's another revelation. I have a good job, selling cars. It's not for everybody, but I'm pretty good at it, maybe because I try to treat everybody right and don't make promises I can't keep. There is such a thing as an honest car salesman.

Stumpy.

...

He thought hard before telling her that. Car salesmen didn't have the best reputation.

But honesty, or in this case semi-honesty seemed the best policy.

...

She thought long and hard about telling him what she did for a living, it could be just as off putting to men as her height, but he would find out eventually if they kept it up

Stumpy,

My profession is just as difficult when it comes to trust. I'm a lawyer, and our reputation 

is right up there with car salesmen. I am good at my job though, at least my bosses think so.

Olive

...

I sat back, thinking I'd really like to meet this woman. I grinned when I pictured her face when we would meet. I did indeed have the family nickname of Stumpy. Pretty funny considering I'm six feet four.

But, when you have two brothers who are six eleven, and a sister who stands an even seven feet, I kinda did feel short. It didn't help that Mom was six ten and Dad was seven one. We weren't circus freaks, just big people.

And I really did sell cars for a living. The thing is, my family owns seven dealerships scattered across the state. I manage the Cadillac, Lexus, and Mercedes dealership, both brothers and my sister run the Toyota/Subaru/Ford/Volkswagen/BMW/Austin/Jaguar/GMC/Ferrari dealerships, I can never remember which one has which cars. The rest have really competent managers. and Mom and Dad travel around, making sure none of us screw up too badly.

...

I fired up the computer and sent my next message.

Olive,

I've been married before. The divorce was not because of me.

Love, Stumpy.

...

So he was a loser in love also. 

Stumpy,

So have I. And the divorce was his idea, even though I treated him with respect and never cheated on him. Looks like we're both losers.

Love you back, Olive

...

I thought about it for a long time, almost a week, before I replied.

Sweet Olive,

We are not losers! You are not a loser! Say it again and I'll spank you! We are just two people who didn't get it right the first time, and have experience on what to avoid, and what to look for. Based on our conversations, I find you witty, articulate, and bet you have a killer sense of humor. Of course, I have no idea what you look like(although in my fantasy you have long, sensual hair, a smile that would melt the hardest heart, very kissable lips, and a body that would make Helen Of Troy weep. Even if you're not that beautiful, I still bet you're damn hot. I can smell it. I have a nose for hotness, but it really doesn't mean all that much to me. You are who you are, and that's the main thing.

LUBX2, Stumpy.

...

Wow, that seemed a lot like a love letter.

Stumpy,

I didn't know you had a silver tongue. I hope it's as good at other things. Helen doesn't need to be looking over her shoulder, but I'm not repulsive. My boobs are too big, my hips are too wide, and my waist isn't as small as I would like it to be, but I carry it well. It's a good thing you think I have a beautiful mind. I think I have nice legs, though. And you kinky boy, talking about spanking. Just so you know, for the right man I'd consent to a little discipline, if I think I deserve it. I might even wear my schoolgirl outfit.

If you can smell hotness, you might want to check your computer for shorts.

Oh, and I'm one hell of a kisser.

LUBX3, Olive.

Let his horny little mind digest that.

...

Wow, double wow, and wow again. Are we having cybersex? I hope so.

Sexy Olive,

You naughty girl. Do you know how hard it is to keyboard with one hand? Just so you know, there's no such thing as boobs being too big, unless they're like 99DDD. And I've been told my tongue is one of my best features,I've been known to give full body massages with it. Long, slow massages, speeding up only when I get to the good parts. Women have been known to thank me in really shrill voices sometimes.




Stumpy and Olive



I'd like to see the school girl outfit(although in my fantasy, you're wearing a bustier, and thigh highs, under a slinky silk dress that slides off easily. I'd unwrap you slowly, like the best present I've ever gotten, drop the dress off your shoulders, slip the detachable cups off the bustier and slowly lick your...wait, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, school outfit), those incredibly long legs barely covered by your little plaid skirt, cute little white panties peeking out as you bend over my lap. I'd have to fondle it a bit before the spanking began, then...damn, gotta go, something smells like it's overheating.

And you reek of hotness. My nose knows.

LUBX4, Stumpy.

I pushed back from the computer, looking at the bulge in my shorts. Damn, I needed to be laid in the worst way.

...

I pushed back from the computer table, my face flushed, my breathing ragged. I looked down to see my nipples standing straight out, hard as I've ever felt them. I had been squirming on my chair, and I could smell myself. I'd have to wash that cushion soon. Serves me right for sitting down naked. I left the computer open, and wandered to the bedroom, trying to remember where I'd stashed BOB, and if the batteries were still good.

An hour and three orgasms later, I was finally able to answer him.

Stumpy, darling,

How sweet you are. I don't have a bustier(yet), but I do have one little outfit I bought for myself after the divorce. I'll only wear it when I find the man I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with. It's a sheer lace, baby blue, one piece that can only be worn once, because after I put it on, it has to be unraveled to be removed.

And it has to be done slowly, for full effect.

It's symbolic of me shedding my old life, appearing to my man brand new, just for him, forever. Stupidly romantic, I know, but it means a lot to me.

All the love I have, Olive.

...

I'd never read anything so heartfelt, so genuine, that it hit me hard. All she wanted was to be loved by the right man, and she would belong to him forever.

I had to walk away from the computer for a while, there must be dust in here because I was misting up.

