Finding Mr. Wright

"I was that woman who once felt ashamed for my dreams, fantasies, and desires -- until I realized this is my one
 and only conscious experience to feel and breathe life and everything that is included."

-- Helen Edwards

CHAPTER 03

To say I didn't sleep well that night was an understatement. As I tried to rest, my thoughts were everywhere, thinking of this faceless benefactor who said he would teach me about this lifestyle. Was he really who he said, or was he one of the predators he warned me about? What if he was someone who just wanted to find out my identity and blackmail me? He certainly hadn't tried to learn anything about my identity yet, even respecting the fact that I had kept parts of my life secret.

And then, there was the part I didn't tell him about, the part that I didn't have time to realize or discover till I was done with our conversation. During the time we talked, I was actually nervous and excited, and, well, actually a bit aroused. I was actually surprised that this happened. Why would I be aroused from just talking to someone in a chat room? What was happening to me with all of this? Was I falling down a hole I couldn't get out of?

To put it in perspective, my arousal was not with the same level of intensity as it was the other night when I had watched the movie, or as I physically touched myself that night. Instead, this was a more direct, personal experience. Even though there was no name, no picture or description, just words on a screen, it was ever so much more real. I was actually conversing with someone about my very personal and intimate thoughts. With that revelation came both excitement and trepidation. What did I happen to get myself into? Was it too late to get out? Should I? Did I want to?

I awoke the next morning after another fitful rest. Jonathan had left, and I hurried to the computer to see if the message I was so hoping for was there. It wasn't. I just stared at the screen. I actually felt rejected, like a schoolgirl who had just found out her crush didn't like her. Did he forget? Did I say something wrong? Did he have second thoughts? Was I not worth it? Those were the thoughts running through my head as I showered and got dressed.

Work turned out to be as boring as ever, but I trudged through it and made the best of it. I got home before my husband, and though Jonathan didn't leave me a message that he was working late, I thought he might be doing so anyway. I decided to check the site on the odd chance I might have missed the message earlier, or something had gone wrong. Still nothing, no message. Maybe my mysterious benefactor lost interest. I changed into my night clothes and lay down for bed. Yes, it was early, barely 7:00 PM, and I hadn't eaten, but I didn't feel like eating, or doing much else for that matter. I laid down in bed and I was feeling depressed. Again, my thoughts and emotions were all over the place. Why hadn't he written? He said he would! Maybe I should write him. Maybe it was a test, to see if I could be patient, or maybe it was the opposite, to see if I was eager and interested enough to write him back first. Ugh! What should I do? And maybe more importantly, why was this occupying up so much of my focus and interest?

I drifted off into my usual restless sleep. I vaguely remember Jonathan coming in and calling my name, but even though I was half awake, I didn't respond. He eventually laid down in bed and fell asleep himself, not bothering to wake me, or snuggle against me, or even a gentle kiss goodnight. Not that he ever did this, but I noticed it more painfully this night.

When I awoke later in the night, tossing and turning, I was sweating. I didn't remember whatever dream I might have bee having, if I was even having one, but I never sweat like that while I'm sleeping, unless I'm sick. It was definitely out of the norm for me.

I got up and went to our bathroom. I stood in my half of the bathroom, my side of the sink, with all my cosmetics that turned it into my makeshift vanity. I peeled off my cold and damp gown, stepping out of it. I grabbed a towel and dried myself off, but the sticky feeling from the sweat was still there. I sat in front of the sink, just in my panties now, and ran some cool water. I wet the end of the towel and started rubbing it over my body, wetting myself and trying to wash away the feeling of both the dry and wet sweat that covered practically my entire body. I took off my underwear as well, as the sweat seemed to collect between my legs as much as anywhere else.

