A Man of No Importance

"You must be joking," I said. "You want me to drive all the way to San Francisco just for a dance? You do realize, Kenny, that that's close to an hour and half drive from here?"

"Come on, Mike," Kenny responded. "Live a little. There will be lots of women there. You need to stop living in your cocoon and get out. How many times are you going to spend the weekend watching sports? You must have 50 tapes full of old college football games. That's like not normal, man."

"I like my life the way it is," I said. "I'm happy living on my own, in an admittedly small place but I own it free and clear. But... I suppose it is a 3-day weekend, and going to a dance Friday night couldn't hurt anything."

"You'll have a good time," laughed Kenny. "Mike, you've forgotten how cool the world is. Maybe you can hook up."

"I'm not looking for a one-nighter," I grinned back, "but we'll just have to see what happens."

Kenny was right about one thing: the dance had more women than men. I didn't find any particular chemistry with anyone I danced with, but I did my share. I was taking a break from the dance floor and looking over at the bar, trying to decide what they had that was non-alcoholic [I had to drive myself back] that would be appealing, when I saw something suspicious-looking. Two guys were talking with their heads almost touching, and I thought I saw an eyedropper squirt something into a drink. When one of the guys presented the drink to a woman, I decided to observe extremely carefully.

The woman downed the drink. A few minutes later, she got up from the bar looking sick and dizzy. After she emerged from the women's restroom, I got ahold of her before she could head back to the bar. I suggested some fresh air would do her good, as she didn't look well. We had barely made it outside when her eyes glazed over completely and her eyelids began to close. I put her in my car, buckled her in and drove home.

When I got her there, I lugged her unconscious body inside. I removed her clothes, except for her bra and panties, and put her in my own bed. I would have to sleep in a chair, it seemed. I pulled up a recliner and lay down to rest.

At around 7:00 the next morning, I awoke. My guest was still out cold, so I showered, dressed, breakfasted, and put on some old football games to watch. After watching Florida's defense suffer a Yeast infection against Kentucky [but hold on to win by a 51-35 score,] I watched Vince Young defeat USC 41-38 for the national championship. As I was putting away the tape, I heard a moaning sound from the bed. I walked over and sat down next to it.

Looking very groggy, the woman asked, "where am I?"

"Lay still," I told her. "Two men slipped something in your drink last night. If I hadn't been around, they'd probably have taken you home and had their way with you. How much do you remember?"

"Not much," she said. "I ordered a drink, and someone passed it to me when it was ready. I went to the bathroom feeling woozy... I don't remember anything else."

"I asked you to get some fresh air with me. I also saw someone slip an eyedropper full of something into the drink you had. You were very lucky you weren't taken advantage of," I responded.

"Back to my first question... where am I?" she repeated.

"Oh, introductions," I said. "My name is Mike Robinson. I'm 31 years old. This is my cottage. I live here by myself, and I own it free and clear – last mortgage payment was a year ago. We're not far from the city of Davis. I work at UC-Davis as a mid-level administrator."

"I'm Julie Martin," she said. "I just finished school at UC-Berkeley a few weeks ago. I'm 23, just started looking for a job, and still live with friends from school, at least for now. My friend Renee went with me to the dance, then we got split up. She drove me over, and probably isn't worried yet because she thinks I hooked up."

"Call her and let her know you're OK," I advised. "I'll make you something to eat. What would you like? Don't get up yet, you're still recovering from the whatever-it-was you were slipped."

I handed her a cordless phone. "Bacon, eggs and toast, please," Julie said, as she dialed a number. I went to work in the small kitchen-type area on the side of the room, and soon had a lovely meal ready. I provided orange juice to go with it and brought it to Julie on a tray. She had just finished her conversation, one I had not listened in on.

"I've never been served breakfast in bed by a man before," Julie smiled. "What happened to a woman's place being in the kitchen?"