I thought about it a long time, almost a week. I wanted to meet this woman more than anything I'd ever wanted in my entire life. I was on a mission when I emailed her again.

Dearest Olive,

It's time. Time for us to meet, and go on a real date. Time to separate the fantasy from the reality. You may not like me. I might find you irritating. The only way to know for sure is to spend time together.

The thought of being with another woman has me tied up in knots. What if she's a bad person, what if she destroys me again? Could I take another hit that hard? So for the last year I've stayed away from women because of fear. With you, I have no fear. And paradoxically, that scares the hell out of me.

But I'm willing to take that chance. One thing though, if you're willing to do this. I don't want to know what you look like until we meet, or hear your voice. I'd rather see you for the first time face to face, try to catch the emotion in your voice, to gauge your reactions, see how quick you are on your feet. I guess I'm just a delayed gratification type of guy. The anticipation, to me, heightens the experience.

So, Sweet Olive, what do you say? Do we stay anonymous and safe, or go for the real, the raw, the unexpected? Your choice.

Think about it, I'll be waiting.

Just Love, Stumpy

I took a deep breath and hit send.

...

I stared at the screen for a long time. Did I want this? What if he's a bad person, has body odor and an annoying voice? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Stumpy,

Name the time and place. Maybe this time I'll have the bells on.

Olive

...

She actually said yes! Now, I had to figure out how, when and where to meet. I actually talked about it to my sister Emily, telling her the whole story, letting her read the emails. It took her almost two hours.

When she was done she sat back and grinned at me.

"Wow! You guys are made for each other. You need to go for it and meet her, soon."

"I agree, but it has to be perfect. Suggestions?"

We talked for an hour, discussing different options. Dinner? Drinks? A club, a park, anywhere. Finally Em smiled.

"I know just the thing. Invite her to our Christmas party! It's three weeks away so she'll have time to decide what she wants to wear, or even if she wants to go."

The company Christmas party was a big event. All our managers, vendors, and a few select friends attended. The managers because they got their year end bonuses then, the vendors in appreciation, the friends because it was always fun. It was semi-formal, and the ladies went all out, while the men wore really nice suits. There were always between a hundred fifty to two hundred in attendance. We usually booked a really nice venue, had an excellent meal catered, made the mandatory speeches, then opened the bar and let the dancing begin. The band was always top notch, able to play something for every taste. Mom had made us all take lessons, and we usually opened the floor with a slow number, with mostly just family dancing. My ex didn't like to dance with me because of our great height disparity, she said she felt like she was six years old dancing with her grandfather. It hurt me, but I blew it off. 

"I don't know, sis, don't you think it will be a bit much? Our family is not exactly shy. The poor woman might not have a good time."

"Leave it to me. I'll make sure the family gives you privacy, well, as much as possible. And if you two get close, she'll have to get used to them eventually. Better to get it over with right off the bat."

I looked at her trying to stifle a laugh, and agreed.

...

Olive,

I formally request you accompany to my company Christmas gathering. My company goes all out, and it's usually a lot of fun. If you agree, I'll give you the details. I've thought a lot about this. These are the people I spend most of my time with, and if we become close you'd have to meet most of them eventually. And I promise, there will be a quiet place we can talk, without interruption. Think about it, it's three weeks from Saturday. I really hope you attend, I've told my friends that I've been talking with a really hot woman, and since I haven't dated in almost a year, half of them think I made you up.

Stumpy.

...

I talked it over with my friends, and my mom before answering. I'd hoped for something a little more intimate, wondering why he wanted our first date to be in a crowd. Mom clarified it for me.

"I think he wants you to feel comfortable, honey. You're meeting a stranger, which would you rather, a large open space surrounded by people, or a dark lounge where you can't hear each other talk."

Looking at it in that light, I sent him my reply.

Darling Stumpy,

I accept your kind invitation, if you agree to attend my company function the following week. That's contingent, of course, if we can stand each other. I'm a girl, so I'll need details, dress especially.

Looking forward, Olive.

...

She said yes! It felt better than when Ginny Gilbert accepted my junior prom invitation. 

Sweet Olive,

The dress is semi-formal, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the women usually went all out, competing a little, I guess. I work for the Stevens Automotive Group, and the party will be held at the Grove Inn. It starts at eight, with dinner, then there'll be a few short speeches, followed by dancing and an open bar.

And I'd love to party with a bunch of lawyers. I bet you guys sit around and tell fart jokes and see who can pass out the fastest. I'm in.

...

Well. The Stevens Auto Group. I knew a little about them through my firm, they were probably the biggest franchise in the state, seven dealerships, and were about to add an eight. I wonder which dealership he worked at? And the Grove Inn? It was almost impossible for a normal person to get to see the inside of the place. Only the cream of the local society set frequented it.

One of the partners at my firm had actually attended one of their parties, a date of one of their suppliers. She said she was sure I'd have a good time. When she described the dresses, I knew there was a shopping trip in my immediate future.

I suddenly had a thought. What if he was really short? I guess I'd have to wear flats. I actually told him I'd be wearing them, and was surprised by his response.

...

Olive, 

what's the highest heels you own? Never mind. If the heels you have on when we meet aren't at least four inches, there will be a serious spanking in your future. I'm not kidding, I absolutely adore women in heels, especially when that's all they have on. Oops, did I really type that? Disregard that last(or not).

See you in seventeen days and five hours, Stumpy.

...

