My Perfection

I have previously posted several stories on Literotica under another pen name. For a year I have stopped writing and now feel the need to put some more words on paper, so to speak. Previously I explored certain fetishes and more 'edgy' topics that felt tantalizing and compelling at the time. This story, however, is less risqué, but is one of far more honestly than what I have written before. I hope you enjoy it, and always welcome critique and constructive criticism.

While based on actual, personal experience, this story is to be considered a work of fiction.

*****

I had barely sat down when she placed the drink in front of me, a diet-Pepsi with a slice of lemon, very little ice. Perfect. It was one of the reasons I frequented this restaurant for lunch: great service. Eating here 2 to 3 times a week meant the waitress knew my name, new my beverage preference, even knew what I was likely to order.

"Enchiladas today, right?" Cami asked as I sipped some of my drink.

"You know me, can't pass up the house special!" I replied.

I looked across the table at Mark, who rarely joined me for lunch but had come with today. He was looking over the menu but I decided to spare him the routine. "Bring him the same" I told Cami, and then promised Mark he would not be disappointed. He simply shrugged and handed Cami the menu and asked for a regular cola.

I notice him look Cami, our waitress, up and down as she noted our orders on her pad and then turn to walk away. He then looked at me with a mischievous grin as if to say 'what was that all about?'

"I eat here a lot... she knows what I like," I answered his unspoken question. He only smiled in return.

Cami returned quickly with Marks drink and put chips and salsa on the table for us to share. Two bowls of salsa, with one placed in front of each of us. "I know you don't like to share," she teased. Her smile was warm and honest and I smiled back. She walked back to the kitchen and again Mark watched her as she moved away.

"Not the cutest waitress in the world, but she sure has the 'hots' for you!" was Marks shallow remark.

I was caught off guard by his observation. Honestly dismayed initially by the idea that perhaps Cami was attracted to me, even interested in me. A pleasant rush of adrenaline made me flush inside at the thought of a romantic prospect, but was then replaced by a feeling of resentment that Mark thought she was 'not cute', in his judgment., but that meant not beautiful, or not sexy, or not perfect in the blonde-Barbi sense of the word 'perfect'. I was offended. I didn't say anything, but my mind started analyzing his verbalized opinion in contrast to what I saw when I looked at Cami.

She was certainly the actual, if unspoken reason, I spent so many lunch-hours at this particular restaurant, (that and the great Mexican food they served at such reasonable prices). Cami was young, I doubt much older than 20 or 21. She was warm, and friendly, and provided exceptional service as a waitress. No, she was not gorgeous in the traditional sense of the word, but she was beautiful. Not tall, she was probably around 5' 3" and while not model thin, she wasn't fat either. Her legs where strong and tan, not long and lean as seen on the cover of fashion magazines but they were toned and well defined... no one would call them fat or even chubby. Today they were very visible as she was wearing a lose skirt that fell a few inches above her knees. Her skirt was just short enough to tempt my eyes to linger longer than normal on her smooth skinned knees and sexy calves and ankles. Normally, my eyes would travel quickly up her legs so I could take in her sensuous bottom. Without a doubt, one of her most pleasing features was the roundness of her ass and the soft, inviting feminine curve that was highlighted by almost anything she was wearing.

Her hair was a sandy brown color, giving it an almost amber tint but not quiet red and certainly not a true brunet. Her breasts were small, a b-cup at best. Her neck was longer than it should have been, given her body type. Her hair was always pulled back into a simple pony or wrapped in a loose bun, so her neck was always exposed and her hair length always a mystery. She favored earrings that hung only an inch or two below her ear-lobes that seemed perfect for her face, neck, and hair-style. They were as casual and confident as the rest of Cami's appearance. But despite the sensual allure of her hair, neck, and jewelry, it was Cami's face that made the sale. Her eyes were wide and warm. Deeply brown pupils, long lashes, and only moderately plucked eye-brows, her eyes felt like home. There was life in her eyes, humor in her eyes, and most of all... confidence. Her smile was accentuated by a deep dimple on the right side of her mouth that only appeared when she smiled. But her smile was generous and genuine and so there was plenty of opportunity to observe it. Not only did her smile cause her dimple to manifest, but made her nose scrunch up in a playful sort of way that made her look younger than she was. It also made her eyes explode with energy and cheerfulness. You would never know she was working a tough job, on her feet for hours, making less than idea money as a waitress. To see her smile you would think she was on a beach with a drink and a good book, enjoying the sun and sand. There was a sense of escape and easiness in her voice and face and actions.