"First off, that is so 1950's," I said. "Secondly, I have to know how to cook. I live here by myself, so if I don't cook, I don't eat. Third, I like you, I'd like to make you feel secure around me, and I'd like to make a good impression. I'm just being me, that's all... you have to do that, because people see right through an act."

"I've never had a man treat me like this," she replied. "I had one boyfriend, but he never cooked, brought me flowers, massaged my shoulders, or did anything to make me think I was being cared about."

"Why don't you spend the weekend with me and find out how a real man treats a woman?" I laughed.

"Why not?" Julie giggled.

I cleared her plate away. "So tell me," I said, "what are some of your interests?"

"I'm actually a sports junkie," she responded. "I grew up with my dad, 3 brothers, and no mom in the house. I suppose it was natural. My favorite college football team is Notre Dame."

I popped in a tape and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "You'll enjoy this, then," I said.

We watched Joe Montana bring the Irish back from 22 down to beat Houston 35-34, then saw Tony Rice systematically dismantle West Virginia 34-21 for the '88 national championship. While we were watching, I learned more details about her so-called "boyfriend" that made my blood start to boil. Apparently he had treated her like a virtual slave, making her do all the cooking, all the shopping and all the housework in the 8 months they resided together. He also thought he had the right to use her body whenever he wanted, without taking into account her feelings.

"Why didn't you kick him out?" I asked. "I'd have had that scumbag out on his ass in a New York minute if I had been in that position."

"He claimed he loved me," Julie said.

"He sure had a funny way of showing it," I said. "Now, the Mike Robinson approach is that saying words mean nothing. I think actions define a person. When all is said and done, more is said than done."

"You're funny," Julie giggled. "Where did you get that line from?"

"Bumper sticker I saw a month ago," I replied.

"I like you," Julie smiled. "Now could you point me towards the bathroom?"

I did so, and she got up. "HEY!" she said. "Where are my clothes? I'm in my underwear!"

"I thought you'd be more comfortable sleeping without that bulky dress on," I said. "I saw you like this last night, so you're not showing me anything I don't already know about. Just pretend you're in a bikini at the beach... you'd be showing off everything you are now, wouldn't you? To anyone who walked past?"

She relaxed and smiled. "I suppose so," she said. "When I think about how helpless I was, I should be thanking you. You could have stripped me and used me."

"You're welcome," I grinned. "I'm just happy I was there."

After a home-cooked dinner of veal piccata [complete with capers], salad, baked potato and chocolate mousse, Julie wanted to know more about my cooking skills. "My family doesn't have anyone in it who cooks like this," she said. "Mike, how'd you get past the survival skills and become a chef?"

"Cooking is easy if you practice every day and learn to follow recipes," I said. "I have enough money that I can buy things like veal on occasion, so I figured I may as well learn how to cook like a gourmet if I was going to buy gourmet food... otherwise what's the point of buying it?"

"Can you teach me how?" she asked.

"Sure, but it'll take longer than 1 weekend," I said. "No one learns this in a day. Practice makes perfect."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Julie said. "Mike, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. I'd like to move in with you. I'm unattached and unemployed, and I can't stay with my college roommates forever. Would you mind...?"

"MIND?!" I said. "Are you nuts or something? Julie, of course you can move in with me, if that's what you want. I can use my connections to get you a job around here. You sure you want to live near Davis? It's a long way from Berkeley."

"I'm sure," she said.

"Ok, that's decided," I said. "Just relax while I prepare a surprise for you. I think you'll like it."

I went into the bathroom and drew a hot bath for her. I took the phone with me and made a few arrangements with some people as I did, speaking quietly so Julie couldn't hear what I was saying.

I emerged back from the bathroom. "Julie, your bath is ready," I said. "Nothing beats a relaxing soak in the tub on a weekend. I know from experience."

Julie didn't even seem abashed as she removed her underwear, posing naked in front of me. "You drew me a bath," she said. "I can't believe it. I've never had anyone do as many nice things for me in a year as you have in a weekend."