Four inches? Really? The highest pair I owned were only two and a half, but what girl needs motivation to go shoe shopping? My friends giggled when they went with me and I tried on a pair, stumbling slightly from the newness.

"Would you look at that! Our girl Amber in high heels. And not just high heels, genuine CFM's!"

The salesgirl snorted back a laugh while I looked puzzled.

"Come on, Amber, you know, Come Fuck Me heels."

I flashed bright red before grinning, eyeing the shoes in the mirror. "Well, I certainly hope so," I said, making them laugh harder.

After three stores and fourteen pair, I finally found a pair I adored. Basic black strappies, but damn they made me legs look great. I made a visit to a very nice lingerie store, picking up three sets of thigh highs, and a really hot looking bustier. It shaped me, pushing the girls straight out and putting extra curving on my bottom.

In a flash of inspiration, I put the basic black dress I'd be wearing on, with a pair of patterned black thigh highs and my new shoes. I experimented in front of the mirror until I got just the shot I wanted, My high heel encased foot and my leg, all the way up to the band of my thigh highs. I sent it to him ten days before our date.

Stumpy baby, 

I know we're not supposed to see each other until we meet, but I just had to show you my new shoes. Do you like them? What do you think of the hose? Too much? Give me an opinion.

your Olive

...

I opened the email at work late that evening. Big mistake. It was hot! And I mean HOT! I had to sit at my desk for thirty minutes before my erection went down. I seriously thought of ducking into the bathroom to help it along a little. Then I had a better idea.

Sexy Olive, baby,

I'm not an expert on ladies shoewear, but that is a damned impressive set of footwear! The leg looks really great, I can't wait to see the matched set. Words fail me trying to describe how hot you look, but then again, all the blood is rushing from my brain, making it hard to form coherent sentences. I think a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'm sending you one that will show you exactly how impressed I am.

The days aren't passing fast enough for me, Stumpy.

I know it was juvenile, but I sent her a picture of my erection, plain to see through the khaki pants I was wearing.

...

Wow. I wasn't sure exactly what to make of that. Finally I decided to take it in the spirit of our emails. After all, it was just a bulge in some slacks. I couldn't help enlarging it a bit, deciding it was a really nice bulge.

Stumpy, you little horn dog,

Thanks, I think. It's nice to be appreciated. And I WILL be wearing the bustier and thigh highs to the party, and no other 'foundation' garments under my dress. You won't get to see anything, although if you're a good boy some touching may take place.

Olive

...

Olive, you little tease,

Stop doing that! I read most of your emails at work because of my hours, and my secretary always knows when I get one of your notes. She just grins, looks at my crotch, and asks when she'll finally get to meet you.

When I told her you were my date for the Christmas party she frowned, asking me if I thought it appropriate to expose you to my family so soon. I forgot, but most of my family works for Stevens at different locations. They can be a bit overwhelming. My sister promised me she'd do her best to limit your exposure. She said she'd try, anyway.

See you in 183 hours and forty-nine minutes,

Stumpy.

...

His whole family at once? I wasn't too happy about that. Mom just grinned.

"Better to get it over with quick. I know, tell him you want to bring me along to level the field. I've always wanted to party at the Grove Inn."

I knew she was kidding. Mom had been at loose ends for the past two years, ever since my Dad traded her in for a woman almost as young as me. It took her months to come to terms with it, and she was just now starting to be interested in men again. We were both hit about the same time, and sharing each others' misery had helped us heal. I hadn't spoken to my father but once since, telling him what an asshole he was, and that I'd laugh when she cheated on him. "After all, she as a history of it, doesn't she?" He slammed the phone down. He moved across the country, and I hadn't seen or spoke to him in sixteen months.

I mentioned in passing what my mother had said in my next email, and was surprised at his response.

...

Sweetie,

By all means, bring her along. It would make me feel better about dumping my whole family on you. After all, sooner or later she'll have to inspect me, and meet my family, look how much time we'd save.

Oh, I have a Christmas present for you. My company usually retains a few rooms for those who have just a bit too much fun, and my bosses agreed to let me have a small suite for the night.

Before you get any ideas, I was thinking maybe you and your mother could have it. That way you wouldn't have to be driving, could relax, and have a good time. It doesn't mean I won't be there, I intend to take you both down to the Sunday brunch the Inn is famous for. We'll get to spend even more time together. Tell me soon, there are others who would enjoy the suite if you don't want it.

One hundred forty nine hours and seven minutes, Stumpy.

...

It's kind of hard to shock my mother, but I think he succeeded. When I told her I was going to decline, she slapped me on the back of my head.

"Oh no you're not! A night of partying, a suite at the most exclusive place around, and a brunch that's been written to be one of the top three in the nation? If you don't want it, give it to me. Maybe I can entice your boyfriend up, show him my appreciation."

She ran her hands down her toned body, the result of countless hours in the gym, and grinned. "After all, I know the younger guys in your office have voted me the "MILF I'd most like to..."

"Mother! What's got into you?" She smirked, and I was aware she'd seen the flash of jealousy.

"Nothing, at least not yet. But don't worry, I'll leave your honey alone, for now anyway. I'd hate to have someone expire from overexertion at the party."

She laughed at my expression and walked off, swaying her hips. I had to admit, if I looked like her at fifty-four, I was going to be damn lucky.

