Authors note: This is the follow up story to Edna's Delight. Though this story can be read as a stand-alone work most readers would benefit from reading the original story.
Edna's Delightful Romance
By Rachel Anne Wallace
I sat in the back seat of the car listening to Carol and Jane talk to each other, well sort of. My mind kept going over the past five days of spring break and the experiences we had shared together—just three girls having a fling to blow off steam. Now, we were heading back to Michigan to spend some time with our parents, and then return to campus to finish the semester, our last. But, I had far more on my mind as the drone of the tires on the pavement spoke to the miles traveled northward—the promise of something more at journey's end if I chose to pursue it. It was a big if.
I roused at the sound of my name as I fingered the slip of paper in my hand. "Edna, are you alright back there?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I responded matter-of-factly to Jane.
"You've been awfully quiet these last few hours," Carol offered.
"I know. I'm just thinking about what I need to do when we get home. You know, that kind of stuff."
"You know this is probably the last time we will ever have this much time together. After this semester we will have graduated, found jobs, and live who knows where," Jane said in an upbeat voice.
"Come on, we'll keep in touch. They don't make phones and computers for nothing," Carol laughed.
"Yeah, we'll be able to do that," I agreed heartily, as the two of them resumed talking to each other.
Then I wondered—was I going to feel the same way I felt after graduating from high school, another milestone in my life? I remembered feeling bewildered afterwards—ready for the next phase of my life to begin, feeling somehow unprepared. Even though I knew I was going to attend university in the fall, it made me feel uneasy. So, would I feel the same after this graduation? I would have my degree and be searching for gainful employment to support myself, this time for real. Would I be ready?
My parents had offered me my old room if I hadn't lined up a position right away—though it offered me the security of knowing I had somewhere to go I could afford. After all, it's hard to find something better than free. I really didn't want to live with them again. My independent streak awkwardly manifested itself—I didn't want the subtle parental pressure it represented—no wonder I felt conflicted. I was independent, yet not fully.
The miles slipped by as I watched out the window as a series of McDonald's, Wendy's, and Taco Bells' blurred the miles. My mind wandered, this time to the real question that confronted me—I fingered the slip of paper after having looked at it yet again—I had lost count of how many times exactly. The tangible evidence of a night and morning spent with Dale. I smiled to myself as the images came again, so vividly playing out in my mind:
After leaving Jane and Carol at our condo, I took the elevator up to Dale's condo. It wasn't long before we elected to take a walk on the beach as the sun started to set over the Gulf of Mexico. We walked and talked, laughing at silly things, touching, enjoying the warm breezes. Fewer people populated the beach as the sun settled down in the west, then we watched as the orange-red disk of the sun slipped below the horizon—a flash marking its disappearance. We had walked at least two miles before turning back, and when we did Dale held out his hand for mine. I grasped it and felt a thrill as we walked slowly, our feet wetted from time to time as we walked at the very edge of the water as high tide rolled in. It felt so romantic, just the two of us and the vast stretch of ocean, waves crashing upon the beach.
It had grown dark as we approached the fishing pier adjacent to our condo with its single light, I looked at Dale's handsome face in the dim light, augmented by the faint glow of a full moon. I felt a tug of my hand and stopped walking, instinctively turning towards him, knowing what I wanted to happen. My body had warmed with his touch and visions of his naked body as he moved over Jane or Carol had appeared in my mind. I wanted to feel that firm body against mine, I wanted his lips to pursue mine, to kiss my chest, my breasts, and wherever else he might choose to go. I saw his eyes come to mine, and then his deep voice.
"Edna, may I hug you?"
It seemed a ludicrous question in a way. He asked despite our agreement that I would spend the night with him—he didn't take liberties with me, which I had to admit seemed very strange. He had already asked if I really wanted to stay with him for the night, and I had told him I would. The two men I had slept with before had quickly lay me down, assuming my yes meant I was available for whatever they wanted to do. Yet, Dale respected me enough to ask if I was ready to be more intimate. I smiled sweetly—if he only knew how much he had already affected me, his words simply stoked the strong desire within me.
