1 comments/ 6472 views/ 1 favorites Turq Ch. 01 By: FeinmanR Prologue The Real Estate Office was my father's business long before it was mine. In fact, I had little interest in it, beyond the obligatory summers between school terms when I helped around the office to earn extra money I spent my early teen years playing baseball, swimming in the Bay or devouring sports novels from the Book Mobile which came down our street weekly. Later, I would acquire a chemistry set (one of several) with which I made black powder and ignited on my workbench. The sulfurous smoke pouring forth from my workbench soon filled our small house and brought the terror of fire to my mother. Black powder experiments were banished from the house and I began making rockets to launch into the Bay, using spent shotgun shells as the rocket body and mixing the sulfur, charcoal and potassium nitrate in a homemade powder mill, where steel ball bearings and the rotating mill ground the power into a fine mixture. In High School I read Classic books along with an occasional spicy novel (tame by today's standards), played baseball on the High School team and was generally bored in school until Algebra came along. Afterwards, I was hooked on mathematics, later on Physics also. I painstakingly wrote the equations of motions for an electron rotating around a nucleus and spent even more time transferring these equations onto stiff manila colored art paper for display. In hindsight I neglected the well-known effect of a rotating charge which by constantly accelerating radiated light, lost energy and quickly crashed into the nucleus. The math was correct; the physics wrong. None of the Science Fair judges commented on this fault and I won some kind of prize, undeserved in my mind when I later discovered my mistake. A few of my high school teachers inspired me. The algebra and calculus teacher impressed all of us with long, elaborate calculations which filled the blackboards, finally producing an answer just before running out of room to write. He also terrorized us occasionally by loud and stern tirades when we neglected to study. An English teacher seemingly spent more time correcting some of my sentence diagrams than I did doing them in the first place, took personal interest in us and even took some of us to a concert at a College two hours away. He shamed me with his genuine interest in our learning experience. Somehow, I managed to take three years of Latin without learning anything, so the inspiration was spotty and insufficient to carry over into all my classes. I went off to attend the State University and chose a major in Physics. When I somehow became convinced that one had to be a genius to do serious work in physics, I switched to Electrical Engineering and obtained a BSEE degree. I switched back to math and physics in graduate school and was anticipating an academic career when my father suffered a debilitating heart attack and I returned to East Witch to take over the family Real Estate business... at least for a short term. My mother showed little interest in the business, however, and the short term turned into a career, and not the one I had planned either. I married my wife Annie somewhat late...at the age of 25 and we settled quickly into the easiest, most natural experience of my life. I could not imagine such contentment with anyone else. Then, Turq came into my life, only to leave for reasons I won't yet reveal. These are my thoughts from my letters to her after we finally parted. Chapter 1 I hired you to help out in my office. When I interviewed you, you had a cute, somewhat nerdy look with those glasses and I thought you might be good with cameras and computers. I operate a Realty Office where such skills are handy. My wife had been urging me for months to hire someone so I could spend more time at home. You were very good helping around the office, but I began to notice your tight jeans and perky breasts beneath your shirt. Still, you had an innocent almost bookish look so I let you go about your work undisturbed. Since we were together so often, I began to like you a lot. I started wondering about your personal life. Does she have a boyfriend, I wondered...maybe a girlfriend...hmmm maybe both but certainly there must be someone, because you were so attractive and went so far out of your way to help people on the phone and in the office. You were, in fact, a little shy and I began wondering if you were still a virgin? Could that be possible, I thought? It was certainly none of my business. One day you were late coming in and seemed a little rushed. I wondered if you had spent the night with someone and had slept too late. It's none of my business I realized and tried to repress such thoughts. But trying not to think of you made it even worse. Damn it, I thought. I'm glad my wife cannot read my mind. That made my condition even worse than before. I had not done anything wrong and already I was worrying about my wife finding out. What the hell is wrong with me? I am a grown man and I am having fantasies about this girl. The jeans you often wore started it. Your little butt looked so good with those pants stretched tight across it...so round and firm with a narrow waist accenting your shape. Your work didn't help either. You had to search file cabinets, sometimes bending over. If your back was toward me, I looked at your perfect little bottom...so inviting. If you were facing me, I sometimes saw your pants stretched tight between your legs and this little "V" area began to attract my attention. I wondered what kind of panties you wore...what color. Once you wore a skirt and I'm positive I got a glimpse of your panties when you sat on the floor to look thru some files. Now, to say I was obsessed with you would have been misleading. You were a welcome asset to the office and I certainly enjoyed watching you from time to time. Smitten is a better word; our relationship was friendly but I was older than you. Knowing that younger women often did not have the maturity to keep emotional balance, I did not want to threaten my marriage with an affair that might grow out of control. I noticed your people skills quite early. You were invariably polite to customers and went out of your way to help people, especially the young couples looking for their first house. I began to give you extra work, such as driving around taking pictures of newly listed properties. You bounced in and out of the office during the day like a kid, always with a smile on your face, lugging your camera over your shoulder and smiling goodbyes at everyone. Freed from the duty of taking my own property pictures, I was able to keep up with my work. You kind of bopped into the office in the mornings, did the needed paperwork and bopped out again, but always with that quick smile and a "see ya later" wave as you lugged this large bag thru the door, always banging it with your shoulder to open it. You were like a sprite, a Peter Pan of a girl. You wore jeans almost exclusively then because of your outside duties and often my only memory of you was this small young lady, that enormous camera bag and a cute little ass flitting out. Weeks passed in this way without incident. It was a sunny fall day and I had just finished my coffee at a local diner when I caught a glimpse of you across the street. At first, I thought you were a boy, because your jacket was something a boy might wear, like a