I was lost in thought and feeling as I did this. The coolness of the wet towel, the shiver of my body as I moved it all over me, the chill of the night air, all had their effect on me. I opened my eyes wide and stood, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked at myself and my body hard, appraising myself. I had shoulder-length blonde hair. My chest was still firm. I had nice breasts, or so I thought at least, not yet showing the signs of age. They weren't gigantic by any means, and I was happy for that. My hips were curvy, and I carried a definite hourglass figure. Not too distorted and curvy, mind you, and definitely a little more around the midsection than I wanted to carry, but still a nice figure, or again, so I thought to myself. Long legs, sexy and shapely hips and butt, my best asset I surmised. Then why? Why did Jonathan no longer have an interest in me? Why did he not want children, or a family with me? Why did this new guy just blow me off and not send a message, even though he promised?

No longer even a bit sleepy, I threw on my robe and went to the office where I kept my laptop. I know... I'll respond to some of those wild posts from men wanting to do things to me. Feeling unwanted and a little down on myself, I thought, "Maybe I'll take some real pictures of myself and send those to them, let them tell me they think I'm beautiful and sexy and worth having." I knew I wouldn't really do it, but the thought was there. As the computer came to life and I logged in to the site, I was thinking about what guys I would respond to when the email page popped up first. There, I saw it. The message I'd been waiting for and didn't think would be sent was there.

"Lisa, I purposefully waited until the last possible moment to send this to you. True to my word, I sent this today as promised, but I waited until 11:59 pm. I have a reason for doing things this way that I want you to think about. How did this make you feel? What were your emotions like? How did it affect you? Think about your answer; ponder it. I don't want you to write and answer me here. I want to meet you and discuss this with you in person. If you want to do this, I expect to hear from you within twenty-four hours. If I do not, then I assume you have no further interest and I will not contact you again."

I was stunned. I sat there staring at the screen, reading and re--reading the message. I felt the arousal coming over me again. As the nervous excitement hit me, I began to digest the possibility of meeting with this man. My first question to myself: do I really want to? Do I want to open this pandora's box, but with the chance of exposing my personal life and my career this way? The surface answer was easy: oh yes, I most certainly want to! The more difficult question was even deeper: should I? That was a harder one. So many things could go wrong. The thought of a predator came to mind. I could be setting myself up for financial blackmail, or worse, a rapist or serial killer. I would have to be very careful. With that thought, I guess I had made up my mind. Just thinking of being careful, and how I would have to stay safe from harm and exposure, meant that I was already contemplating how I wanted to make this happen.

I looked at the screen and hit the message button, replying with a quick message. 'I want to meet and find out more.' I hit send. I could have said just 'yes' or left it at 'I want to meet,' but didn't want to leave it that open. I wanted to let him know that I was the one dictating what this meeting would involve. Nothing physical. I just wanted to learn more, not engage in any contact or sexual play or anything of the sort. On top of that, depending on how he responded, I could decide if I really wanted to go through with it, whether I really and actually would go through with it. I closed the computer and relaxed in my chair, thinking about what I had started, and again, whether I really wanted to open this proverbial pandora's box.

As I relaxed in my chair, I closed my eyes imagining meeting this stranger. Would I find him attractive? Was he some decrepit old geezer looking for a cheap thrill? What if he had bad hygiene, or wasn't even close to being what he said? I pushed all of those thoughts out of my mind, thinking instead to my dream the other night where the faceless man was over me, holding me down, where I was naked spread out before him, my passion rising as he lay over me and I was helpless. In my dream, my legs opened reflexively as he moved between them, pushing himself into me, taking me, making love to me with unbridled abandon.

I was then vaguely aware that I had reclined further in my chair, my robe falling open and exposing my chest and lower body. One hand was already on my breast, lightly grasping it and toying with my nipple, while my other hand moved between my legs, touching myself in my most sensitive spot. I focused on the sensations, the man over me, unknown but gorgeous, holding me down and restraining me, making me feel more alive in that one single moment than every man before him ever had. I continued the fantasy, slowly, as he toyed with me, making my passion and desire for him build. I imagined him unable to resist anymore, finally pushing into me, thrusting into my body, my own passion building as I wrapped my legs around him. And as he did so, my orgasm erupted over my entire body. I clenched my teeth, tensed my body, letting the feeling wash over me. I was far across the house with several closed doors, so I didn't have to hold back like the other night, either in intensity or noise, so I let it all out, a loud exhale of breath that almost sounded like a moan, then the clenching and spasming of my muscles. I focused on the feeling, reveling in the strength and intensity of my climax.

