"I think you should go. You'll enjoy yourself." Mom sat on the couch sipping a cup of coffee.
"Class reunions are a cliché, Mom."
"Still, it will be interesting to see how people turned out."
"These people weren't interesting in high school. What makes you think they've gotten better?"
"Well, in thirty years they've experienced life, and that always changes people, for the good or bad. Besides, what else would you be doing on Saturday night?" I gave her a look that silently said you don't have to remind me I have no social life.
So, there I was, parking my car and walking into a reception room at the Holiday Inn. Just as I suspected, people were gathered in little clusters around the room. The groups seemed to be made up of the same people who hung out together in high school. Looking around I could pick out the jocks, the brainy kids, and ones in the in-crowd who always thought they were so cool. I ordered a drink from the bar just to have something in my hands. I never thought of myself as a loner, but I never fit into those groups, either. My best friend, Marla, and I were inseparable all through school. But I knew she's in Texas, and wouldn't even expect her to come home for this.
I heard a quiet commotion over by the door. Guys were hitting each other on the back, glad to see each other after so long. But then they seemed to break off into a couple groups.
I turned my attention to a movement in the corner of my eye. I couldn't believe it. There was Bud Whittington! Walking toward me with his crooked smile and eyes that looked right through me.
"Karen! I'm so glad to see you. I didn't think you'd come to this."
"Yeah, well, I really didn't think you'd show up. You never went to a high school function in your life."
"Nothing else to do on a Saturday night. I thought it might be fun to see these people older. Could I get you a drink?"
"No, thanks, I'm still nursing this one." We sipped our drinks quietly looking at each other. We shared a locker for three years in school. He was what the 'good girls' called a Hood. They always acted like I was taking my life in my hands just talking to him and sharing a locker with him was something none of them would ever be caught dead doing. But he was always a perfect gentleman to me. And I bet I'm the only one in the room who knows his name is Francis Frederick.
"Would you like another drink?" He broke into my thoughts. "Not really. I wasn't really planning on staying."
"Me, either. I've already seen who I came to see." There was that crooked smile again and I actually felt like I was blushing. "Surely you can't mean me? Why, we shared a locker, but you never even asked me out."
"I didn't want to ruin your reputation. It was bad enough you talked to me. I couldn't give those goody-two-shoes any more ammunition. But I always wanted to."
Without acknowledging it, we were walking out the door together, across the parking lot and I stopped at my car. He said, "You realize everyone saw us leave together." A lock of hair was falling across his forehead as he smiled and touched my hand. I smiled and said, "I'm not a teenager anymore, and I'm beyond caring what anybody thinks. Where's your car?"
"I walked, I only live down the street a few blocks. Want to come up and see my place?" Now that was the boldest invitation I've had in years. But, just thinking about leaving him here and driving back to my dreary place alone seemed too depressing to think about. "Ok," He almost looked surprised, but then got into the other side of my car and gave me directions.
He stopped me at the side of a nice, large apartment building. Opened the car door for me and led me upstairs.
When he opened the door for me. I guess I shouldn't say I was amazed it was so clean. Guess I always bought into the myth that men were slobs. The kitchen was spotless. He asked if I'd like a drink and I said sure. He made drinks and I went into the living room, which is really the other part of this one large room. I sat on the couch and asked if I could take off my shoes, they're killing me.
"Of course, and anything else that's uncomfortable."
"Ok, my bra certainly falls into that category." But rather than take it off, just reached back and unhooked it. He sat next to me, put his arm around me and gave me the sweetest, most luscious kisses. Meanwhile, he's unbuttoning my blouse.
Now, if I were still a teenager, I'd be alarmed at this point, but while I haven't had sex in some time, I'm beyond being freaked out over this assumption of intimacy. His hands were all over my breasts, but it did feel good. They haven't had this much attention in a while, and they loved it.
He was running his hand over and across the hardened nipples. My blouse came off, and he stood taking my hand and led me to the bedroom where we kissed some more. I slipped into the adjoining bath to remove my skirt and hose. When I returned to the bedroom naked, I was surprised to see him sitting up against the headboard. I sat on his right, and just looked at him questioningly.
"Have you ever noticed how much a spanking enhances sex?"
"Ah, no, I don't think I've ever really thought about it."
"You mean, no one's ever spanked you?"
"Well, when I was a kid, but no, not since then."
"My ex wife used to love it, and it got so I wouldn't even think of fucking her without giving her a nice spanking to warm her bottom and make her pussy wet."