plaid or maybe a flannel quilted shirt and with a knit hat pulled down to your ears. Your pants gave you away. Boys don't have butts like that. I paid the bill quickly and stepped out into the chilly air in time to see you duck into a Homeless Shelter down the street. Now I admit to curiosity as to why you were there, so I found a bench at a nearby bus stop, sat down and waited. The fall sun was low in the sky and the air nippy. I pulled the collar of my coat up high on my neck, put my hands in the coat pockets and sat there waiting. I didn't wait long, maybe ten minutes, when I saw you leave, walking away from my direction and soon turning a corner, you were gone. Blowing yellow and red leaves hit me as I hurried across the street and entered the Shelter, a blast of warm humid air, the smell of soup and stale bodies greeting me. Approximately six people were seated at long tables, spooning soup into their mouths, only one or two barely looking up as I passed their tables. The tables were covered with Formica of a faded yellow and the chairs were the metal folding kind, often found in schools and churches, painted grey or brown... not an attractive place to eat, but the soup smelled good. A young black man was loading dishes into a washer in the back and I went up to the only other person not seated and eating soup. I learned from him that you came in every couple of weeks and gave the customers cash from your own pocket, usually about fifty dollars and then you left. I was puzzled. Why would you give perfect strangers money, I wondered? Evidently, you had done it before. Charity of course, but most people are satisfied to write a check to a Charity or drop change into a kettle. But you did it personally and it was this difference that caused me to think there was a layer of personality beneath what I had seen. I wanted to know more and it was this intent to know more about you that started changing our relationship forever. On the following Monday the trap was sprung, not knowingly by my hand though and certainly not by yours. Those people who believe in fate would ascribe events that followed as inevitable clockwork of an unknown force. Romantics would point to Cupid and his gentle arrow of innocent passion. I believe we each had a hand in setting the trap, unknowing of the consequences and for our own reasons. Each trap by itself was of little importance in the events that followed, but together we moved our relationship forward and small events combined to seal us together. For my part I blame sexual attraction first, the lure a young woman has to an older man. Nature is to blame for this. She turns a young girl into a sexual woman attractive to all men, young and old alike to ensure species survival. So, I don't apologize for watching you. I took joy in it. I watched your quick smile, sometimes catching my breath as its sudden light flashed and hit me in the chest. I watched your grace as you moved around the office, balancing files in your arms as you closed a drawer with one foot, a wooden pencil often held between your teeth, movements that only a young woman can make. I watched your body, a shirt stretched tight across your breasts so pert as you leaned backwards. I watched your bottom as it moved beneath your jeans in a simple walk, a natural sway to your hips, causing your round little cheeks to move so enticingly that I had to stop what I was doing and watch. I watched your face for its girlish, unconscious animations and smiled at nature's trick which made you so appealing. Your somewhat nerdy appearance combined with your habit of wearing flannel shirts gave you a tomboy look, belied by your physical attractions. I watched your generosity as you helped everyone in the office, often volunteering to fetch lunch from a local carryout even in bad weather. In truth, I watched you a lot as the trap sat somewhere in my mind, precariously balanced. For your part I can still only speculate. I imagined your boyfriends as fumbling, lustful and possessive in their youth, too immature to fathom your special needs. I imagined your girlfriends, if you had any, as timid and uncertain in their sexuality, flighty and overly dramatic. I imagined you as wanting the experience, stability and maturity of a man, wanting to know your innermost thoughts, feelings and ambitions. I speculated a lot of things. With hindsight I know now that your trap was also just balanced, waiting to trip. I could never have predicted the course we were to follow. I was late getting to work. As my car rolled into the parking lot, I saw your little jeep, already parked a little crooked in its space. My heart skipped a beat and I caught my breath. Whoa, I thought to myself. What is going on here? Emotion flooded my chest and I found myself nervous suddenly. Now, this was something I had not experienced for years. I was as if a giant hand reached down and squeezed me with its fingers. I was momentarily scared I was having a heart attack. I can imagine you smiling as you read this and of course there was no heart attack. I sat there unwilling to move. When I did, it was with unsteady legs as I entered the office. Now, if you think this was the springing of the trap, let me remind you of what happened next. And don't pretend you don't remember because we talked about it weeks later. This moment was not the springing of the trap but a mere warning rumble of a coming earthquake. The familiarity of the office started my daily routine... briefcase dumped on my desk, coat hung on a hook and a hot cup of coffee, courtesy of whoever came in first that day. Then, no longer protected by routine, I looked for you in one of the hall offices and found you at a conference room table. You were thumbing thru a magazine, turning stubborn pages by wetting you index finger between your lips with a little suck. Your head turned as you sensed my presence and my brain snapped a photograph of you, my darling that still lasts to this day. How many times in the coming years did I view that image, simply by letting my attention wander? You will never see it, of course. I caught you with lips slightly open, the tip of your pink tongue just visible as you wet your finger. Our eyes met and we both froze. Seconds passed long after propriety would have been to look away; yet our gaze persisted. Then, you stuck your index finger back between your lips, withdrew it slowly and smiled. Both traps shut and from that moment on our lives were intertwined as were our limbs when we could manage it. I don't even remember walking toward you; maybe I levitated or maybe even space stopped existing, but suddenly there was no room between us. Our lips met in a frantic kiss; our bodies seemed to flow together so there was no space between, my leg between yours pressing against you. I felt your breasts as two pressure points against my chest, soft yet firm. My hands were all over you bottom, squeezing those shapely cheeks that I had stared at all these months and I became instantly hard. I know you felt that. You could not have failed to do so. Our tongues met and danced together. I can still smell the scent of your hair, another one of natures tricks...the scent encoded somehow in my brain different from the images and magically arousing me as I pass another woman on the street with the same shampoo scent. What seemed timeless probably lasted only a couple of minutes and we unwrapped ourselves from