She paused. "How do you like my body, Mike?" she giggled. ""I can't believe I just stripped in front of you. You just inspire a feeling of trust."

I looked her over from head to toe. She had a gentle, rounded-looking face, framed by soft shoulder-length wavy brown hair and soulful brown eyes. Her arms were slender, her torso not distinctively anything. Not fashion-model skinny or Mo'Nique-size fat. Average breasts, small perky nipples. Ordinary legs, not large or small, well-muscled with a slight layer of soft tissue covering them. Nothing distinctive-looking, much like myself, I thought. Yet she gave off an aura of innocence, gentleness and sweetness that made the whole greater than the sum of the parts. Her sweet personality infused her body with a special radiance.

"You look very nice," I said. "You don't try too hard to be attractive, and as a result, your natural inner beauty makes you lovely on the outside as well. I can't stand people who go peroxide-blonde and get a tummy-tuck and a breast augmentation, thinking because they changed the outside their ugliness inside is hidden. Just be yourself, that's all you have to do."

"Very poetic answer," she responded. "My so-called boyfriend was always after me to diet and work out. He also said my tits were too small and my ass was too big."

"I ask again," I replied, "why didn't you kick this moron to the curb long ago?"

"I should have," Julie grinned. "I'll take that bath now."

About 30 minutes after Julie had entered the bathtub, I strolled in with a brush and some soap. "Want me to scrub your back, Julie?" I asked.

Her jaw dropped about a foot. "I don't believe this, Mike," she said. "You're a gift from God. The LAST thing I would have expected was for you to offer to do that. I can't reach my back myself, and was wondering how I was going to wash it. Any other surprises you have for me?"

"That depends," I replied, "on whether you're surprised by a man treating a woman as a human being and not as a slave good only for housework and sex."

"I suppose you could say I am," she said, "because I've never experienced it. Not that my family mistreated me or anything, no complaints on that score, but obviously a brother is different than a boyfriend. I was just one of the guys to them. And my so-called boyfriend..."

"Enough about that peckerhead," I said. "Would you like me to scrub your back now?"

"Absolutely," she replied, smiling sweetly, "and thanks."

I soaped her up slowly and delicately, using my fingertips to massage in the soap. When I reached the top of her back, I began to gently rub her shoulders, squeezing softly as I found a few small knots in her muscles.

"Don't stop," Julie moaned. "Mike, your hands feel so good."

I continued my massage technique, working down both sides of her ribcage. I could sense the tension oozing out of her in pulses. "This works better when you're lying on a bed," I said with a grin.

She stood up in the tub, drew the curtain and flipped on the shower. "Let me just rinse off the soap," she said. "I'll be right out."

When she emerged, she was naked, clean, and seemingly glowing from the inside out. "You do good work," she said. "Please pick up where you left off." She lay facedown on the bed.

I drizzled some oil on her back and began to work from her neck downwards. I squeezed her flesh gently in my strong hands, slowly going downwards, and not forgetting to run my fingertips up and down her spine a few times. I could feel her shiver with pleasure when I did so.

Her legs were next, starting with her feet. The soles proved to be very ticklish, as my delicate touch made her squirm and giggle. I moved from there to her lower legs, savoring the feel of her skin under my hands. She was smiling now from ear to ear as I moved to the tops of her legs. I opened her legs a bit as I inched upward, making sure to caress her inner thighs with my delicate fingertips.

"Turn over, Julie," I told her. She did so, and I began with her legs [again], moving upwards in a similar pattern. This time, however, I let my fingers brush lightly against her slit as I worked her thighs. That drew a gasp of pleasure.

Her upper body was next, and I spent a long time working the base of her breasts before moving my way towards her nipples. I teased her areolae with caresses, without touching her actual nipples. I finally moved down her stomach and down towards her labia.

"Take a look," I said, showing her the oil I was using.

She looked at the bottle, then suddenly light broke through. "This is edible oil?" she asked. "For real?"