Mark was amused by my daydreaming, and being the typical male that he was, didn't let it slide.

"Hey, you can do better than that!" He said, followed by a self-congratulating laugh and shake of his head.

Maybe I could, I thought. My last girlfriend has been more stereotypical in terms of physical appearance. She has also been a spoiled pain in the ass, preoccupied with her looks, never confident enough to leave the house without make-up and perfect hair, and endlessly, but falsely, concerned about her self-appraised imperfections. No objective person to see her naked would have found fault in her flat stomach or large natural breasts or perfectly sculpted back, butt, and legs. Still, she made a show of covering herself when coming out of the shower or after sex to keep me from seeing a wrinkle here or an extra pound there. It was exhausting to deal with her obsessive need for attention and affirmation, day after day. And eventually it was the reason we broke up.

I was honest with her when we split, I simply told her I was tired of her. It probably sounded cold and was likely taken out of context, but no other phrase described how I felt. She left in a storm of obscenities, but it was over and I felt relieved. It was the very next day I made my first stop for enchiladas and the first time I saw Cami.

So, could I do better than Cami? I guess it depends on what one is measuring and whose standards are being used. Something about Cami had drawn me in over the past 6 weeks and made me obsess over the simplest details. I spent one lunch infatuated with her oddly short little toes that were visible through the end of her sandals, and the little toe ring that embellished her pinky toe. Another day I noticed the small pattern of moles on the back of her neck, three of them in an almost perfectly straight horizontal line just to the left of her spine. Hidden details like these moles, almost always hidden by her hair but occasionally revealed when she pulled her hair up, made me wonder what other treasures were to be found. I spent an entire afternoon following one of my lunch visits, trying to guess at what her last name might be. What was the perfect complimentary name for Cami? Smith? No, far too common. Christensen? Nah... that would be too obvious. Maybe Cami was not her formal name, maybe her real name was Camilla or Cameron or Camile.

I finished my lunch, half-listening to Mark talk about work and the big projects we were both working on. I take lunch to escape from work for a few minutes, so my participation in the conversation was sparse and my real interest was in Cami and her occasional visits to our table to check on us. At one point she cleared my plate and placed her hand on my back as she bent down to grab my empty cup. It was just enough pressure to feel the warmth of her palm through my shirt. It was like I was in high school again, flirting in the hall with some emerging teenage beauty. I was surprised at the reaction I was having to Cami, given the slight chance that she might actually be interested in me. Her body language was certainly reinforcing the idea, though.

Despite my weeks of superficial flirting with Cami, not until today had I considered actually asking her out. I was 33, likely 10 years or older than her, and unfortunately starting to show some of my age. The hair line was ever so slightly receding, and despite my best efforts to stay in shape and keep active, the body was becoming soft in places. My knees hurt from basketball and jogging, and such joint pain just makes you feel older. I kept reminding myself that 33 was NOT old, but everything is relative, and in contrast to Cami's young body and spirit, I felt old. Work was a stress factor as well, with recent projects keeping me in the office late into the evenings, and thus any exercise or social life cut into precious sleep time. Nothing like an average of 4 hours of sleep a night to make anyone look and feel older than they actually are.

I was still stinging inside from Marks comments about Cami's appearance. I was almost defensive in my thoughts and rationale as we had eaten our lunches. Mark was finishing his soda, and we would be leaving soon. I had another sudden shift in emotion as I started to panic that I would have to leave without seeing Cami again. I rose to my feet and excused myself to the men's room, not exactly sure what I was going to do, but proceeded in the general direction of the kitchen and wash rooms. I rounded a corner to make my way to this part of the restaurant, and thus Mark was well out of sight, but Cami was dead-ahead. My normal reserve and common sense seemed to disappear as I walked closer. She turned and asked if the meal was ok. Of course it was fantastic, and I told her so, but then paused to take a deep breath.