each other. I finally managed two deep breaths with eyes closed. "Whew, God" was all I think I managed to say and when I opened my eyes, you were gone. So that, my little communist, was how the traps closed. Even to this day, years after that chance encounter, the memory is still vivid. I didn't see you for the rest of the day. For my part, I scarcely remember how I filled that day. I did no work. I remember numerous cups of coffee; I remember wandering the office and a strange look from Dottie, our timeless Receptionist and Bookkeeper. I revisited the conference room, as if seeking evidence of our encounter, and found it in the magazines you had left there and your chair, a long way from the table where I had pushed it to get at you. From a window I even imagined the phantom outline of your jeep. Near the end of the day an email from you popped up on my computer, apologizing for your absence and speaking of some forgotten personal commitment, ending with a "See you later" and a smiley face. "No problem", I replied but I included several smiley faces in my haste to touch you again in some way, instantly regretting this slight advancement in our affair. Shouldn't I think more about this, I asked myself? It was too late, of course and I was glad. I read and re-read your email, savoring the few words, each time replacing the smiley face with an image of your own smile. I spent the next three days out of town at a Realtor Symposium on changes in license law, appraisal requirements, truth-in-lending and other dry subjects, peculiar to my business. Each day I checked my email for a message from you but received none. The following day was a Friday, your flex time day off and tired from the trip, I stayed home also. Thus, the workweek passed without incident and another bright sunny fall day greeted the town on Saturday. I was up and out of bed early, started the coffee dripping and sat down at the computer. Sunlight streamed thru the window and I felt good and well rested from my trip. While the computer was booting up, I stole a half cup of coffee from the still-dripping machine. Checking email, my thoughts turned to you yet again and I re-read your last message, although by this time I had it memorized. Images of our encounter flooded my mind. My stomach seemed to drop as if falling and sudden warmth spread throughout my chest. I wanted to see you and Monday was an eternity away. "If you're downtown this morning, how about a cup of coffee at Mary's?" I typed. And then I hit the send button before I could change my mind. I waited, wondering if you were up yet, what you might be wearing and if I would even get a reply. I was reading the news when my email popped up. "Meet me on yahoo", your message said and gave me your identity. It didn't occur to me to keep a chat log. I'm glad I didn't because I would have worried someone would see it. I remember saying I was thinking of you and you replied you were glad I was. "How could I not be?" I asked and your reply was a smile. "I hope you're not sorry." "No, I was wondering if you even noticed me most of the time" "How could I not?" "Smiley face", you typed. "You stir me up a bit." "Another smiley face from you and "Oh...how is that...Boss?" "Those jeans you wear maybe." "Glad you noticed" and another smiley face, courtesy of Yahoo "You are huh?" "Of course," you typed. "Wow, Sweetie" was all I could think of. It was in such a way that I drew you further into my life. We met for coffee, but I barely remember what we talked about. Leaving the diner, we just walked together, barely talking. At the edge of town is a small park and I sat on a bench. Instead of sitting beside me, you sat on the ground, your back against my knees. It was impossible not to touch you. I massaged your shoulders thru your jacket and felt your body stiffen and then relax. My fingers found the back and sides of your neck and I gently and nervously let them wander around on your warm skin. Your back arched and we both took deep breaths. Leaning forward, I kissed your hair and saw your eyes close. I felt flushed, my body hot all over, despite the cool wind. We were silent, at least as far as words go, but I could hear your breathing as I could my own. How long we sat there I cannot say. I better get going...errands to run and the car dealer parts people quit at noon," I finally managed to say. "I would like to stay forever." "Me too," you replied. Saturday passed but I barely remember the rest of the day. In the evening, I went back to Yahoo and just stared at the screen. Finally, I logged in, sent a "Hello" off in your direction and just waited. To say we became lovers that day in the park is a slight exaggeration. Before that Saturday, either of us could have retreated. After that day, the affair was still just balanced on the edge. It had become physical in a tentative, fumbling, tender way. It would take the sharing of our thoughts to open the door further. That evening on Yahoo would change us forever. Turq Ch. 01 I stared at the screen for a long time, wondering if I should call you. Fantasy filled my head as I daydreamed...memories of you flashed into mind, your back touching my knees in the park, the scent of your hair, the feel of you jacket beneath my fingers. I dreamed of taking you clothes off, fantasizing about your breasts and nipples. I stopped. "God, this is getting bad now" I thought. "What is there about this girl that causes me, an adult man to lose such control over my thoughts?" I wondered. Warmth filled my chest and I felt a stirring between my legs...not for the first time of course. "I don't care what happens," I thought and clicked your name in Yahoo. A few seconds later, a smiley face popped up. I fumbled thru hello and how are you greetings, the chilly weather, and the seafood I bought downtown, everything unimportant that kept us online for a while. Finally, I ventured something personal. "I still haven't recovered from this morning," I typed. "Me neither," you replied, with another smiley face. "I keep thinking about you." "I hope so." "Omg Turq...chills down my back now." "Lol, you're in a bad way, Boss" "Yea, I am and you did it to me." A smiley face from you. "Well, you did!" I typed. Another smiley face "You can smile all you want," I replied. "Sorry, I can't help it." We were on Yahoo that night for over an hour...talking about nothing in particular but with double meanings in some of our words and lots of smiley faces. You charmed me. You made me silly and at one point, I even asked you what you were wearing "Short shorts," you answered "In the fall? It's chilly outside," I asked "Yea, my usual stuff is in the dryer at the moment," you replied "Hmm...Never saw you in shorts before," I remarked. "Hold on ...brb," you said. About a minute later I was opening a picture of you. You were lying on a lounge chair, wearing white shorts, a red sleeveless top and a look of surprise on your face. I felt my stomach drop. It was just a simple candid camera type shot, slightly off center as if the taker was in a hurry to catch you before you moved. I just stared at it. "Are you still there, Boss?" finally tore me away. "Thank you, Sweetie...love it!" I finally typed. Sometime in the future I would barely hesitate to tell you my thoughts, but that evening I could not. I would not have dared. I would not have risked offending you at that point. I just would not have let you into my thoughts the way