On the Rebound

Tonight is the first time in three months that I have attended the monthly Saturday night mixer that has been a tradition in Portland for almost ten years. The initial group of about fifty people from fraternity affiliations, support of the football team and college groups of all kinds formed right after graduation from the University of Oregon. Over time we've added OSU and PSU members to heckle. We've also have dates and spouses that still come after relationships broke up. I am an original organizing member. The idea was to help us stay in touch and provide friendships as we got lost into the working world.

I missed the last couple of months because of depression and embarrassment. Everyone, except me, knew my wife was screwing around with a couple of guys from the group. When I caught her with one of them in our bed, the entire story came out. I am successful, stupidly trusting and tried to be what she wanted. I was blind, thinking everything was good between us. She left with her lover that night, filed for divorce, sent for her stuff and is now back living with her mother in Ashland. I never liked Ashland, except for the Shakespeare Festival.

Connie and I had dated in college, moved in together when I moved to Portland and we got married two years later. Three years ago, we bought a house, remodeled it and started talking about kids. To me, my brother would say, "You are a dumb ass." The shoe fit perfectly. Tonight, after three drinks, lots of encouragement, support from old buddies and being horny, a tall thin blonde made eye contact with me, smiled and sat with her body pointing toward me while she played with her hair. I checked to make sure there was not some handsome hunk behind me. She sort of laughed with me. That got my courage up and I went to talk to her.

"I'm Tom Gregory. I haven't noticed you at our gatherings before."

"I've been coming to them off and on for a couple of years. You always were preoccupied with your wife. We've never met. I'm Eve Andrews."

"You are younger than most of us old farts."

"I went to college in California, don't tell anyone. Jerry Handson and I dated a couple of years. I think you and I wound up alone about the same time."

I ignored her intro. It hurt. Jerry and I had been fraternity brothers. He was one of the two lovers, I knew for sure, that my ex had. Jerry, Eric Taylor and Connie no longer attended these monthly get-to-gathers. Gracefully I said, "I knew you were too pretty to be one of us rain soaked ducks or beavers, what did you study in California?"

"Nursing. I'm a surgical nurse at OHSU now."

"Pretty, diligent and smart too. Jerry wouldn't appreciate that combination."

She was suddenly quiet and looked into her glass.

"Eve, I'm sorry. Please accept my apology. I want to talk to you and learn about you. My sharp words were directed toward Jerry. I still have some sore spots that lash out once in a while."

"I understand. Jerry and I weren't working out; I should have put an end to things long ago."

For the next two hours we talked, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. I asked her to go around the corner for coffee and dessert after the party grew stale, leaving only those who wanted to hook up for the night. Over a wonderful pastry and coffee too strong for this late at night, I was starting to think this would only be a single night of pleasant conversation. I had asked questions and learned all about her. Everything was one sided.

It was obvious to her that I was about to cut our evening short. Eve struggled to keep the conversation going, "Jerry pointed you out when we went to our first gathering. He was proud of you; he told me your first book was published while you were still in college."

"Yes, I write mindless, entertaining stories for the masses. My professors would not be happy with my contribution to society."

"You write the David Stone mysteries. There are millions of copies out there."

"Thanks for noticing. My ego has not been in good shape for a while."

"Jerry showed me some of the Internet sites where your naughty short stories are posted, under different names, of course."

"Have you read any?"

"We read them together."

"Great, I'm talking to another woman who I titillated into Jerry's arms."

She was quiet, disarmed again by my venomous words. She ventured an honest peace offering, "Your stories got us into the mood. We liked different ones but they gave us some great times. Even with your fantasies, I was not enough for him."

Her words were perfect to draw out my male instincts to protect her, "My God, Eve, I'm an egghead writer and Jerry is a handsome jock. Dumb too, for letting you get away. You're sexy and your body reeks of desirable pheromones. Just sitting close to you, makes me nervous like a sixteen year old boy on his first date. If there is any fault, it would be his and not yours."

"Thank you, Kind Sir."

"I'm being serious. I mean every word. Forget Jerry, do you remember any of my stories that you liked?"