"Would you consider having dinner with me sometime, Cami?" I asked her. I was entirely regretting my boldness the second I finished my proposal, but her smile never faded and her eyes stayed intensely focused on mine. She only replied, "Of Course!" as if there could be no other answer.

I should have been more prepared, but my brain failed me as I considered her answer and then realized the ball was back in my court. She shifted her stance so that her body was square to me and fully at my attention. This gal had such poise and well trained mannerisms.

I fumbled for my wallet, pulled out a business card and offered her my work number. It was my normal way of picking up a girl... don't put the pressure on them for a phone number, let them decide if they truly want to call or not. She took the card and said she would call after her shift was over, and I told her I would be in the office at least until 6:00. Her smiled was constant and I felt myself starting to heat up to the point of perspiring, so I departed with a wave and some silly cliché' about being excited for her call.

Mark was already at the door waiting for my return and we headed back to the office. The rest of the afternoon was a waste of my time. My ability to focus was blown and I worked all my energy towards planning a night out with Cami that would be fun and hopefully impress her. I only stayed at my desk until 6:00pm in anticipation of Cami's call, but was broken in spirit when the hour finally arrived and she had not phoned. I shut down my computer and found my keys in order to leave. I was considering how I would deal with the rejection... two options came to mind, either hit the gym for a quick workout or hit the sports bar down the street from my apartment. Beer was winning the internal argument as I put on my jacket and headed for the door.

I had no sooner stepped into the hall when my office phone rang. I flew back to my desk to take the call just knowing it had to be Cami.

"Karl?" She asked as I answered the phone. "I am so sorry for not calling sooner. I don't have a cell and forgot to call from the restaurant before leaving. I just got home and hoped you hadn't left work yet!"

Despite my afternoon of planning a date, I had no good ideas and Cami took the pressure off me by suggesting that coffee would probably be a good first date, rather than a formal dinner. Neither of us felt hungry and were both tired from a long day. We settled on a local coffee and pastry shop just down the street from my place, and agreed to me there an hour later. I rushed home to shower and change.

I walked past the sports bar on my way to the coffee shop and relished the fact that I was not in there drowning my pitiful self in suds. Instead I made my to the shop next door and found Cami already sitting at a corner booth, talking to the waitress. As I approached I saw that she had exchanged her work skirt for another more casual but equally short version. She had on a simple button up blouse with ½ sleeves and a pair of fun beach sandals. I only touched her shoulder lightly as I said hi and then sat opposite of her in the booth.

I ordered a coffee, and then became dazed as our little coffee date turned into 2 hours of talk, several cups of coffee, and at least a few pasties between the two of us. It was past nine and the hours had flown by, as Cami seemed to be everything I imagined her to be.

She was only slightly older than I suspected, being 22 and on summer break from the local college. Working her way through college was a financial struggle, but she bore that burden with a grin and seemed none-to-bothered by it. She was studying anthropology and spent a considerable amount of time hiking and camping. This explained her strong legs and naturally tanned face and skin. We exchanged the usual banter, telling each other about work, school, some of our hobbies, etc. I admitted my age and she raised one eyebrow in playful shock, but she did not seem otherwise bothered by the marginal difference in our ages. Overall the conversation came easily and the time went by quickly.

Finally the conversation paused for a moment, and the awkwardness of a first date finally settled in. She finally broke the silence by admitting she was getting hungry, hungry for real food other than sugary pastries.

It was a little unfortunate that aside from the sports bar and some local fast-food places, there was no real food to be found in this part of town. Neither of us felt like doing the sports-bar scene, so I made a bold suggestion.

"I live just down the block. You are welcome to come back to my place for some pasta or sandwiches or whatever I can dig up" I said.

Her eyes got wide as if I was moving way too fast and I immediately started to qualify my suggestion, "don't take that the wrong way...", I started, but she interrupted me with "Sounds great!".