I would later. I could hold you. I could kiss you, as I did in the conference room. I could massage your shoulders and caress your neck as I did on the park bench earlier that day. But to tell you what I was really thinking...to describe the images in my mind was an intimacy I was not prepared to reveal. Only later would I lose this inhibition as we learned together the unimaginable eroticism of sharing out innermost thoughts. I already knew that sex could start with a glance held a couple seconds too long, double meanings to written or spoken words or gentle teasing that said you were in someone's thought and made you wonder how. I knew these things already (as you probably did too) but we had not touched each other deep inside yet. You'll remember how we came to do that, as I do to this day. It was late when we noticed the time, almost simultaneously saying "Wow...look at the clock," and we both logged off. I took one final look at your picture, the boyish hair style, the nerdy glasses, and your mouth partly open in surprise. Your breasts made clear outlines on your shirt, and I wondered if those were outlines of your nipples I saw or an illusion of light and shadow. I gazed at your white shorts the curve of your hips and the V shape between your legs, stretched tight and your bare belly. I became aroused one more and put my hand between my legs, feeling for the head beneath my pants. What miracles does nature work so that a picture can arouse me so much? Finally, I shut the computer off and undressing down to boxers and t-shirt I slid into bed beside my wife, Annie. Almost at once, I felt her stir as she moved closer, pushing her bottom against me in an unmistakable signal of need. Wrapping my arm around her, I pulled her nightgown up to her waist and felt her moist slit beneath her panties. How often had we done this and how easy and natural it had become. Our love-making was varied but that night words were not necessary and we finally collapsed against each other and slid into sleep. She was Annie to me, dressed in blue jeans, Ann to her friends and Annette in a Ball Gown. She was my love and had been since college ended and I started to work. Her smile would light a room and she was mine. I could no longer imagine a life without her, although I had lived some kind of life before we met. And, no, I did not think of you while we made love. Afterwards, I may have and may have felt guilty, but I was too tired for internal battles that night. In the future I would try to come to terms with my conflicts but not then Sunday brought an unseasonable sunshine and warm temperature and Annie and I spent the day together, first in a slow breakfast down town and that afternoon playing golf...almost certainly the last time that year. I thought of you from time to time, but I thought of her too. That night we made love again, the shared companionship making it more urgent and I finally slept with visions of her wonderful pussy in my mind. In these letters I sometimes digress and talk about Annie and you have never complained. We don't often speak of her when we are together, but sometimes you ask about her in our chat sessions. Your acceptance of her made our time together only about us and without the drama I would have expected from someone else. For my part, I expected you to have other lovers and never asked about them. Without jealousy and possessiveness we enjoyed our time spent together and became more than just lovers. We became friends. By some miracle the warm, sunny weather continued into the following week and took advantage of it to take photographs of the town. East Witch is an old whaling own, long abandoned by the whaling ships. Most resident have never even seen one of these old ships, or a whale either. I started near the docks, looking for scenes worth capturing. The seasonal changes in light and shadow and the variety of sail boats made this my favorite part of town for photography. I had been accumulating photos of the local area since inheriting the realty business from my father. This morning the smell of the salt water and rotting wood was particularly strong and I sat at a sidewalk cafe drinking coffee and reflecting on my past. Annie and I had a first date attending the annual boat show here and remembered the cool blustery day we walked up and down the piers ogling the big expensive sailboats. Pretty girls and sailboats just seemed to go together and thoughts of her quickly turned to thoughts of you once more. Pulling out my cell phone I called you and asked you to meet me for lunch right down the street. I took at table at The Warf and waited for you. I caught your eye as soon as you swung the door open and your quick smile gave me butterflies. "Thank you for coming." "I'm glad you asked me." I slid my foot forward to touch yours and felt more butterflies. "Did you pick this restaurant because the tables are small?" you asked with a smile. "Noooo, but they are small, I guess, finally getting your point, I moved my foot up to your ankle. "You're quick today, Turq." "I have to be, working around you", you said with a quick smile. I slopped some coffee out of my cup as you slid your foot up and down my ankle. You were quick with a napkin. "Messy you, Boss!" And so our lunch went. Our feet played together under the table, safe from view by other people. I felt your foot without a shoe and my arousal jumped. Once, I felt your ankles close around mine in a secret embrace. Another time I found your legs together and inserted my foot between your ankles dragging it back and forth slowly and your eyes closed for just a moment as you took a deep breath. There was one moment when my arousal took total control of my helpless body and I could not speak or even hear evidently. "You ok, Boss?" "Oh...Yea," as I began to focus. "It's kinda warm today," you said. "Whew. I think it's getting hot in here." I think I saw your face flush a little. I know we smiled together before you looked away. "I better go back to work. You're paying my salary, you know. I want you to get your money's worth." "Yahoo tonight?" "I think so, Boss." "Will you stop calling me Boss? Call me Fein or Rich." "I will when we're not in the office." I watched you leave with your characteristic banging into the door with you hip. You turned briefly and I caught a smile and a wink thru the plate glass window and you were gone. Half a toasted tuna fish sandwich remained on your plate and I ate it. Leaving a more than adequate tip, I left The Warf and went outside to find more subjects for my camera. The arousal that had built up in the restaurant remained and I was either erect or partially so most of the afternoon. I worked slower than normally, daydreaming occasionally about you, the feel of your feet thru your socks as we played under the table, your quick smile and the way our eyes met and held contact. Finally, I finished taking pictures late that afternoon and returning to the office, I saw an empty spot where your jeep was normally parked. "Where's Turq?" I asked Dottie as I entered. "She took a couple hours off," she replied. For the rest of the day, I busied myself with office chores, returned phone calls and inserted a couple of new residential home photographs into the internet listing service. That evening Yahoo had a message from you when I logged the computer on and I opened it immediately. "I won't be online tonight. I have to meet an