Dear Stumpy,

Mom says thanks, we'll buy matching bells. She's kind of hot for her age, but don't get ideas or fantasies about a mother/daughter combo into your twisted little mind. I guess I need to tell you now I'm a bit territorial. All right, I'm a LOT territorial, something you need to be aware of if we get into a serious relationship. If you're mine, you're MINE, understand?

Seventy four hours and nineteen minutes, damn you, now you've got me counting. Olive.

...

Sweetheart, 

I understand. But if your mother shares the least bit of your hotness, it might be difficult. And I'm a little possessive myself, you can ask my exwife and she'll verify that pretty quickly. I'm sure she would be glad to tell you how I react to betrayal.

I'm going to ask you to trust me a bit. I want your address, but not your name. I want to give you a little token of my appreciation. It will arrive the day of the party. It's a little thing, but I think you will like it.

Forty-nine hours, Stumpy.

...

Finally! I was glad it was Saturday, I would have been worse than useless at work. Mom didn't help much, two women stressing in one house was a little nerve wracking. We'd both been to the salon, having our hair styled and makeup professionally applied. We dressed carefully, and I have to say the results were stunning. Mom had on an ivory silk sheath that came three inches above her knees, four inch heels, her blond hair shining, diamond studs and a matching necklace finishing the image. She looked midthirties, not midfifties.

I had on the basic black dress. It went three inches below my knees, and had a dangerously high slit in the back. The bustier made my figure even more appealing, and the feel of the silk on my bare bottom was exciting me. I slipped a black thong in my purse, in case I had moisture issues.

The black hose felt delicious when my legs rubbed against each other. I finished the outfit with pearl earrings and a single strand round my neck.

I admired myself for a moment in the mirror, loving the curves, the way my auburn hair glowed in the lighting. I licked my lips, deciding the shade of my lip gloss was perfect. I saw mom grinning over my shoulder.

"Damn! I did good with you, girl. He won't be able to talk with his tongue hanging out and the blood flowing away from his brain."

I patted a stray curl. "I hope so. I wasted a lot of time and money if he doesn't"

Mom went to collect our coats while I went out to warm the car. It was thirty degrees outside, with a threat of snow. I felt a tinge of sadness, the gift he was supposed to send me never arrived, and it had me wondering.

Opening the door, I almost got hit in the face. A woman, in a white uniform and cap, hair back in a bun, was about to knock on the door. She grinned when she saw me jump.

"Sorry, traffic slowed me down a bit." She handed me two small packages, one plainly marked Olive, the other simply Mom.

"Stumpy says hello. Can I come in, it's kind of cold out here."

I recovered and invited her in. Mom came to see who it was. The woman held out her hand.

"I'm Caroline. I'll be your driver tonight. I'm to wait until you open the packages, then drive you to the Grove Inn."

She stood, enjoying the look of shock on our faces. "Go on, now, open them. I want to try to beat the weather."

I collapsed on the couch and tore off the obviously expensive paper.

Bells. Little silver bells on a silver chain. I looked at them closely. There were nine bells, each engraved. I stretched them out.

H O T N E S S X 10.

Mom opened hers, surprised to see a variation of the same thing, four slightly larger bells on a silver chain. M I L F, and a note for both of us.

"You both deserve the bells. It'll help me find you in a crowd."

My hands were shaking so bad I couldn't close the tiny clasp, so Caroline volunteered to hurry us along, As she wrapped it around my ankle she glanced up. I was so distracted that I didn't notice I wasn't in the most ladylike of positions, dress hiked up and knees opened. She grinned while I flamed red.

"Looks like someone is going to have a good time tonight." Mom saved me from embarrassment by smirking.

"God, I hope so. I haven't been laid in ages. Some little boytoy is going to find a MILF under his tree tonight."

"MOM!" I squealed out. They both laughed at me and hustled me outside. The limo turned out to be a Hummer.

Caroline apologized, saying it was supposed to be a Mercedes, but with the weather situation the Hummer seemed more prudent.

Snow had just started falling as we pulled under the portico at the grand entrance to the Inn, the massive marble columns glistening under the lights. The outdoor chandelier that had been written up in so many magazines twinkling brightly. Suddenly I was terrified. This was it.




Stumpy and Olive



...

I was feeling terrified. I bet I walked five miles going from the banquet hall to the grand foyer. Emily finally calmed me down.

"Relax, Caroline just sent me a text. They're pulling in the drive now. Let's neaten you up a bit."

She adjusted my tie and collar, then dusted imaginary lint off my suit, trying to calm me. Her phone chirped again. She glanced down, grinned, and said, "they're here. Go get her, tiger!", and shoved me forward.

...

We were here. I sat paralyzed, all kinds of thoughts going through my mind. I looked down and smoothed my dress. When I looked up, there he was.

All I saw was a toned body under an obviously expensive suit, crisp, just right haircut and a dazzling smile. He opened my door slowly, and reached for me.

"Olive?," he asked, in a quiet voice. I looked into his eyes, seeing the hope and uncertainty in his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, and suddenly I felt serene. I stood, still holding his hand. "It's Amber. You don't know how happy I am to meet you." Without letting go of his hand, I leaned forward and kissed him. 

Not hard, no tongue, lasting maybe two seconds, but it was the most enjoyable kiss of my life so far. He just stood there stunned as I grinned.

"Stumpy, I hope?"

He shook a little trying to regain his composure, before giving me a terrific smile. "It's Garth, actually. And you have no idea how pleased I am to meet you."