I nodded and stood as his arms came around me, then gently pulled me close. I placed my arms around his waist and leaned in while closing my eyes. I felt the warmth of his body against mine, our bared arms holding each other, then gently caressing. My heart drummed strongly as a thrill ran through me again. It was just a hug, but it was as if an invisible barrier had been removed from between us. This wasn't the picture of the wild night of passion I had fantasized about days before—emotionally it was better as it was respectful. I wasn't just a 'piece of ass' in the crude sense of the word men often portrayed it as.
He brought his mouth to my ear within my hair and whispered, "Edna you're so soft, so curvy, and so wonderful to talk too. I could hold you like this for hours, a lifetime."
We slowly parted and resumed our walk, both of us silent as we walked hand in hand. When we reached the elevated boardwalk that led to the pier we stopped beneath it. There was the soft glow of the moon reflecting off the white sand of the beach, just enough to show me the smile on his face as we turned toward each other again.
Our lips met spontaneously, there was no need for words, the sound of the crashing waves, a hint of the odor of salt water spray as it came off the pilings of the pier combined with my eagerness to feel him hard against me as his passion enveloped me. The kiss was passionate, soft, than hard as we sought each other. I had been kissed so many times in my life—but never quite like this, never had my mind and body responded so strongly, so forcefully, to a man as it did now. I felt a bit weak—now I knew what it meant when a woman swooned in the arms of a man. I lay against him, eyes closed, his arms my strength.
"Dale, I think we should go back to the condo where it's more private," my voice soft, yet strong in its conviction, knowing I wanted much more than a public place would allow us even under the cover of darkness.
We entered the brightly lit lobby of the condominium, pressed the elevator button for the sixth floor, and rode up while we held hands. I knew what I wanted, knowing full well what Dale was capable of in terms of pleasing a woman. Now, it was my turn, only this time I knew in my heart it was more than sex, we were going to make love to one another. If Dale had only known he could have taken me under the pier after our kiss with my full and willing cooperation despite my privacy reservations—I would have been unable to resist.
The next morning I had been on top and had fucked the daylights of him as I watched his face showing exquisite, tortured ecstasy as he reached orgasm. It was the first time in my life I had felt power as a woman over a man—I had been the sole source of his pleasure as I sat astride him. I had been in complete control, his body and mind was mine at that moment while I still had my share of hot pleasure.
I found myself smiling to myself as a vision of Dale's face remained in my mind.
"Edna! Are you here? Come on. It's time to get something to eat."
I looked out the window and saw we were in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel restaurant. I didn't even know where we were at exactly, in Georgia for sure.
"Where are we?"
"Just the other side of Atlanta. Didn't you notice all the traffic we were in?" Jane exclaimed.
"Yeah, I guess I did," knowing I really hadn't.
We ate lunch and afterwards I took the wheel to drive for a while. Jane got into the back seat and after a few minutes I saw she had closed her eyes. Carol and I engaged in an ongoing reprise of our time at the beach; she telling me I should have spent more time looking at the guys the last couple of days we were there. I admitted to her I had looked some, but that I really wasn't too interested. She looked at me quizzically.
"You know you haven't said anything about what happened with Dale. Did everything go alright? I mean he wasn't mean to you was he?"
"Carol, no. Everything was fine. It's...just... it went differently than I expected it too...it was...well, delightful in so many ways...it was...well..."
"You know I will never forget him. I know it was just sex, but someday he's going to find the woman he wants to marry and she is going to be well taken care of, if you know what I mean," Carol interrupted.
I knew exactly what she meant. I had spent far more time with him than she and Jane had. There was no doubt in my mind he was worth considering, but there was much more to him than sex—he had shown that side of himself to me.
The only negative thing I had noticed was he wasn't as tidy as I would have liked, but I had seen much worse in other men's apartments I had dated.
We had talked for hours before going to bed, then again in the morning before and after having made love, before joining Jane and Carol for breakfast. We certainly shared a lot in common in terms of an outlook on life and what we wanted—a family, a couple of kids, and a nice house on several acres we could roam around in, our religious views were close, and it seemed we were both budget conscious. But I had come away from our time together feeling as if I had known him for years and that we had been intimate for months—completely relaxed, feeling safe and secure in his embrace.
"Well, I don't see too many women that would throw him out of bed if he was eating crackers," I quipped.
Carol laughed. "Now I haven't heard that expression before."