old friend. See ya tomorrow." I felt a quick stab of disappointment. "No problem..."I typed, "smiling at you anyway," knowing you wouldn't get the message until later. "See you tomorrow." For a few minutes, I sat in front of the computer pondering this new feeling. She has her own life, of course, I argued with myself. She is young, attractive and has to have boyfriends, I thought. Finally it was "Give her space to live, for Heaven's sake or lose her" and I felt better balanced again. Annie complained of sore muscles from swinging her golf club the day before and heated French Bread Pizzas in the toaster oven and we ate those with a small salad and Moscato for dinner. Eventually, we would talk about our relationships with other people and you would realize that I had no jealousy of your other friends but at that time, I could not understand why. Wouldn't it be more natural to be jealous, at least a little bit? Could it be that I didn't really care about you enough? No I didn't think that was it at all. But the question persisted in my mind. I brought your picture up on the screen and gazed at it. "God, I want you." came again and again into my mind. I imagined you walking fully clothed across the room to lie on the bed, a prelude to taking your clothes off one by one. I imagined what could have followed too. Chapter 2 Several days after our lunch at The Warf, you sent me a picture of a young, brown woman lying on the beach in a bikini. "This is Allie, or Al as I call her," said the email, with nothing else in the way of explanation. Was she just your friend? I wondered, or was she perhaps a lover? The picture was too carefully staged to be a casual snapshot of a friend. The photographer (I assumed you) had carefully centered the woman in the viewfinder. The background was white sand and blue water with no distracting objects usually found in quick snapshots. This was a carefully crafted swimsuit picture of a beautiful girl... taken with admiring hand. It took me a few minutes to realize why you had sent it. I was not neither disappointed nor put off. In fact, it was so easy for me to admire your friend's body. Why not you? I reasoned. But then I began to wonder more about your sexual preferences. You seemed to be attracted by men also. We were not yet lovers. Would we ever be? Despite all the excitement you caused me, I was still happily married and still faithful in body if not completely in spirit. I felt it was still not too late to just call it off. We spent most of Thursday in the Office. I remember you in light-blue jeans and a white top and our eyes meeting in a prolonged gaze. Finally, I drew a smiley face on a yellow sticky note and left it on your desk. My reward was its return with "Me too" written at the bottom. I'm sure my heart skipped a beat. Now, the Office has a small storage room in the rear and a door to the parking lot in the back of the building. Shortly before lunch, I went there, passing your desk as I did. We looked at each other as I entered, closing the door. And I waited...but not for long. As I saw the door knob turn, I moved toward the door and grabbed you as you came in. Our kiss made me dizzy and it did not stop...could not stop. Our hands roamed over each other's body in a hungry embrace. I pressed a leg between yours until there was no spaces between us at all... like trying to pull you inside myself. You felt my arousal, I know, because the press of your hips told me so. I don't even remember finding a box to sit on, but I must have, because I found myself sitting with your legs wrapped around me. I have little idea how long we were there, but I kissed you over and over again until finally I had to stop just to breathe, your head tight against mine, your lips on my neck. We breathed in unison then, our hearts racing. You felt my throbbing and I felt your breasts pushing against my chest. Not a word passed between us but I heard a quick gasp and felt you shudder. Motionless for a few seconds, I let my own desire slacken and move away from the very edge. Never had I felt so close before without falling off the edge...our bodies separated by layers of clothing but still fitting together. Somehow we managed to return to work or at least some imitation of work. Dottie finally asked me if I felt all right and her voice had a faraway sound, like I was hearing her from the bottom of a barrel. I didn't actually possess you that day but I could not have come any closer. I returned home to find Annie raking leaves in the front yard. The fall had been slow coming this year and the trees had lost their leaves at different times. This was maple leaf week and Annie had a pile of yellow-red leaves ready for mulching. The cool air had brought color to her cheeks and I saw her quick smile. "Hi," she said. "Did you get the milk?" "I did. Don't I always?" "No, you don't." "Well, I did today. You coming in? It's chilly out here." "I'll be there in a minute." She was re-raking the same ground with quick stabs of the rake. She kept a clean house...not compulsively neat but clean. I left books around the house like giant fingerprints and she had stacked them here and there, up off the floor and somewhat safe from the dog which had a taste for the glue in the bindings. I poured a cup of coffee and began a second look at the morning newspaper. I didn't even hear the door open or close before she was sliding into a chair opposite me. I lowered the newspaper until I could see her face and she looked up. "What?" she asked. "Oh nothing," I replied. I should have known something was bothering her but I let that moment pass as I had let many others slip away. I could have just talked to her, filling the silence with nothing important but showing her I enjoyed her company. It was always in hindsight that I saw these missed moments. We never fought, never argued and I remember only one time in our entire marriage, when I raised my voice to her. That was while we were trying to hang a heavy door on its hinges and couldn't get coordinated. Marriage to her was the easiest, most natural life I could imagine. Not for a second have I ever regretted it. The easiness of it just lulled me into inattention and a natural tendency to be self-absorbed and quiet did the rest. By the time I met you, I was older, but you've noticed similar behavior...I know. I thought about marrying her the first time I saw her. She was slim, attractive with a girlish ponytail, a quick bright smile that could make my heart skip. She was a people-person and in her enthusiasm she had a habit of leaning towards people while talking. While not classically beautiful, she was very pretty, fresh, cute, and warm and I adored her. We spent some time together almost every evening, often necking in my car parked down the street from her apartment, her place usually not available due to her roommate. My first attempt to possess my sweetheart ended suddenly when I noticed her tears and I pulled her blue jeans back up, kissing away her tears. "I'm afraid you won't respect me," she said. And so I waited for her to come to me and she did one night when her roommate was out of town. Coming out of the bathroom, wearing only a see-thru nightgown, she made our bed from a fold-out sofa while I sat speechless. Later, with arms and legs intertwined, I rolled over onto my back and she said "Please don't turn away." I don't think I ever did again ...at least in bed anyway...and