I paid or tab and we left the coffee joint, a very hopped up on caffeine and sugar. It was getting a little chilly and Cami's legs had to be cold, so we walked quickly. Her hair was down and the light wind was blowing from behind us, moving it into her face, which meant her hands were constantly working to pull it back behind her ears. With her arms extended upwards, the hem of her shirt rose and exposed a few inches of her belly and back, and I was immediately aware of her soft skin, tanned stomach, and adorable belly-button. I placed my hand on the small of her back in an affectionate manner and she did not object in any way. My small finger was directly on the skin of her back and I could feel her spine as we walked. I was relishing the smallest details of this girl.

Once inside my apartment, she took her sandals off in a very polite gesture before entering my living room. As she raised one foot to undo the sandal, she lost her balance and caught herself by grabbing my shoulder. It was only a second, but her smile faded and her eyes sank into mine as she looked up to apologize. For the first time that evening I felt reciprocal passion instead of the normal happy glow that she projected. Recovered from her slip, she let go and smiled again. We made our way to the kitchen.

I banged around for a few minutes with pots and in the fridge until I had some water boiling with fettuccini. We made due with bread and lite-beer while the pasta cooked and the sauce warmed. I am no cook, but it is hard to screw up pasta.

We were both hungry, and the pasta took priority for a few minutes as we finished off the quick meal. The lack of conversation while we ate felt normal, and the date in general no longer felt like a first date. Maybe it was weeks of casual acquaintance as a customer at her place of work, or maybe we just "fit" one another.

I finished my plate and took it to the sink. I turned around to help clear the table, but Cami was already headed over with her plate and she rinsed it quickly. But I noticed her smile was gone and her eyes furrowed in thought. I wondered if I had misinterpreted the connection I felt earlier. She even paused at the sink after turning off the water and I grew concerned.

"Cami, is something wrong?" I asked. She turned around quickly and smiled, but this time her face was conveying something else... something I could not read. Before I could even attempt to interpret the look on her face, she walked over and stood close to me, her face only a few inches from mine.

"Thanks for dinner." She said in a quiet voice. She then raised on her toes to kiss me quickly on the mouth in a friendly and casual way.

I was again on the retreat, caught off guard by the ease in which this girl was able to act, speak, and keep me guessing.

"You're welcome, "I finally responded. "Want anything for desert? " I playfully asked as I moved towards the freezer. I opened the door and looked at the box of ice-cream bars I had, but found little else. Cami walked up behind me and peaked over my bent shoulder.

"No, I think I will pass" she said.

I closed the freezer door but Cami didn't move backwards after her inspection of the ice-cream. Instead she kept me crowded in the small space bordered by a wall, a fridge, and herself. I couldn't even turn around to face her unless she moved, so I paused for a second to wait for her to back up. She didn't. Instead I felt her press a little closer, her body now slightly pressed against my back, as she leaned close to my ear.

"I would like to stay the night" she whispered.

Her hand was immediately on the back of my neck, fingers playing with my hair. I caught my breath and turned around slowly to see her biting her lower lip playfully, but still smiling. Her current expression was the first time I had noticed a crack in her assured demeanor, and it made me immediately aware that this was not her typical mode of action. She was going out on a limb, acting on an impulse, and taking a leap into my arms, literally. All this swirled in my head and acted to intoxicate me even further. It is a wonderful feeling to feel wanted... desired.

I took her hand and led her to my bedroom. I looked back over my shoulder to see her trailing behind me, blushing... smiling... almost giggling. Again, memories of teenage romance flashed through my head. Once inside my bedroom I turned around to face Cami, and kissed her gently. Everything was building to an extreme level of sexual tension, and Cami sensed it as much as I, thus the reason I assume she laughed and pushed me backwards onto the bed. I feigned an angry shout, but then reached up to grab her waste and pull her next to me. She laughed again and then settled at my side. Her nipples were erect and pushing against the cotton blouse she was wearing, and her skirt was bunched up higher on her thighs. Cute and confident was giving way to erotic and alluring.