I don't know how long we would have stood there if someone hadn't loudly cleared their throat. 

"Hi, I'm Beverly, your future mother if things go right. I'm not generating the heat you two are, and I'm freezing here. Can we please go inside now?"

"MOM!"

Stumpy/Garth laughed, tucked our arms into his, and walked us inside. Mom made sure her little bells were tinkling. He looked down, noticing them, and looked up smiling.

"Do you like them?"

I didn't get to speak before Mom quipped. "We love them. If it doesn't work out with my daughter, look me up. I'll model them for you. Of course, for the full effect I'd have to be naked. Maybe you'll get to ring my bells."

"MOM! Stop it!" They both laughed.

"Calm down, baby. I'm at the Grove Inn, going into what looks like a very nice party, wearing an expensive gift a man just gave me, dressed to the nines.I intend to drink, dance, flirt, maybe find someone who'll hold my interest for more than five minutes."

...

I felt like I owned the world when I went through the doors with a beautiful woman on each arm. I was well aware I'd earned the nickname of 'Monk' in the last year. Take that, doubters.

People were gravitating towards us when my sister showed up. "Back off, people. The parents get the first crack."

She held out her hand to my ladies. "Hi, I'm Emily. His little sister. It's a pleasure to meet you, nice to see the woman that finally made him smile again. Now that he's finally met you, I suspect the smile will be permanent. Come on, I'll introduce you to our parents, and our brothers."

They stood when we approached the table. I know my mouth hung open in surprise. "Now you know where the nickname comes from.," he said, grinning. I hadn't really noticed, but thinking back, when we kissed, I had to raise my head slightly. I glanced up again.

"A little over six four. Pretty impressive, until you realize everyone in the family has at least six inches on me. it almost gave me a complex."

Emily chimed in. "Don't let him fool you. He's the most driven of all of us. We all know when dad retires he'll take over."

I wondered what she was talking about until the introductions were made. Her father shook my hand, seeming genuinely happy to meet me.

"Welcome to our family gathering, Amber. Don't let the Stevens name throw you, we're just average people who were a little luckier than most."

Stevens? It hit me, Stevens Auto Group. These guys had a company worth in the high millions. I looked over at him.

"Car salesman?" He actually blushed.

His mother, who had just hugged me, spoke.

"Don't be so hard on him, dear. He didn't tell you a lie, he does sell cars. He just has a less active roll, being manager of our most successful dealership."

Conversation flowed, and my mom and his seemed to hit it off. I saw them a few times deep in conversation. I asked her a few months later what they talked about so hard. She seemed surprised.

"Your wedding, of course." She laughed at the look on my face.

Mom had a ball, especially when she was introduced to one of their managers a little older than her. He was single, the result of a nasty divorce. They traded war stories.

"She dumped me for someone younger. Actually, she didn't dump me, she wanted to keep me for the lifestyle I offered, depending on her boyfriend for her other 'needs'. When I caught them and she realized there would be no forgiveness, she got ugly. Fortunately for me, the prenupt held up. I still had to pay her alimony, but only have one left. I'm going to deliver it myself, in change and ones. My last chance to tick her off."

"Maybe mine ran off with yours, I also got dumped for a newer model. We didn't have a prenupt, and it cost him a bundle to make me go away."

There was a spark there, everyone could see it. They had a lot of common interests, including gym time and hiking. She told him she didn't get to hike much, a woman alone was just too risky.

"I'm not trying to outrun time, just making it a interesting chase.," he said, explaining his addition to exercise. "Listen I belong to a hiking group. We're going to hike the Andes this summer in a group vacation. Here's our card. Give me your number. The next time we go out I'll give you a call."

After that, she was hooked. She still danced a few fast numbers with others, but he got all the slow ones. I was happy for her.

I was introduced to people I wouldn't remember an hour later, danced with a few people I didn't want to, had a vicious pang of what, jealousy, shoot through me when he danced with a striking blond who wasn't familiar with the concept of personal space. I was glad to see he actually looked happy when it was over. I took a firm grip on his hand and didn't let go.

We gradually drifted to the back, where we found a secluded table.

...

The family seemed to like her, and her mother. Both mothers had several long discussions, no doubt with us as subject matter. Her mother met Jeremiah, one of our top managers and a close friend. I was happy to see them connect.

Finally, I got her alone.

"I'm sorry about my family. I know they can be overwhelming."

She actually giggled. "Remember, I'm a lawyer. It takes a lot to overwhelm me."

"Good. I need to tell you that even though my family owns the company, I'm not a spoiled rich kid. I work hard to make my dealership the best. I make a hundred and fifty thousand a year, plus bonuses, a bit high but still competitive in the industry. I don't drink much, never smoked, never been in trouble. A bit boring, actually."

She smiled. "I can do boring. My ex was a bit of a risk taker, and his get rich quick schemes almost put us in bankruptcy several times. Just another reason we didn't make it."

"Mine didn't do so well in the divorce," I explained. "Mom didn't trust her, and she had our lawyers come up with a prenupt that stipulated that if she was caught having a legally proven affair she was out with just her car, clothes, jewelry, and twenty-five thousand dollars. She tried to fight until she realized she'd used up half of her settlement and got smart. I did pay the whole twenty-five just to get rid of her faster. I hear she's a waitress at Hooters now."

"It makes you cynical, doesn't it?" I think I scored points with my reply.