never wanted to at any time. Annie was not my first love. That distinction belongs to Danielle or Dannie. She was a small girl with long dark hair, a perfect f1gure and a teasing, flirting demeanor. I had known her for a couple years as a young teenager when she visited her aunt one summer three houses down the road and walked to the Bay to swim. It was no coincidence that I was often mowing our yard when she appeared, our eyes met and she passed by with a giggle to her girlfriend. I watched her graceful walk with its little wiggle until she was out of sight and was caught in the act once when she unexpectedly turned her head and rewarded my gaze with a smile. She told me years later that both she and her girlfriend had crushes on me and would sometimes wait for the sound of the lawn mower to begin their leisurely trip to the water... because I usually mowed in shorts and no shirt. I was too shy and inexperienced to even join them in a swim and I often wondered years later what opportunities I missed with her that early. But they weren't all missed. One hot Saturday we spent all afternoon fishing in the bay from enormous rocks which the State Park had deliberately dumped to form a 200 foot pier breakwater jutting into the Bay. Balancing fishing poles and tackle boxes we stumbled and slipped our way to the end of the rock pile and sat there for a couple hours fishing. Actually, she fished, I pretended to fish and ogled her every chance I got as we moved so carefully among the rocks. Finally, tired of fishing, with fading daylight and smelling of seaweed and fish and with a few scrapes and bruises from slipping on the rocks, I spread a blanket, lit a camper's candle in a tin can and we slipped arms and legs together for our first kiss. My passion ignited hers, long smoldering from watching her that afternoon and in just a while, we managed to roll ourselves into virtually every possible position so that we learned the feel of each other's body, despite being fully clothed. But when I unsnapped her shorts, she stopped me with her hand, saying, "No, let's do it this way, instead" and moved my hand over between my own legs. I watched while she pulled her zipper down and thrust her hand quickly beneath her panties. I followed suite without a thought, now so aroused I could hardly have stopped. I was familiar with my own orgasms, of course, but had no clue whether a girl could do the same thing or would even want to. Never before had I wanted to stop time itself, as if willing it would make it so. Finally, turning to me, I felt her body tense and become still and her breathing told me she had climaxed. I quickly followed her and we collapsed together. Turq Ch. 01 I felt privileged to have shared those moments and still have the memory of her hand moving in circles beneath her light blue panties. When I went off to the State University, I took her memory with me and I had no shortage of fantasies...with Dannie in the starring role. We had another date during summer vacation, a movie at a drive-in theatre. We necked in the front seat of my old Plymouth and to my surprise, she let me take her shirt and bra off as well as her jeans and pull her panties down to her knees. But I acted more like a boy scout than a boyfriend and probably let that opportunity slip away too. We wrote to each other occasionally while I was at school and on a couple of occasions I managed to burn up a fair amount of an employer's long distance telephone budget calling her. "I'm writing to you lying on the bed wearing the same clothes I did when we went to that Drive-in, she wrote, except this time they are all on...or maybe they aren't...wink." "It's nice you have your own apartment now. I'd give my ... for an apartment of my own" she wrote in another letter. Once her letter arrived with a small school picture, a "SWAK" written on the reverse side and the red lipstick mark of her lips. I was never at ease with her plethora of boyfriends. She was a hostess in an Army Base USO Club, where she got more than her share of male attention and where she evidently planned to meet Mt. Right (in uniform). When she thought I was getting too serious about her once, she told me she liked "go-getters." We continued to see each other from time to time but finally tired of being teased, I almost ignored her for a whole afternoon at an amusement park and it was a long time before we met again. Annie and I had a late Sunday breakfast downtown at our favorite diner, an aluminum and glass building shaped like a big travel trailer, square at one end and streamlined in the back. I'm waiting for pancakes and eggs with bacon. Annie ordered a single scrambled egg, bacon and toast. We are both downing hot coffee. Annie is doing something with her cell phone and I'm reading the Sunday newspaper. "What are doing?" I asked "Checking email and messages. Sandy was gonna send me new pictures of the family and I haven't seen them yet." "I always liked your sister... and her husband too," I said. "His name is Roger." "I knew that. I just couldn't remember it. It's too early in the morning to remember anything," I said. "You're staying up too late on that computer every night. That's your problem. You left it on all night the day before yesterday. I couldn't shut it down right without the password." "The password is real estate. It usually is." "Do you want to go to the Mall?" I asked. "No, not today...the Thrift Store though, and you always like to look for books there" The waitress is spreading plates and saucers on our table. I am starved and start spreading butter on the pancakes before they cool off. Annie is still playing with her cell phone. "Dottie sent me a text", she said. "You mean Dottie from the Office?" "Yea...that Dottie." I wasn't too pleased to hear this news, as you can imagine. "How is your egg? It looks overdone," I asked. "It's fine. Can I have a piece of your pancake and the front page section?" We finished our breakfast and the waitress refilled our coffee cups. We lingered over the coffee and finally left for the Thrift Store. It was like a Salvation Army outlet for used stuff and Annie liked to look for unusual bargains, in a place filled mostly with someone else's junk. I headed for the book section and found a rare treat...a recent physics textbook, one of the Halliday and Resnick versions and only one dollar , over two inches thick. I snatched it up. Later, we sat at the kitchen table, drinking more coffee and emptying plastic bags. The kitchen TV has a Pro football game just beginning. "Do you ever read those books?" Annie asked. "I don't from cover to cover...no...Technical books, I mean. This is a later edition of one I already have. For one dollar, I couldn't resist. Even in a second hand bookstore, it's easily fifty dollars." "I'm not complaining. I just haven't seen you read anything in weeks," she said. "I've just been busy with other things." "And that's my point. I thought when you hired that new girl you would have more time." she said. "You mean Turq?" "If that's her name." "It's short for Turquoise." "That's nice. I'm gonna take a nap and try to get rid of this headache. She gave me a pretend frown and then a quick half smile. I watched her leave the kitchen, staring at her backside as she did. She filled her jeans out better now than years ago, I thought. How many times had I had my hands on that wonderful bottom, I wondered? How many Sunday afternoons