As I recovered and slowly came back to my senses, I thought about this, what I just did, what happened. That's twice in almost as many nights that I have done this. I rarely ever masturbate. I'm not even comfortable saying the word! What's more, I've never done it like this before, and certainly not twice in such a short time, certainly not since I've been married. Wait, married? Thoughts of Jonathan sprang to mind. With a shock, I realized that once again, I had not thought of him. Not during my discussions with my online contact, not during my thoughts of danger or interest in meeting with this unknown person, and not once during my fantasies. I rose from my chair and returned to the bedroom, stopping by the closet to drop off my robe and change into a new gown and put on a fresh pair of underwear. As I drifted off to try to finish another fitful night of sleep, I realized then my time with Jonathan was probably over. It was a deep and sobering thought. My marriage was over. I wondered if Jonathan was having the same feelings about me.

*****

When I awoke the next morning, Jonathan was already up and about to leave. I entered the kitchen as he was walking out. He gave me a quick smile in greeting, which I returned, but neither of us said anything to the other, and he left for work as he always does.

I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down at my computer, sipping the warm drink while quickly checking my online site. As I waited for the system to start, I had a shock as I realized something that had never entered my mind before: where was this man located? Was he even in the same country as me, much less the same state or city? That thought had me a little down as I realized that meeting him might be impossible. Well, I'll just have to wait and see. Maybe a trip across country might be possible if need be, but how to disguise it? It certainly would be very, very difficult. My mind was going through the possibilities, surprised even at how rationally I was thinking about this, when I saw his message in my list. I quickly opened it.

"Good, I'm glad you responded, lisa, though I'm not surprised. Even though we have only spoken through messages, I am getting to know you, and I am a fairly good judge of character. You will be happy to know that we are actually fairly close, living in the same city. There is an outlet mall that I'm sure you are familiar with that is just outside city limits. The food court has a few small restaurants, one of which is a favorite of mine. I would like to take you to lunch at Pascale's and we can talk more. Tell them you are meeting someone in the private room. There is only one. Be there on Friday at 12:30 p.m. If anyone asks, you are going to meet a new potential client. If I do not see you there, I will dine alone. I will presume that you have changed your mind, and I won't bother you any further."

Wow, I thought. So there it is. Close, very close. And Pascale's too! What he so nonchalantly mentioned as a simple lunch meeting was actually one of the most exquisite restaurants around. To get in took reservations a month in advance or more. I couldn't imagine what it took to book their only private room! I suddenly felt both better and worse about this meeting. This man was obviously well off, very wealthy, and very influential too.

As I started to imagine what meeting him would be like, my reality came crashing down around me. I had a court hearing that morning! There was no way I could make that hearing, argue the issues before the judge, go home and change, then make it to Pascale's and be there at any time before 2:00 at the earliest. I was sunk! What could I do?

I thought heavily about this. He didn't ask if I had a conflict. He didn't say anything about a follow up message, or even anything about rescheduling if one or both of us couldn't make it. He would be there... and he expected me to be there as well. I hurriedly dressed and headed out quickly. I had some work to do at the office if I was going to make this happen.

Once at the office, I tried to make it look like it was normal, but I was frantically trying to move things around to free up my Friday morning and afternoon. The hardest part was going to be the court hearing. This hearing had already been rescheduled twice, so it wasn't like I was getting it continued to another date. On top of that, it would take several hours to put on all the evidence so the judge could make her decision.