"Not in my case, but it did take a lot out of me. It's made me cautious, but I still believe in love. I still want the dream. A good woman that has my respect as well as my total love, the kids, the house with the picket fence, all of it. Someday, maybe." 

...

The statement made me warm all over. Men with that view of life were getting increasingly hard to find. Was he one of a dying breed? If he was, I needed to get my brand on him quick. I rubbed his arm, pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Someday may come sooner than you think, honey."

His mouth hung open and I leaned in, closing it with a kiss. A real, tongue twisting, lip smashing kiss that lasted about thirty seconds. When I finally pulled back, we were both gasping.

"Wow! Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what was that?"

I giggled. "That was me staking my claim. I want your attention focused on me."

He shocked the hell out of me when he stood, offering me his arm, and when I took it he dipped me suddenly, holding me like a feather. The kiss was firm without being harsh, but it was demanding. I couldn't tell you how long he held me like that, or how long we kissed, but when he stood me up, lovingly tucking a stray lock behind my ear, our families were standing there grinning.

"I'd say get a room, but we've already got one. Honey, it's after two, and I've had as much fun as this old body can take. Jeremiah is going to escort me to our suite, be a dear and come along." Mom stopped and looked at her watch. "In about an hour or so."

She giggled like mad as they went towards the elevator, her arm around him. Mom liked to tease, and I knew it wouldn't go past a few kisses or so tonight, but who knows what the future may bring.

The parents and siblings wished us a good night, and followed them. 

...

I managed to get a carafe of coffee brought to the table, and we sipped companionably, talking softly. Occasionally we'd lapse into silence, but it wasn't the awkward silence many people feel. We didn't need to fill the time with needless conversation, content to just be. Be with each other. True lovers, married or otherwise, would know what I meant.

About three-thirty we both started flagging, and I escorted her to her suite. She asked me to come in for just a second and I gladly agreed, wanting to prolong our time together as long as possible.

She disappeared into the bathroom, coming out in a robe a few minutes later, face freshly scrubbed. Sitting beside me on the sofa to talk devolved into a pretty intense makeout session, leaving us both gasping when we broke. She stood, holding out her hand.

"I won't be able to control myself if we don't stop, honey. Time for you to say good night, or more appropriately good morning. I'll see you at brunch."

She walked me to the door, giving me one last kiss. She stepped back, and I started to open the door, when she called to me. She was halfway across the room by then.

"Garth, honey, you've been just perfect tonight. Consider this just the beginning."

She had unbelted the robe, and it dropped of her shoulders as she clutched it to her waist. She stood in a velevty black bustier, with silver lace trim. It rode so low her nipples threatened to pop out any minute. She giggled as my mouth hung open, then blew me a kiss and disappeared into her room. It took a cold shower to calm me enough to sleep.

...

I woke with a smile, remembering last night. I'll remember the look on his face as I dropped the robe. I'd pulled it down as far as I dared. Even though he said there was no such things as boobs too big, I had to wonder what he thought of my 42c sized breasts. My ex had loved them at first, but as we drifted apart he started making fun of my chest, especially to his buddies, often where I could hear him. I cried several times over it before I toughened up and told him the next nasty crack he made I'd return it by talking about his little dick. He shut right up.

Shaking away the bad memories, I smiled again. He'd looked at me like a thirsty man would a pitcher of ice water.

Mom was sitting on the sofa when I came out from my shower, chatting on the phone. "Oh, here she is, back to the land of the living. No, I'll tell her. We'll be waiting."

"Waiting for what?," I asked, as I ran my hands through my wet hair.

"Waiting for your boyfriend and mine to escort us to brunch. They'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes? I couldn't possibly be ready by then. My need to be as perfect as I could be when he saw me was almost manic.

"MOM!" I screamed, running back into the bathroom as she cackled. I'd have to return this favor someday. I achieved a personal best, being ready in twelve minutes, applying the last of my makeup as the knock came.

I had on a sweater dress in a nod to the season, deliberately leaving the top three buttons undone, hoping he'd be interested. Oh, he was indeed, if his eyes were any indication. To his credit, after the first minute he concentrated on my face.

Jeremiah was with him. When we entered the restaurant, his family waved us over. His little sister and I sat beside each other, and we almost ignored everyone as we talked. Deciding we'd like to know each other better, his sister, mother, and one sister decided Mom and I needed a girls night out, to talk about Garth, of course.

Kim laughed as they finalized plans. "We'll give you the scoop on him, by the time we're done, you'll know all his secrets. Of course, fair is fair, and we'll get your Mom to spill yours too."

Mom said it sounded like an excellent idea while I blushed. I almost didn't get to savor the buffet for worrying. You know how mothers could be. His mother surprised me by hugging me tightly, thanking me for bringing him back to his old self.

Finally, it was time to leave. There was three inches of snow on the ground from the storm last night. I was having such a good time I had completely forgotten the weather. Caroline was there in the silver Hummer, the carriage waiting to take Cinderella home.

We had decided not to see each other until the party next week. He was going to pick me up, no limo this time. "I want every second I can get with you," he said as he walked me to the Hummer.

We stood awkwardly for a second, before I mentally said 'screw it', grabbed him, and laid what I hoped was a really hot kiss on him. He must have thought it was, the way his eyes seemed to glaze. I jumped in and we took off before he could recover.

Mom was all over me. "Well?"