have I undressed her on our bed? I felt my arousal grow as a slow ache. Her "headache" told me to leave her alone for the afternoon, whether it was real or not. I did, but memories flooded my mind...lazy afternoons making love here and there...her place...my place...the car parked in some wooded area, our anticipation growing as we drove around looking for a private place. We had discovered that the risk of being seen heightened our arousal. A couple times we came dangerously close to being caught...once in the car in a public parking lot. We were momentarily panicked and covered up in a blanket, burying even our heads. I never asked her what Dottie said in her text message. While Annie slept, I thumbed thru the pages of my new physics book. Boring, you think, because you already told me that. Physics and math too (to some extent) help keep me grounded. All day long I deal with people, it seems. While I generally like most people easily, dealing with them constantly wears me down. As customers, they are always right and I try to adapt to them individually...a personality juggling act that often leaves me emotionally tired. Science doesn't care about personality and opinions. Data that is correctly measured has its own truth, regardless of theories or who does the work. I am always amazed that theories about how physical processes work can often be expressed mathematically and be good enough to send people to the moon and back. These things aren't discovered under rocks. They are products of human intelligence, hard work and a lot of trial and error. I start to pass Annie, still asleep on the couch as I move into another room and stop for a few seconds. Memories come to mind from a few years ago. I start my day with a shower while she makes coffee. Then, she goes back to sleep on the couch while I read the morning newspaper. On some occasions I have sat with her on my last cup of coffee and moved by desire I pulled her nightgown partly up, slipped down beside her and took her, barely awake, her body feeling unusually warm and relaxed as she accepted me into her. But not now. She didn't feel good and she was, in fact, asleep. I didn't have the heart to disturb her just for my own pleasure. But I knew she would accept me if I did. The song "Afternoon Delight" came to mind and I continued into the den where my computer was and turned it on. Opening Yahoo and letting it connect, I wondered whether you were home. Yahoo told me you at least had your computer on and I stared for a while at your name, before opening an Instant Message window with you and typing a simple "Hello." It was a good 20 minutes before I got a reply. "Hi, sorry I away from the computer." "No problem...just curious if you were on the computer." "I was for a while but then started reading a book." "About what, if I may ask?" "It's a romance novel." "About what?" I persisted. "Romance ...silly...Lol." "You said that...sticking my finger in your ribs." "No no...I'm ticklish...stop... Lol. It's about a woman's encounter with a masked stranger. She is at a costume party when she is pulled into a dark room by this stranger. The man kisses her passionately and they begin to make love. That's as far as I got." "But do these things ever really happen?" I asked. "Well, some women have these kinds of fantasies or they wouldn't write the books." "Yea, I guess Turq. But what do the masks and costumes have to do with anything?" "She will probably let her hair down and say and do anything because she can't be recognized. I haven't got that far yet." "Oh...ok... Is this a fantasy for you too?" "I'm reading the book, dear...smile." We continued to chat on Yahoo but didn't return to sexual topics, maybe because I couldn't think of exactly what to say. It was only sometime later that I realized I had missed an opportunity to get closer to you and mentally kicked myself. Don't try to match wits with a woman I thought to myself. You don't have enough ammunition. But, if faint heart ne'er won fair lady, maybe planning and patience will. The seed for an unusual encounter was planted. The beginning of the week brought sunny if cool weather and we both were out of the office quite a bit. I left a sticky note of a heart with Cupid's arrow on your desk and you returned it the following day with a "Me too" written in longhand below it. I sniffed it and wondered if I really did detect a tiny trace of your scent, the same scent detected by my nose receptors weeks ago, converted into electrical impulses by the brain and stored somewhere in my brain...to be reproduced now as a memory of a real scent. How did nature create this wondrous design and how many millions of years did it take? On Wednesday morning I set my plan into operation. First of all, a type-written note...anonymous of course, left on the seat of your jeep. "I've admired you for many months now, never having the right excuse to approach you. I think of you constantly and cannot get your image out of my mind. I am not a stalker or anything like that, so don't worry. I just wanted you to know. Signed by, Your Secret Admirer" Next I bought a cheap cell phone from a display at a drugstore, activated the account, tested the phone by calling the Office and sat over coffee in a diner, planning my seduction. I needed to call you at night, perhaps when you were asleep, taking a chance that your cell phone would wake you. I needed a plan for what I would say and having never done phone sex before, I thought for a long time about how to begin this adventure. The very thought of what I was planning aroused me and I fantasized about you and the delicious things we were headed for. It was far from certain you would leave your phone on or that you would hear it. Also, I worried you might recognize my voice or just not be in a mood to listen to a stranger on the phone. That night, I waited until long after Annie was asleep, parked myself in an easy chair in the den and dialed your number. Your phone rang and rang until I almost hung up. Then I heard your voice, asking who was calling and what time it was. "It's 1:30 AM and this is your Secret Admirer." "You've gotta be kidding...At this hour? Who is this?" "There's a reason for calling you so late, and you'll probably never know who I am." "I'm listening, and it better be good." "Pretend for a minute, Ms. Mammoth. It's so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face. You hear my steps as I approach your bed." "Maybe I'd just scream." "You could, but you don't. You feel my weight as I sit on the edge of the bed. Then, in one quick movement I pull the blanket and sheet down." "I'm still wearing pajamas...Ha-ha." "I don't care. I've wanted you for months. You feel my lips touch yours and you begin to relax. My kisses are quick and tender, barely touching you. I kiss your top lip, your bottom lip, the corner of your mouth...just barely touching before moving." "Umm..Listening." "Your instinct is to kiss back but as you try, I withdraw and kiss you again...always changing." "You're teasing me,"you said. "Oh yes, trying to make you want more and more..." "I do..I am..Oh my!!...arms around your neck." "Feeding on your lips...tongue playing with yours now" Rolling over to pull you on top of me...whispering to you. "Whispering what?" "Whispering all the delightful things I will do to you." "Tell me." And so I do...tell you everything...how your body feels on top of mine...how I have watched