She did not want to open up. I teased, "I should have asked you that question when we were at the party and you were a little tipsy. Now, your mind is in control and you won't tell me the truth. I'll ask you that again next month, if I can entice you to drink something other than late night coffee."

Her answer gave me a strong surge between my legs, "I don't remember the titles, but I remember a long story about a mature Dom training his friend's drug addicted twin daughters and I remember a story about a female boss going home and being controlled by her male employee."

"Are you attracted to the D/s stories?"

"Jerry said they were stupid."

"I did not ask you about Jerry. Sit very still and quiet." I removed one of my shoes and took off the long stretchy over-the-calf sock from my right foot and then put my shoe back on. Her eyes filled with concern and looked around to see if others were watching. It was late. The employees were busy cleaning up. They could close in thirty minutes, at mid-night. There were no other customers. Still we were near the window. I'm sure she felt we were on display for all of Portland. I removed my other shoe to get my second sock.

I stepped behind my beautiful new friend and pulled one of her hands and then the other to tie behind her. I could hear her heart beat. Her neck was flushed. Her breaths were deep causing her lovely full breasts to rise and fall. Her eyes darted about, always glancing back at mine for approval and reassurance. Still behind her, I tied the second stretchy sock around her neck, like a collar, and tucked the ends down the back of her dress.

Her body was throbbing and her eyes told me all I needed to know. "Eve, we both know that you can pull your hands free, but don't. Be bound for me. Be helpless for me."

I fed her a bite of the Bavarian cream filling from her pastry, making sure some of it stayed on her lips, "Leave that for me."

I sat back down but leaned close to her. I licked the cream away and kissed her deeply, pushing my tongue past her lips and teased along her gums. Her eyes were closed. I kept the fantasy going by whispering, "You are wearing my collar; you are mine. Give me your tongue so I can taste your wetness."

She gave and I took from her. Her neck arched toward me as I pulled away. I hooked a finger into her collar, pulled and whispered again, "Your submission is a great gift. You have me wanting you. Wanting to see your body fly higher and higher as you struggle against your bindings; wanting to taste you and drink the sweet wetness from your womb; wanting to watch your eyes and body convulse in climax on my lips and tongue."

I stood and put more than enough money on the table to cover our tab. Her eyes questioned me. My throbbing hard tent was inches from her face. "Tonight you can question me about everything except our sex play. In that, you will follow without question."

I helped her up and carried her coat and purse, so her tied hands and collared neck would be exposed to the world. We made it just outside the door onto the busy lighted street. I leaned into her, sucked her ear lobe and let my breath tickle into her ear as I asked her, "Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?"

Of course, she did not answer. Of course, she knew. We were strangers only a few hours ago, but this was exciting fantasy; she needed to play. I continued to confess to her, "I am mad wanting to push my fingers into your wet pussy. I want to stand right here and lick your slipperiness from my hand. I want to refill my fingers in you and push them between our lips so we can kiss and fight for your taste."

Eve's body shuttered. Before it could stop, I stood blocking the world's view and discretely rolled her left nipple gently between my thumb and forefinger. She held her breath. I kissed her; waited; sucked her exhaling breath deep into my lungs. Our kiss grew hotter. When my demanding touch moved to her other nipple, she licked inside my mouth and filled her body with my exhaling breath. I paused my rolling digits; she waited, perfectly still; she was wondering what I would do next. I tightened my grip just enough to give her a little pain. Eve's hips pushed forward into mine. Her tongue licked at mine. We kissed hotly for a couple of minutes while she grew accustomed to my tight grip on her nipple. She pushed her breast into my hand and for just a second, I squeezed the nipple hard enough to give her one sharp pain. She moaned and I caught her when her knees did not hold her weight any more.

For that one moment, she would take any direction; if only, we had been alone, in my warm house. I put her coat over her shoulders and began to guide her toward where she had told me she parked her car. As her mind cleared, I knew she felt threatened and feared the rest of the night.

I opened her purse, retrieved her keys with the fob that opened her new Accord. I unlocked her car and backed her tightly against the driver's door. I reached behind her, untied her hands but held them. I thrust hard into her, literally lifting her. Her body crushed into the car and her eyes were filled with passion and fear, looking deeply into mine. My hips moved so my cock dug into her soft, hot belly.

