Shaun runs into his old obsession, Cam, in this chapter. For background, you should read Chapter 01 in the series. Don't forget to vote...and send feedback!
Time – The Present
I hadn't seen Sherri, or Cam for that matter, in three years. I'd missed them. I'd also undergone therapy for my sexual addiction during that time and had confined my physical pleasures mostly to weekends. So my recent chance meeting with Cam was pleasant, though – as always – platonic. We'd become good friends during the time I was her boss at the bank, but it was great to see her again and stir up what I thought were very private, hidden fantasies.
The past three years had certainly been kind to Cam, I thought, her divorce notwithstanding. If anything, her body was more toned and she had an air of maturity about her that I found compelling. To be honest, I found it very sensuous. I also shuddered with pleasure when I pictured her narrow-hipped, high ass – reminiscent of the bubble-butt that one sees on the finest black females – winking at me as she walked away.
What a fool Darryl was, letting such a fine specimen as that go, I thought of her husband. Then I had to force myself into a meditative exercise – prescribed by my sex therapist – to take my mind off of the carnal impulses I'd always felt when I was around her...and other women I lusted after.
Halfway through the morning after we'd run across one another in the bar – on a Wednesday – she called my client's office, asking for me. "How did you get this number?" I asked.
"Shaun...you said you had an insurance client on the 40th floor. I've worked in this building for years and there's only one insurance company there. I'm calling to invite you to lunch today."
"Sorry, Cam, can't make it. I've got a long meeting at noon. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Oooh, damn. I wanted to see you today, but...okay, tomorrow'll do. Downstairs in the restaurant all right with you?"
"It's a date. See you tomorrow at noon," I said, wondering what was so important that she'd had to see me today.
Cam was waiting for me at the bar the next day, once again having a lunchtime glass of wine with her friend, Marsha. She was facing away from me, half-perched on a barstool, in a tan wool pantsuit with a maroon pin-stripe. Her jacket was expertly tailored and fit like a glove. Her pants...my Gawd, her pants! They highlighted her magnificent bottom, clinging to it and her upper thighs to the point that I thought their stitching would give way. Her feet were in her trademarked three-inch – this time burgundy – stiletto heels.
Marsha must have warned her that she'd seen me. As I approached them, Cam turned, beaming, and greeted me with a "Hi, sailor!"
"Sorry I'm late," I apologized, at which point Marsha excused herself and left. I got the feeling that she was being used as a chaperone by Cam. Her independent manner told me that they didn't work closely together.
Cam led the way to our reserved table and we settled in. "Like some wine? My treat!" she exclaimed. I had a light afternoon and needed to relax, so I happily said yes.
A half-hour went by and we'd not talked about anything more important than the weather. Our lunch had arrived and we'd almost finished it. What had been so important yesterday? I wondered. I decided to get personal...starting with a compliment.
"That's a very handsome suit," I ventured. I chose the adjective carefully, so as not to make my deep, lustful impulses too obvious. Under her jacket she wore a burgundy V-neck sweater that was so tight the inner slopes of her breasts swelled appetizingly over the garment's neckline.
"Why thank you, Shaun," she cooed. "I figured I'd better keep my legs covered so you'd listen to what I'm saying," she added coquettishly.
I looked down at the table. She'd busted me. All those years before she'd noticed my slavish hunger for her legs, and now I was being held to task for it. I blushed, visibly, and stuttered a response, something like, "Ah...it's just that...".
"Don't apologize, Shaun. I'd have to be blind not to have noticed your appreciation of my legs. But where's your head now? You're a successful entrepreneur, and I hope no longer just a skirt-chaser."
Again I was speechless. I'd always admired Cam's candor. At this moment it was hard to believe that at one time I'd been her boss.
"Okay...I'll back off...and talk about myself," she said quietly, unconsciously sticking a finger into the V-neck of her sweater...perhaps to free a nipple that had been caught uncomfortably in her bra. "My choice of Darryl was a bad one."
"Why do you say that?" I questioned, now distracted by her tits.
"The first couple of years were great. Our sex life together was super and we were pursuing some great plans. Then he started to get really kinky."
"Kinky?" I asked, probing for more details.
"Yeah...first he started bringing home sex toys – vibrators, plugs, dildos – then porn videos. Then we started going to porno clubs so he could get me used to watching other people make love."
"Was he disappointed?" I asked.
"Not really," she countered. "I've always been...aah...visually-oriented. Okay, I admit that I like to watch other people get it on. It excites me tremendously. But, finally, he
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