you from afar...how aroused you have made me for so long. And I begin to caress you now...feeling every inch of you thru your pajamas. We roll around on the bed...you on top...then me on top. Intertwining arms and legs...prolonging the feelings of urgency till we are breathless and can barely stand the wait. It is almost painful now. And then suddenly you feel the cool air on your body as I pull your pajamas off and we begin again...both naked this time. It being too dark to see you naked anyway, I pull a blanket over us and the warmth returns. It is so hard to hold back...I want you so badly...but I do. I tell you instead and we share our innermost sexual thoughts. Your hands grab mine and press them to your breasts...between your legs... and always you feel my hard shaft pressing against you somewhere. Finally, with a "Now baby...please." I am between your legs and I enter you...the very core of you I have dreamed about so long and feel your legs tighten around my back. We did everything we had ever dreamed about and finally just collapsed into each other's arms and lay there...and with nothing else to want, we were speechless. You dozed off and when you woke, I was gone into the night...still nameless as I knew you wanted it. And did you ever suspect who I was? Maybe you did, but you couldn't know for sure. As I left I wondered if I dare do it again. The thought occurred to me that maybe I wasn't even talking to you. All I knew for sure was that I had dialed the right cell phone number. I didn't sleep at all that night. I made a pot of coffee and had breakfast. My memories of you began merging with the phone fantasy until I could barely tell one from another. Sleep was what I needed most and I left Annie a note that I had gone back to bed. Undressing, I slipped in beside her and was lost for the next half day. Being in no mood to work the afternoon, I called the Office and told Dottie I wouldn't be in today, learning during the call that you were also out the whole day. Dottie was no fool and my spirits sank. Why didn't I think of the possibility we would both be out the day after? It too late to fix now, I thought and went outside to hit some golf balls in the side yard. Winter was here and the NW wind from Canada was in my face and blustery ...too cold to enjoy hitting golf balls for long. The day was just too cold. I couldn't concentrate and the cold golf ball felt like a rock when I hit it a little off center. Entering the kitchen, I found Annie ladling out tomato soup and a pile of grilled cheese sandwiches on a plate. "Bless you for the soup", I said to her. "How can you hit golf balls in this cold? And if you're not feeling well, you shouldn't be outside anyway" "I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep last night so I slept in this morning and called it a day." "Dottie sent a text, asking about you. I said you were asleep" "I think she just learned how to do that and looks for reasons to do it. What else did she say?" Annie was tearing pieces off her chess sandwich before eating them and then sucking the butter of her fingers. "Nothing really. She said the flue must be going around. That girl you hired is not in today either." "Turq" "If that's her name" "It's short for Turquoise." "If you say so." "What is it about her you don't like?" "I think you spend a lot of time with her, is all" "I think I've spent ten minutes with her in the last week. She does a lot of property pictures and outside work and I do the rest. We're seldom together. I had to teach her a lot in the beginning." "I think your girlfriend called this morning" "I don't have any girlfriends...Just you." "She said it was a wrong number. I might get jealous if you have bimbos in the Office." "I don't have bimbos in the Office...or anywhere else," I was quick to add. "I know which side my bread is buttered on," I said, with a smile, I made sure she caught. "And speaking of butter. The grilled cheese tastes like you used real butter." "It is. I know you like it." "You're a sweetheart." "So you say" she said with a quick grin that disappeared a little bit too quickly for my comfort. "I'm gonna take a nap," I said. "Maybe I'll be in later," she replied. I felt a little stir in my stomach hearing that. "Afternoon Delight" came to mind as I lay down on the bed, but I was soon asleep. She woke me later as she lay down, moving her lower body against mine. I acknowledged her by pressing back, but I was soon asleep again. That evening I went downtown to buy King crab clusters at a seafood store and we ate them with cold beer at the kitchen table. "I love these things," you said. "So do I and they're big enough you don't starve to death trying to get the meat out. I've had one beer too many. My head is swimming." "Me too...it doesn't take much. I'm a cheap drunk," you said, smiling. "Careful... or I'll take advantage of you." "You know you can do that anytime you want...well...almost." I waited until we had finished the crabs and tied the shells into a plastic bag for the garbage. Then I took her hand and led her into the bedroom. We undressed quickly and as always I loved to watch her take her clothes off. How many times had we done this exact thing? And yet, I never tired of seeing her nude body. It was familiar in all aspects but never failed to excite me. My T-shirt was the last clothing I removed and I pulled it up over my head slowly and deliberately, giving her a view of my erection from across the bed. As usual, she looked for a few seconds and I pretended not to notice. We knew each other so well, words were often not needed, but the alcohol had its usual effect and I led her into erotic, teasing word-play, my arms wrapped around her from behind until she ached to be touched and grabbed my hand to show me what she wanted. This was one of our bedroom games and she loved it too...being teased to the point of uncontrollable need. That night we were very explicit about what we were feeling and wanted and those short, sharp Anglo-Saxon "four letter words" expressed everything perfectly. Getting inside her head in such moments was such a privilege, I treasured her. Chapter 3 I beat you to work the next morning and started on my first coffee, waiting for you behind my desk. I was determined to do nothing that would tell you for sure it was me on the telephone two nights before. You could be pretty certain it was me but not one hundred percent positive. After all, I could have just asked someone else to call you. In fact there must be several businesses in town which provided pay for phone sex. The germ of an idea began growing in my head when I heard the front door open and a couple of seconds later you were hanging up your coat. You looked at me with just a tiny smile, but I played it straight, trying to act normal and you set about your work. I searched the internet for phone sex providers and found a phone number. A woman answered, of course, but I explained to her I wanted a man to call a woman I knew. She transferred me to a man going by the name "Rock" and I explained to him too what I wanted, gave him a credit card number and sat back to enjoy the show. It wasn't long before Dottie hollered: "Line six, Turq...a man asking for you." I left my chair and went to a gray file cabinet that was in your view, made enough noise opening a drawer to attract your attention and pretended to look through a manila folder while you took your call.