"I think secretly he must be a ax wielding serial killer who preys on children and old people. He just have to be as nice as he is to keep it hidden. Still a good kisser, though."

She burst out laughing. "Know what I was thinking when I met him? I was thinking about how pretty my grandbabies were going to be. And big, a whole new generation of Amazons."

I flamed red, but agreed they would be just darling.

...

I got very little work done the next week, which sucked because people buy a lot of cars during the Christmas season. My secretary just laughed and fended off everyone, leaving me a lot of time to think.

She was just too good to be true. I'm sure if I had her investigated all kinds of nasty things would come to light. I decided to ignore such negative thoughts and concentrate on our upcoming date. We still communicated, oddly, by email. She said it gave her a chance to consider her statements, make sure what she wanted to say was understandable. The lawyer in her talking, I suspect.

I picked her up in my Mercedes SUV, fidgeting nervously as I waited for her to appear. Her mother sat beside me, smiling. Finally she reached out and patted my leg.

"Relax, honey. She's just as nervous as you are. Frankly, I think it would take a nuclear holocaust to keep you two from getting together."

I actually did relax, until she leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

"Summer Eve. Such a catching name for a little girl. Think about it." Summer was my mothers' name, Eve hers.

Before I could react Amber flowed into the room. Flowed? It was the only description that fit. Hair upswept into tight curls, diamond studs in her ears, a simple diamond pendant nestled between those perfectly formed mammary glands. Boy, our kids were sure going to get a mouthful. What? Where did that thought come from? I admired her full length gown, dark red with a dangerous slit up the front. She grinned and stuck her leg out, showing me the five inch heels, the silver anklet jingling over her hose. I wanted her so bad I couldn't see straight.

...

The look on his face was worth the torture I went through to fit int this dress. Of course, the stays in my red velvet corset helped a lot. 

I loved his car. "This would make a pretty good mommiemobile," I said, watching his face as i said it. To my surprise he grinned. 

"I'll file that away, should the situation ever occur." Now it was my turn to glow.

He was a smash at the party. I loved watching his face as the associates took turns telling him fart jokes we'd looked up on the internet, but was amazed when our senior partner made his speech, then shocked us all with the most vulgar fart joke I'd ever heard.

"That was for Amber and her new man. You should know by now there are no secrets in this office."

He raised his glass, "To Garth, for bringing our happy Amber back to us. And to Amber, the newest junior partner in the firm. May you find professional and personal success in your lives."

I cried and clung to Garth as I was congratulated. I truly didn't expect to make partner this soon. What could possibly top this evening? A good career and a great man to share it with is about as good as it gets.

I knew what could top it. When we finally said our goodbyes I surprised him by steering towards the elevators instead of the parking lot.

"It isn't the Grove Inn, but they have some really nice suites here as well. Care to check one out with me?"

After about thirty seconds with the classic 'deer in the headlights' look, he couldn't get to the elevators fast enough. She held my arm as she opened the door.

"Gee, this is kind of disappointing, honey. I hope the bedroom looks better. Come on, let's see."

...

I wanted her so bad I couldn't see straight, but there was no way I was going to mess this up by going fast. So I kind of hesitated. Didn't keep me from giving her a bunch of kisses before backing up.

"Are you sure you want this? I'm already kind of in love with you, and I DO NOT want to screw this up."

When I said I was kind of in love with her, tears started flowing. I cuddled her until she pushed me onto the couch, leaning over, giving me a full view of her exquisite cleavage. She grabbed my head and pulled it up until I was looking her in the eyes.

"Eyes up here lover. If you're a good boy I'll let you look at the girls later. If you're really good, touching may occur. Now focus! I know we haven't actually physically known each other for just a few days, but we looked into each others' heart and soul for months through our emails. I KNOW you . You KNOW me. What's about to happen is the end result of two people falling in love. There is no kind of for me. I am in love with you."

She stopped talking, eyes blazing, chest heaving. It was a hell of a sight. Wordlessly, she undid the tie at her waist and shrugged. It fell in a silky pile at her waist.

She was so beautiful it made my eyes water, standing there in a red corset, nipples peeking over the top of the cups. She had a pair of red hose held up by a matching garter belt, one ankle sporting the bells. She raised her foot and shook it, making the bells jingle.

"Well, you gonna ring my bells?"

I was on her like a maniac, hands roaming while I kissed every inch of skin I could reach. It shocked her when I swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, dropping her in the middle of the bed. She told me later she'd never been with a man strong enough to lift her.

I shed my clothes in record time while she lay there, taking me in. I thanked little sis once again for nagging me to go the gym, pleased with the little gasp Amber gave as I lost my underwear.




Stumpy and Olive



"Look at this honey. The cups come off."

She threw the cups away and rubbed and lifted her breasts, pushing them together, offering them to me.

"Wanna play?"

I did, very much indeed. I sucked, nibbled, kissed, gripping her large nipples with my teeth and pulling her breasts straight out. She moaned in appreciation, her hands roaming until she found what she was looking for, grabbing and stroking me furiously. I almost lost it before I removed her hand, diving down, nibbling her thighs as I sought my target.

She was completely shaven, smooth as silk. I licked my way to my target slowly as she arched upwards, grabbing my hair and trying to push me where she wanted me to be. Instead of rushing it, I treated her like the finest and most decadent dessert in the universe, savoring every taste as long as possible before taking another. It was slow, deliberate, and i had her screaming in frustration before I attacked her clit, licking at a furious rate, lightly biting now and then. The foreplay had her ready to explode, adn she came in seconds. I kept going as she moaned, and soon her keening started again. It was a good thing I didn't have a tender head, or I would have been bald before we were done. I was pretty sore for a few days, but never told her.