I began to think more thoroughly about that... was this something I really needed to win? What would happen if we lost? That's when the idea hit me. I called the client and ran it by them first. They agreed, telling me I was "brilliant." Without going into all the details, our side proposed that we would agree to what the opposition wanted, in exchange for limiting the amount of money they could get. In essence, we were forcing them to settle the case, giving in on liability (which we were going to lose anyway in the long run) in exchange for limiting our client's losses. After talking off and on all day and multiple phone calls and conference calls with the opposing side, they agreed. I breathed a sigh of relief. My Friday was now open!

For the next two days, I could barely concentrate on anything else. Every time I wasn't doing something specific, my mind wandered to this man I was going to meet, wondering what he would be like. Even more, I wondered what he would want from me, and whether I would be amenable to it. Every wild and vivid fantasy and fear came to mind, but in the end, I really had no idea what to expect.

One thing I did an immense amount of thinking about was what I was going to wear. How should I appear before this man? Should I go typical conservative dress, like I wear to work, or should I wear something classier and more elegant, something befitting a formal date? It wasn't a date, at least not in a normal sense, so that was out. After much debate and looking through my closet countless times, I gave up and went shopping, deciding on something altogether new. I decided on a twist on the idea of a conservative business suit. The one I found was navy blue, almost black, but rather than a pants suit like I normally wear, it had a pencil skirt instead, which covered my thighs down to just above the knee. The skirt fit me beautifully, accenting my hips and long legs perfectly. However, it was the jacket and blouse that made the outfit. Unlike most, this one wasn't a jacket that buttoned down the front. This one was intentionally opened down the front, with a little flare out at the waist, depending to about mid--hip length. With no buttons on the jacket, it was held firmly against the waist by a matching belt. This further help accent my waistline and enhance my figure, even making my chest look slightly more voluptuous than it really was. I could probably wear something like this to work, but I'd get shocking looks from the other attorneys and staff, as it was definitely not my normal style. For this meeting, though, it was perfect.

When Friday finally came, I decided not to even go into the office. My day was pretty much clear since I had set everything else aside for the hearing, and since that was no longer needed, my day was open. I stayed at home and it took me almost forever to get ready. I took a long relaxing bath, shaving my legs, being careful that I didn't accidentally cut myself in my nervousness. Yes, to say I was nervous was an understatement. I laid out my clothing on the bed and then I realized what I had forgotten. What undergarments should I wear? I could opt for a normal bra and panties, but that just didn't seem to make me feel right? I wanted to look good, but I also found myself wanting to feel a little wild and, well, even a little sexual, even if it was only for me, under my outfit. I dug deep in my hidden drawer of 'unmentionables' and found an old item I had been given at my bachelorette party, but never wore. It was a matching set of lace black panties, bra, garter and stockings. The bra covered my nipples, but the tops of my areola were blatantly obvious. The panties were not thongs, but were skimpy and very erotic and revealing, covering my rear but letting quite a bit hang open below the bottom of the panties so my round shape was on display. I put these on and looked in the mirror, staring at myself for a few minutes. This wasn't lingerie designed for comfort; this was lingerie designed to be seductive. I just stared, enjoying the feeling of looking beautiful and feeling sexy.

I finally finished dressing, paying special attention to my makeup. I was never one to wear a ton of makeup. Quite the contrary, I thought natural beauty always looked best. Better to just cover up blemishes and accent what you have, rather than to cake on makeup and make you into something you are not. I did choose to make sure my eyes were accented a bit more heavily than I normally do. I figured that since we would be eating and talking, he would be looking at my eyes more than anything. I also chose a fairly neutral tone of lipstick, one that enhanced my natural lip color. I actually hated the brilliant, cherry red lipstick that I see so many women wear -- for me, it's just too much.

With that, I was finally ready and left my house, driving myself to the restaurant. The drive wasn't too bad, though in my anxiousness I found myself at the location almost half an hour early. I drove around for a few minutes, killing time, then parked and waited. I walked into the restaurant at exactly 12:30 p.m. I was greeted by two hostesses as I walked in, both probably young college students, and both smiling and welcoming me. When they asked about my reservation, I told them I was meeting someone in the private room. They both smiled and nodded, then one led me to the rear of the restaurant. I followed nervously.