"Eve, you have stolen my mind and my judgment tonight. I am a dominant, very oral male. My card is tucked under your sub's collar. At least, you were mine for a little play tonight. I would like to see you again. I do not have your number. You have to decide, if you can risk so much; if you want to see me again; if you want to explore your submission. You have read my stories. When you dream, remember, for your body and your fantasies, they are all true."

I turned her toward her car but then my body took over from my mind. I pushed her over the hood of her car and thrust hard against her ass. The panting, animal groan from deep in my throat would have to be my apology. "Get into your car, before I take you right here. Can you feel my need?"

"Yes."

Just before I closed her door, I risked a question, "Would you have liked it, if I had taken you a minute ago?"

She needed protection. She needed to be away from my madness. She needed to be away from what had never happened in her life before. She slammed the car door; the doors locked; she cranked the engine. I felt the car go into gear but her foot was on the break. The window eased down about two inches. She shouted one word when the car lurched away, "Yes!"

I wrote and kept my mind from thinking about Eve. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, she did not call. Wednesday night I looked down at my cock after three rum and cokes and talked to it, "Just you and me. How about some porn tonight? Surely you can cum a couple of times and I can sleep most of the night." He did cum but I did not sleep much.

Thursday morning, I had a delightful, strange email, "I need to impress my boss. Trying to get senior OR nurse position. Seven p.m. Saturday night, will you be my dinner date at my boss' house? Make me look good as my friend, the famous author. Sorry for not calling. Very confusing night. I'm using you to get a job I should have had a year ago. I'll understand, if you say "No."

My answer was short and sweet, "I'll allow you to use me. When I stand next to you, I'll try not to drool. Don't worry; I clean up fine for public consumption. Tell me where."

I kept looking at our hostess, Mrs. Dr. Raymond Collins. I knew her. All through dinner, I kept trying to place her. Finally, I did. Her extra thirty pounds, her jewelry, her haughty, superior attitude and her command of her dining room had confused me. One suggestive movement toward her maid brought it all back. Mary Heston was an assistant professor at Oregon while I was a student. She had a reputation of getting pretty girls to lick her pussy until she screamed. Word was that she screamed a lot. The girl, who took my virginity in my freshman year, had improved her grade by being a good "Heston licker." I knew Mrs. Dr. Raymond Collins was a dominant woman but she had not run into me since I matured. She kept all her guests in their lowly places through the well orchestrated dinner, pleasantly referencing our meager accomplishments, compared to her great accomplishment of marrying the now director of surgery of one of the western world's best university teaching hospitals.

The dinner was breaking up when I had a chance to corner Mrs. Dr. Raymond Collins, "How wonderful to see you again. In Eugene, my first girlfriend used to tend to your dominant demanding basic needs. I think you gave her extra credit because her tongue was so articulate."

I had never seen a more shocked look. Eve started to race to repair the damage, she feared, I had done. I motioned for her to stay away. She did.

I whispered to our hostess, "Mrs. Collins, as a writer, I hope you will tell me how you've changed your nature. Dr. Collins is brilliant but is obviously an unsatisfied submissive. To help you two be happy, should I send you a strap-on for you to stretch his ass? You'd like that, at least for old time's sake."

Mary was frozen in her tracks. I helped her, "No one knows, except me. I have a request. Get your man to promote Eve and I'll send you that strap-on to make him scream and I'll also make sure you have a discrete female to lick you until you pass out. My card is in the tray on your receiving table."

Mary Collins called me the next day, "What do you want?"

"Only what I said. Mary, I already have wealth and fame. I want to help a smart, qualified friend, who is caught up in hospital politics. She knows nothing about this. Just do what I asked; I'll never say another word. I still resent having to hold Janice Simmons when she cried after she had to service you. Fuck your husband hard. He needs it and so do you. Threat him like you did Janice; he will be even more successful for you. I know what I'm talking about and I don't live in a judgmental glass fish bowl like you and your husband do."