When she peaked the second time I rose and slid into easily, taking her breath. She was hot as an oven and very tight. Four minutes later she climaxed again, sobbing in pleasure. Five minutes later I exploded, groaning with satisfaction. I collapsed onto her briefly before sliding to the side, cuddling her as she caught her breath. She sighed and went to sleep instantly. I just lay and cuddled her, enjoying her feel and heat. God did I love this woman!

...

It was a planned, deliberate seduction. I know it was too soon. I know I should have waited until we knew each other better. 

But you know what? The hell with that, I was dripping from the moment I met him, and the thought of not having him was driving me crazy.

It went a little better than I expected, right up until the time he said he kind of loved me. It was all over after that statement. He was mine now, forever.

I thought his eye were going to pop when I dropped my very expensive dress on the floor. When I raised my foot and jingled my anklet, I had him.

When he swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom I was amazed, and very pleased. No one had ever swept me off my feet before, and the feeling was overwhelming. I'd never had a man who was so willing to concentrate on just my pleasure before. It could be very addictive.

His tongue! It should be gold plated. We should do a video, "How To Properly Eat Pussy", and release it on the internet. We'd make a fortune.

I didn't get to return the favor, because was on me like like a nuclear missile with heat seeking radar. I came for the third time in just a few minutes, matching as he finally exploded inside me.

He lay on me briefly before sliding off beside me, cuddling me as he got comfortable. I took his wonderful tool in my hand, meaning to do great things to it, but to my embarrassment drifted off to sleep, emotionally and physically overwhelmed.

I think I made it up to him the next morning, attacking his morning erection while he was still asleep. After he finished, I slid up on his chest, surprised when he pulled me up farther for a kiss.

I lay there, listening to his heart slow down, before I asked in a shaky voice, scared to death he didn't feel the same way I did, "What do we do now?"

He rolled me until I was on my back under him, and kissed me until I was wriggling and gasping. He broke, gave me that small grin I grew to love, and answered me.

"Why, we get married and live happily ever after, you silly girl."

...

FIVE YEARS LATER

We still communicated by email. She said it had worked so well she saw no reason to change. I always knew it was important when she started out with 'Stumpy'. I knew it was her, adn I opened it during lunch.

STUMPY!

You bastard! I just got back from the doctor. I'm knocked up again! He said it might be twins. Damn it all, I just got my shape back. And my nipples are just now recovered from See, I swear that girl had teeth at six months. Now get your ass home! You know how horny I get when I'm pregnant. If you're not home in an hour I'm starting without you.

A pissed Olive.

I couldn't help it, tearing up and grinning at the same time. See(a nickname from her initials, S.E., for Summer Eve, of course, that got corrupted to See)was just under three. Looked like we were going to have our hands full for the next eighteen plus years. I shot a message back.

Olive,

You stupid bitch! I've explained to you over and over again how babies are made, and you still want to do it without protection. What did you think was going to happen, you ignorant slut? I'll be home in forty minutes, and you better be naked and ready.

Stumpy

I dashed out of my office, telling my secretary I had to go, there was a family emergency. When I got home there were flowers and candles everywhere, and a naked Amber waiting on the bed. We made love with an urgency that was unusual even for us, then lay basking in the afterglow, crying with happiness.

...

TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER.

It appeared, hovering in the air above my desk, startling me. I still had a hard time accepting I didn't need a screen anymore.

STUMPY!

Get your ass home this minute! The twins are being a handful, at sixteen you's think they would respect their mother more. They just carried me out of the house and threw me in the pool, laughing like hyenas. I guess when you

re six-eight and weigh two twenty-five, each, you can manhandle a poor defenseless little woman like me.

And See just got home, I still can't believe my baby girl is in college. And she says she's in love! Brought him home for us to meet! He's a shrimp honey, he can't be more than five-ten, tops. Get your butt back here and talk some sense into that girl.

I'm hot flashing like hell and my emotions are over the place. Please, honey, I need you.

Olive

I rushed out of my office, starting to talk. They just waved me off. "We know. Family emergency."

I laughed as I drove about the shrimp crack. Em finally found the man of her dreams. and he was a mere six-two, ten inches shorter if she didn't wear heels. He insisted she wear them, to her surprise, because he told her he wanted her to look as sexy as possible, so other guys would eat their hearts out knowing she was his. They had two kids, both girls.

See had topped out at six-four, my height. She could have gone to college on a volleyball scholarship, but declined, knowing we could pay for her education without strain. Her mom had made managing partner, and everybody needs cars, so we did all right. The boys were at sis-six, and still had one more growth spurt to go through. Scouts from six colleges were keeping an eye on them, they were both safeties on their football team. Plus, they were pretty good receivers.

I burst into a strangely quiet house. "Honey, where are you?"

"I'm in here." I followed her voice to the bedroom. She lay on it, in a candy striped bustier, white thigh highs, and a smile. Even in her fifties, she was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.

"Where are the kids?" I asked as I shed my clothes.

"I gave them all a hundred bucks each and told them to disappear for at least three hours. Now get over baby, Olive needs some Stumpy lovin'."

Damn I loved this woman!

The End