"Yes, indeed," I said.

I began by licking and sucking the edible oil off of her toes, swirling my tongue around each toe. I could feel electricity pulsing through her body. Moving upwards, I discovered that her knees were a sensitive spot. As I licked the oil off of them, she squealed and squirmed on the bed. She started moaning when my tongue licked clean her inner thighs. I stopped just short of her slit, drawing a whimpered protest.

"Don't stop now," Julie gasped. "That really feels good!"

"I still have to do your upper body," I said.

I slowly licked her clean, concentrating on her breasts. I lifted her orbs and licked the underside of both, slowly and tenderly. Moving upwards, I sucked off every drop of the oil. I circled her nipples lightly with my tongue, but didn't suck on them.

"Stop teasing me, Mike!" Julie moaned. "I feel like I'm on fire! I want you to do me so badly!"

"I'm not done yet," I said. "The best is yet to come."

I moved down her belly, spread her legs and touched my tongue to her slit. I didn't even finish one lick when she locked her legs around me, clamping my head so tightly I thought I would black out. I licked her a few times, then opened her up and circled my tongue over her clit.

She responded with a monstrous orgasm, absolutely flooding my face with her juices. I licked up as much as I could get, but there was still a large wet spot left on the bed.

When she finally came down, she looked at me with shining eyes. "That was the best experience of my life," she husked. "I've never had anyone care about MY pleasure like that before. What did you do to me?"

"Just what any man who cares would do," I responded, "warm you up a little first before trying to plunge in."

"Warm me up a LITTLE?" she said. "That's a monster understatement. Now it's my turn."

She reached out and pulled off my shorts, leaving my hard cock exposed. "Wow, it's ready to play," she said. She took me in her soft hands and delicately stroked my swollen rod. Pumping gently, she leaned forward and licked my balls. Her tongue felt very nice. I could feel my balls tightening as she sucked them into her hot mouth.

"Take me now, Mike," she said, lying down with her legs spread wide. "I want to feel you in me."

I slid into her superheated pussy. Her internal muscles seemed to be squeezing my cock with every thrust. I moved slowly at first, carefully establishing a rhythm.

"Faster!" Julie said. "Do me hard! Take me!"

I increased my pace, moving deeper into her. I drew back my hips each time and began slamming forward with as much force as I could muster. I couldn't believe how good it felt. She was milking my cock with each thrust, trying to squeeze the cum out of my balls.

She reached up and pushed me down. "My turn on top," she announced, mounting me and slamming her hips downward. She leaned over, thrusting her tits into my face. I rolled one of her nipples between my fingertips and sucked on the other.

"Oh, yes!" Julie moaned. "That's it, Mike! Suck me, squeeze me, slam me!"

Her dirty talk was turning me on even more. I could feel my balls tightening and my dick beginning to swell even more. Julie felt it too. "That's it, Mike!" she howled. "Give me all your cum! Make me your woman!"

I couldn't hold out any longer. I began shooting what felt like a quart of cum into her. She responded to my cumload with a flood of her own juice. She fell on top of me as we lay in each other's arms, spent.

"You're the best I've ever had, Mike," she said. "I've never felt that good in my life."

"Thank you, Julie," I replied. "You're terrific yourself."

She disentangled her body from mine and lay next to me. "I don't know what to say," she informed me. "My heart is telling me that I've found my true love. Do you think it's possible...?"

"Well, you are moving in with me," I said. "We'll have plenty of time to find out."

The next day, Renee, Kenny, and my friend Dave [who supplied the truck] brought Julie's few possessions in.

Julie's jaw dropped. "Mike, did you...?"

"Yes, I did," I said. "If a thing's worth doing, why hesitate?"

It's been a year since that day. Julie and I still live together, and we plan to eventually marry and start a family. She works at Davis now, and doesn't miss her old haunts at all. Kenny has only said "I told you so" 343 times so far... and I don't begrudge him any of them.