I had a book tour that started two weeks after the Collins' dinner party. Eve was scared to death by what she thought I had done. She was told that week that her promotion would be effective in three weeks. I told Mrs. Collins how to get into my house on the days the servants were off. She would have only one servant while at my house; Mitzi is a pure sub who likes a little pain and the taste of a woman. She and Mrs. Collins became great friends. After a couple of years, Mitzi became Mrs. Collin's personal assistant. I have often imagined Mitzi's small fist crammed so far up Mary that her forearm was squeezed by Mrs. Dr. Collins' orgasms. I've heard Dr. Collins smiles a lot these days; he has been promoted to head of the hospital, even though, he walks like he has a large butt plug up his ass.

I returned from my book tour. One night stands are not my style and I can't advertise my dominant ways or oral desires. It would be too easy for some talkative, money grubbing female to take me into the tabloids and hurt my book sales, or even derail my pending first movie based on one of my books. I guess I lied to Mrs. Collins; I too live in a fish bowl. I like Amazon. No book tours or fronts for the public. Electronic book sales are the future. We had worked together so my stories met their criteria for now and the future. I make just as much at $9.99 on-line as I do at $29.95 hardback and a hell of a lot more than $4.95 soft cover off the grocery store racks. I like how they took the lead pushing my tales into foreign translations. I am anxious to hear my first audio release read by a gifted voice. All these thoughts hovered in the back of my mind as I wrote and still had not heard from Eve.

After Eve settled into her new job, I got a simple text, "Did U have anything to do with my promotion?"

I emailed her back and ignored her question, "So wonderful to hear from you after all this time. I miss talking to you and, of course, I miss the promising tease of your enticing body. I truly believe, someday, we will get to explore some of our mutual interests. I'm very happy to hear that you got promoted. My book sales are doing well and I have a new contract too. Would love to have dinner with you but that is your call. I seem to offend you when I only want to please you and have you care about me."

Text: "I care."

Text back: "Mexican? Ixtapa, 1 p.m. Sat. So we will be offensive to each other by 5 p.m."

Text: "See U then."

I had three strawberry margaritas served to her immediately after she arrived. I had been there for fifteen minutes.

"Three drinks?"

"I told you at the last party that I wanted you tipsy and compliant to my desires."

"Just what are your desires?"

"I have to taste you first; your wetness will determine my answer."

Eve was smart; she let that drop and did not try to respond. For two hours, we talked drank and caught up. I invited her, "Meet me at 7:30 next Saturday morning at the Rose Garden. I have to open the gates for the Rose Festival."

"Why so early?"

"I'm only a minor celebrity. Maybe in a few years, I'll get to host an evening event."

She laughed. Her breasts jiggled. She had to be near her period. Her pheromones were driving me crazy. She knew and backed off.

"Can't Saturday; how about a rain check?"

"I don't know if I've been shot down or delayed. You call it. When you can spend some time with me, call me. I like to go to the zoo, the art museum, movies, restaurants and cook at home. I would like to cook with you. However, I'm going to quit pressuring, teasing and bugging you."

Eve did not miss the double meaning. I was tired of the chase and the hidden agenda in our possible relationship. I am too open and she is reserved. She must think her desires are taboo. I was happy that I was able to help her career along. However, I was lonely and needed to find someone who could accept my baggage and still want to be with me.

Eve did not attend the next monthly party of our still growing Mudders Booster Club, but the evening gave me Helen. She had been with Don Dillon since I met him three years ago in 2007 at another monthly party. Those had been good days for me; days when I thought I was happily married. I went out onto the large patio of the high-rise hotel's fifth floor ballroom. We had rented a small section of it for our foray. In the darkness, I heard Don talking angrily at Helen. He was hovering over her small, thin frame. She was sitting, cowering, looking down and her brown mousey hair hung over her face. He was working himself up and getting louder and angrier. I was about to go back inside when I heard him say, "What do I have to do to make you move out, you dependent bitch?" With those words, this muscular, drunk, two-hundred pound man kicked his date under her right thigh just above her knee with all his might. Her body literally lifted off the chaise lounge and she curled in a defensive ball when she landed.